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She's a Runner Part Four*

summary Things are good. Or at least, they're trying to be. Between school days, long drives, teasing, and stolen moments, you and Billy are beginning to settle into something real. But growing closer means learning each other too—and not every lesson comes easily. As insecurities, assumptions, and old fears rise to the surface, the two of you are forced to confront what it truly means to trust someone. Somehow, you emerge stronger for it. And just in time for Valentine's Day. Because when things are really good... life has a funny way of testing them.

warnings references to past sexual assault, past trauma/abuse, cursing, trauma response behavior, negative thoughts/self-talk, angst

word count 5844

note Hi everyone! This is a 2026 rewrite of Part Three/Four to my Billy Hargrove fanfiction series, She's a Runner. This rewrite contains the remainder of the original Part 4 that was not written in the Part 3 rewrite. There is also new content, and the chapter has been expanded. The original Parts 3 & 4 will remain posted. New rewrite titles will always have an * to tell the difference.

Inspired by Billy Squier’s She’s A Runner

This is an updated rewrite* As always, any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Things were good. Or at least they were trying to be.

Ever since your little ‘fight’ in the parking lot with Billy a few weeks ago, things had settled back out between you. Nearly every morning now when you arrived at school you could count on Billy being there. In the Camaro. If you got there sooner, you’d wait. Snuggled up in your scarf and puffer jacket until a tap, tap, tap came to your window. Other mornings you’d find Billy smoking. Leaning against the trunk of the Camaro. Acting put-out that you’d made him wait in the cold. “Jee-zus.” he’d complain. “Take any longer and I’d’ve died.” “What?” you’d tease, stepping between him and the wind. “Your thumbs broken or somethin’?” You zipped his coat up for him. Billy looked down. Then at you. Smirking. “Y’know…” he began. You looked at him unimpressed. Lips pursed. Something was coming. Something, stupid. “What?” you asked. “That’s wife stuff.” You shoved him. “Ugh.” You started off for the school. “Shut up.” Billy laughed. Falling into step beside you. An arm wrapping around your shoulders. You both walked into school together.

Today, however, you were the one waiting. The Hawkins High parking lot was still mostly empty. Frost dusted the asphalt. You sat in your Datsun with the heater running. Absent-mindedly humming along to the radio. No Camaro. You frowned. Not yet. You waited. Where was he? You looked at the radio clock. Traffic? Overslept? Is Max still alive? Before you could think up anything else —

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You startled. Billy was outside your window. Not smiling. Not smirking. His expression was one of profound betrayal. You rolled down the window. “What?” “Jesus Christ.” Billy breathed dramatically. He tapped the watch on his wrist. “Do y’know what time it is?” You blinked at him. “Seven-thirty?” “Seven-thirty. Four.” he corrected. You placed a hand to your cheek. Mock shock. “Oh no.” You raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who’s late.” Billy snorted. “I’ve been here the whole time.” He motioned to the parking lot. “You’re blind.” You sighed. “It’s only four minutes.” Billy pulled his shoulders in. “Coulda froze.” He play-acted. You glanced out at the parking lot. “You have a car.” He dug his hands into his pockets. “Mm.” he grumbled. “You have a jacket.” He pushed his hands in deeper. The pocket lining poking out beneath his coat. “Mm.” he simply replied. You exhaled. “You have cigarettes…” Closing his eyes, he raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Not hearin’ a whole lotta sympathy.” “This is a you problem.” Billy frowned. You smiled knowingly. “You’re alive.” “Barely.” he scoffed. You snorted. “Drama queen.” Billy grinned.

He looked over your shoulder. “What’re we listening to?” “We?” Billy nodded. “Nothing.” you replied. “That ain’t nothin’.” Billy leaned in through the open window. Far too close. Head nearly in your lap. His jacket brushing your nose. “Billy!” “What?” He was unbothered. “Move!” He looked bored. “No.” “Move.” You shoved him. The car horn went off. “Billy.” He ignored you. Fingers fiddling with the radio dials. “AM?” He looked over his shoulder at you. “Really?” He turned a knob. “Who the hell listens to AM?” You threw your head back against the headrest. You exhaled. You weakly shoved him. The horn went off again. Students exiting their cars were looking. Billy tuned the radio. A wide smile. He cranked up the volume. “Now, this?” He pointed at the radio. “Much better.” You rolled your eyes. “Will you get out of my car?” Billy scooted back, but not by much. “No.” “No?” “No.” He waved a hand at you. “Move over.” You scoffed. “Billy.” “Move over.” “It’s my car!” Backing out, Billy rested his chin in his hand. Elbow propped on the window well. A small smile. “You’re really gonna let me die out here?” You looked annoyed. “Yup.” He straightened up. “Unbelievable.” Your brow furrowed. “Absolutely unbelievable.” You popped the lock. “Fine.” You scooted in. Billy climbed into the driver’s seat. “Jesus.” “What now?” Billy’s knees were nearly touching his chest. “People this small shouldn’t be allowed to drive.” You smacked him. He tilted his head back, laughing. You smiled despite yourself. Billy readjusted the seat. Stretching out comfortably. One hand on the steering wheel. He looked too comfortable. He rolled his head onto his shoulder. Looking at you. A sharp smile. “Miss me?” You closed your eyes and looked away. “Nuh-uh.” Billy frowned. “Don’t I at least get a ‘g’morning’?” You peeked one eye open. “Mornin’.” He chuffed. Silence. “Billy.” “Hm?” “Unless you’re planning to buy —” The morning bell rang. “Get out of my car.” He smirked. Tongue peeking out. Not leaving. Positively delighted with himself.

You gave his shoulder a hard shove. “Out!” He looked wounded. “Ow.” You rolled your eyes. You opened the passenger door and climbed out. Ducking your head, you looked back into the car. Billy blinked at you casually. “My keys.” you stated. Hand outstretched. Billy looked at you. And then the keys. And then you. “Don’t.” He was offended. “Rude.” Turning off the car, he dropped the keys into your hand. “Killjoy.”

Billy unfolded himself from the driver’s seat. “Some thanks.” He sighed. “I risked my life out here.” You were already walking ahead of him. “For you!” He shouted. You threw your head back and looked at the sky. “Stoooooop.” You groaned.

Entering the school, he still swiped your textbooks. A book in your hands. One you were reaching into the locker for. Gone. Once. To prove a point. You walked off and let him have your textbook. Billy blinked. “... Firecracker?” You continued down the hall. Billy looked at your textbook. Then back at you. He frowned. “Don’t you need this?” He called after you. No response. Billy hustled after you. “Hey!” “Where’re you goin’?” You didn’t react. “Class.” “But I’ve got your book.” You turned the corner. “You do.” His brow furrowed. “Don’t you want it?” You waved a dismissive hand and walked into the classroom. Billy stopped at the threshold. He looked at the textbook. Then at you. Then back to the book. He looked inconvenienced. “What the hell’m I supposed to do with this all day?” Leaning into the classroom. Billy waved his arm. Textbook in hand. You ignored him. “Rude.” he huffed. The warning bell sounded. Point one for you.

Unfortunately for you. Billy adapted. But now? Now it was less about the books and more about opportunity. The moment you turned around to protest — You’d be trapped. Billy leaning against the lockers. One hand flat above your head. The textbook dangling tauntingly in his other hand. A smug smile on his face. “Billy.” You groaned. He tilted his head. “What?” “Give it back.” You looked up at the book. He wanted you to jump for it. “Billy.” He lowered it slightly. Enticing you. “Say please.” You scrunched your nose. “Bite me!” He laughed. A wide grin. Tongue peeking out between his teeth. “Tempting.” he flirted, leaning in. You huffed. Putting your palm to his face. You shoved him. “Fresh.”

And somewhere along the line, you’d stopped worming your way out of his grasp nearly as quickly as you used to. Not that Billy didn’t abuse the privilege. But every now and again he’d get a thick smack to the chest. Trying to duck his head to your neck. “Ow!” “Behave!” “Why?” You groaned. He’d grin. Completely unrepentant. There weren’t nearly enough turtlenecks in your closet to protect you from the calling cards Billy’s lips desperately wanted to leave on you. And he looked so pleased with himself whenever he caught sight of one.

In Mr. Dawson’s history class, Billy eventually had to be moved. Two full rows over and away from you. He kept turning around in his seat to look at you rather than pay attention. Sometimes he’d toss small paper balls at you. Launching them like a half-court shot. Smacking you in the forehead. He grinned childishly as you looked up in defeat. Rolling your eyes, you returned to your work. “Pssst.” Billy would smirk and motion for you to unfold the paper wad. Which you quickly regretted. Often, they contained immensely lewd messages. Or whatever happened to be on his mind. If he could make you blush and lock eyes with him in the same sequence? Point one for Billy. The score: One - one.

You started eating lunch together. If the weather was good, you sat out on the football bleachers. Billy enjoying a smoke. You trying to read through your notes for the next period’s pop quiz. Occasionally, you split your sandwich with him. At first, anyways. Before long, Billy simply decided that su lunch es mi lunch. You’d look down and a giant bite would be missing from your pizza. One time, you were focused on your notes. A chip held between your lips. “Hey!” Billy swooped in and took it right from you. Like a bird stealing another bird’s worm. He sucked the chip into his mouth. Crunch. A smile. “That was mine!” “You weren’t eating it.” He chewed. “I was gonna —!” He smirked. “K.” He puckered his lips and grabbed you. “Have it back.” You shrieked. “EW!” Shoving at him. “NO!” He stopped short. Swallowing. Laughing.

If the weather wasn’t so good, you’d manage to convince Billy to follow you to the library. At first, you thought this was a very safe and smart option.

Quiet.

Warm.

Homework.

Responsible.

You couldn’t have been more wrong if your life depended on it. Billy’s favorite game quickly became breaking your concentration. And dragging you into trouble with him. He thought it was adorable the way you held your index finger against your lips as you read. Scribbling furiously with your pencil. So focused that the world around you ceased to exist.

Unfortunately, Billy Hargrove considered this a challenge.

“Pssst.” He spun your notebook upside down. You righted it and ignored him. “Firecracker.” You ignored him. “Hey!” You whispered harshly. “Billy.” He stole your pencil. “Give it.” He smirked, spinning it in his fingers. “Billy.” He looked at the ceiling. “Billy.” you chastised him. Smiling, he closed one eye and aimed. Drawing his arm back.

One.

Two.

Three.

Fling.

The pencil lodged in the ceiling tile. Billy looked at you triumphantly. Your nose twitched. Leaning over, you dug another pencil out of your backpack. And went back to writing. His hand inched closer. You froze. Eyes narrowing. A hushed chuckle. “Stop it.” He pouted, rocking back on his chair legs. “Boring.” “Do your homework.” “No.” “Billy…” “You can do it.” He thought he was clever. “C’mon, you’re doing it right now.” “No.” He leaned in. “What if I smile?” You continued writing. “Pay me and I’ll think about it.” He paused. The chair legs hit the floor. “Can’t.” He frowned. “Broke.” “Too bad, so sad.” You concluded. Billy looked offended.

What was even cuter was the look of shock and abashment that overwhelmed your features when he so much as slid a finger beneath your sweater. Touching bare skin. It was hilarious. How positively prudish you were in public. You looked like a deer in headlights. Mortified. Face on fire.

The one time he got too clever? He managed to slide his entire palm up the back of your blouse. You yelped. The sound of shifting chairs. Every head in the library turned. You clapped a hand over your mouth. Embarrassing. Billy was laughing. Now he’d done it. The librarian stood in front of your table. Arms crossed. Peering down her nose at you both. You froze. Billy froze. The librarian cleared her throat. “Ahem.” Billy gave a charming smile and a little wave. “Hi.” You wanted to die. Ten minutes later, the pair of you were marched out of the library. Banned. The arrogant and thoroughly pleased look on Billy’s face as you slumped out the doors.

“Guess we’ll have to find somewhere else.” he tutted, snaking an arm around your waist. You narrowed your eyes. “I oughta slap you.” “Mm.” he hummed. Smug. You poked a sharp finger into his chest. “This is your fault.” “Sticks n’stones.” he mused. “Not funny.” Billy grinned wide. “Is.” “Is not.” “Is.” You groaned. “C’mon, Firecracker.” Chuckling, he dragged you down the hall with him.

In chemistry, you were sitting next to each other again. Which was both a blessing and a curse. Billy was entirely too pleased with himself the couple of times you balanced the equation wrong. “Mm-mm.” He clicked his tongue. “Wrong.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “No it’s not.” He nodded sagely. “Is.” “Wrong.” You frowned down at your paper. Billy leaned over. “There.” He tapped the coefficient with his pencil. “It’s three.” You paused. You blinked, several times. You could feel that stupid smile widening. You erased the error, sighing. “I hate you.” “No y’don’t.” He crossed his arms.

Unfortunately for Billy, his victories were few and far between. Because the one time he wrote Ca for carbon instead of C? You stared. At him. Then the paper. “That’s wrong.” “What?” He raised an eyebrow. You pointed a finger. “That says calcium.” You tapped the paper. Billy frowned. “Says carbon.” You pointed to the periodic table poster on the wall. “Carbon is ‘c’.” He squinted at the poster. His expression slowly changing. “Shit.” You laughed. “Hey!” He swiped your lab worksheet, hiding it under his own. Crossing his arms, Billy laid across the papers. “Give it!” He looked at you. Hurt. “Laughed at me.” You raised an eyebrow. “So?” You shrugged. “You deserved it.” Billy smiled. “Fair.” He laid his head on his arms. Preparing for a nap.

Most days, the two of you managed to finish the labwork before everyone else. Mostly because Billy copied down your answers and provided moral support. Which, according to him, was equal to pulling his weight.

Unfortunately.

Hawkins High had opinions.

People were talking.

Billy had only ever caught flak for being Billy Hargrove.

But now?

Apparently he wasn’t Billy Hargrove enough.

Talking briefly before basketball practice, you met with Billy. Soft smiles. Light laughs. You gave him a kiss and waved before parting. Billy walked into the gym. Some of the team was already there. Looking at him. He frowned. “What?” Andy let out a low whistle. “Dude.” He grinned. “You are whipped.” The group laughed. Billy snorted. “Jealous?” “Sweater girl?” Monty barked out a laugh. “Seriously?” “She’s a nobody.” “Dude.” Andy shook his head. “You can do so much better.” The others nodded. Billy scoffed. “Oh yeah?” “Yeah.” Chance bounced the basketball. “I mean, c’mon.”

“Half the school only knows her name ‘cause they need help with homework.” Bryce smirked. “And now Hargrove’s walkin’ her to class.” Snickers. “She ever smile?” Monty laughed. “I thought she hated everybody.” Bryce grinned. “Thought she was gonna stab me when I asked about Montagne’s test last week.” More laughter. “She’s always mad.” “She’s not mad.” Billy answered automatically. Silence. All eyes turned. “Ohhhhh!” “Listen to him.” “Defending her.”

WHIP-CRACK

“Whipped.” Billy rolled his eyes. “Eat me.” “Seriously, man.” Chance spun the basketball on one finger. “You know what people say about her?” Billy shrugged. “People say a lotta shit.” “Yeah, well.” Bryce smirked. “People say a lotta shit about you too.” The group laughed. “Everybody knows why you’re hanging around.” Andy grinned. “Ain’t no shame in it.” “Yeah.” “Seriously.”

Bryce shrugged. “She’s pretty.” Chance snorted. “But dating?” The whole group laughed. Monty pointed. “He’s serious.” “Look at him.” “Dude’s got heart eyes.” “Shut up.” Chance passed the basketball to Bryce. “No, seriously.” “You know how this works.” Billy frowned. “Enlighten me.” More laughter. “C’mon.” Bryce shot the basketball to Monty. He spread his hands wide. “You got cheerleaders.” “Rich kids.” “Band geeks.” “Freaks.” “Nerds.” “And then…” He pointed at Billy. “You got Hargrove.” “King of Hawkins.” The group laughed. “And now?” Chance motioned toward the hall. “Now Hargrove’s carrying books for sweater girl.”

“Oh shit.” “What’s next?” “Tommy dating the chess club?” “Monty joins debate?” “Harrington is valedictorian?” The whole gym erupted with laughter. Andy wiped his eyes. “Seriously, man.” “You start changing the rules…” Bryce pointed around the room. “Everybody’s screwed.” More laughter. “Dude.” “What happens when she dumps you?” Billy scoffed. “Why the hell would she do that?” Silence. Then — “Oh-hoooo.” “Listen to him!” “He’s serious!” “Guys!” “Oh shit, Hargrove!” “He’s serious!” “Heart eyes!” “Whipped!”

WHIP-CRACK

Thunderous laughter. Billy opened his mouth. Stopped. For some reason, the sound of them laughing bothered him. Not much. Just enough. Enough to notice. Enough to wonder why. He quickly smirked. “Eat me.” Another round of laughter. The moment passed. Or at least Billy thought it had.

Practice was over. Andy gave Billy a firm slap on the back. “Good game Hargrove.” Billy snorted. “Yeah, yeah.” Entering the locker room, Billy dropped onto the bench in front of his locker. The team was loud. Five different conversations bouncing off the same concrete walls. Laughter. Arguments. The screech of locker doors. Someone arguing over music. Someone else complaining about Coach. The sounds all blurred together. Billy sat there.

Towel draped around his shoulders. Elbows on his knees. Staring at the floor.

Whipped.

He frowned.

Heart eyes.

Billy rolled his jaw.

Idiots.

“He’s serious.” His fingers drummed against his thigh. “What happens when she dumps you?” He scoffed under his breath. “Morons.” Standing, he tossed the towel to the bench. Yanking his jersey over his head. Steam quickly filling the showers. Hot water ran down his back. And despite himself— He could still hear them laughing. “Whipped!” Billy scrubbed shampoo through his hair. “Eat me.” He muttered to nobody. Rinsing off, he sighed. Jesus Christ. They were idiots. The whole damn lot of them. … So why’d it bother him?

And then—

Twenty minutes later, Billy emerged from the gym. Hair still damp. Letterman jacket on. Duffel bag over one shoulder. And there you were. Waiting. Immediately, his face softened. His stride quickened. Without so much as a greeting, an arm wrapped around your shoulders. Pulling you into his side. He pressed a kiss to your temple. And then— nothing. A pause. Billy just stood there. Breathing. The familiar scent of your shampoo. The soft wool of your scarf. You blinked. “... Billy?” His eyes were closed. “Hm?” You tilted your head to his touch. “You okay?” He frowned. Eyes opening. “Yeah.” Another pause. “Why?” You looked up at him. “You act like I just came back from war.” You smiled. “We literally saw each other an hour ago.” Billy smirked. “So?” He kissed your temple again. “... You’re being weird.” He grinned. “Takes one t’know one.”

Billy took you for a drive. No destination. No plans. Just a drive. Which, for Billy, was reason enough. The radio hummed quietly. Sunlight flickering through the trees. One hand draped lazily over the steering wheel. The other resting on the center console. You watched the scenery pass by.

Movement caught your eye.

Billy’s hand.

Searching.

Not looking away from the road. Not saying anything. Just reaching. His fingers slipped between yours. Intertwining. Naturally. Like they’d done it a hundred times. His thumb brushed against your knuckles. And stayed there. You paused. Looking down. Then over at him. Billy was still watching the road. Relaxed. Completely oblivious. “...” A small smile tugged at your lips. Looking back at your joined hands, you squeezed gently. Billy squeezed back. Never taking his eyes off the road. “Y’alright?” You smiled. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Good.” And kept driving.

The next day, students lingered in the halls after lunch. Waiting outside classrooms. Talking. Shouting. Lockers slamming. You were leaning against your locker, talking with Natalie about something annoying Billy had done when he appeared. No warning. No greeting. Just arms around your waist from behind. You squeaked. “Billy!” A laugh rumbled behind you. “Miss me?” “Speak of the devil.” Natalie stated. You rolled your eyes. “We just had lunch together.” “So?” He grinned. “So.” Natalie smirked. “I’m gonna leave you two weirdos alone.” “Oh, don’t—” Throwing out an arm in protest after her. Too late. She was already gone. “Traitor.” You muttered. Billy only grinned. “You complain a lot.” “And yet.” You looked over your shoulder at him. “Here you are.” He chuckled. “Against my better judgment.” His smile softened. Eyes lingering on yours. Without warning, he pulled you in closer. Hooking a finger under your chin, he tilted your head toward him. “What’re you—” He kissed you. Arms still around you. Holding you close. Present. Warm. In a split second for you— A jolt. Something uncomfortable. Something too fast. Too much. And just as quickly as it came— It was gone. Billy pulled away. Blinking. You stared at him. “...” His grin widened. “What?” Nothing. You were still blinking. Still trying to figure out why your heart skipped a beat. Billy barked out a laugh. “Jesus, baby.” He smirked. “I know I’m handsome but damn.” He moved around you in a lazy half-circle. Trying to catch your eye. “What?” Nothing. You looked at him. And Billy smiled. Soft. Pleased. Thinking he’d figured it out.

“Aw.” He chuckled. “Kissed you stupid.” And before you could say a word— Another quick kiss. Short. Easy. Billy smiling against your lips. Completely unaware. You blinked again. And Billy just laughed. “There she is.” As if you’d merely gotten distracted.

At the end of the day, you were leaning against your locker. Reading. Students were milling about. Locker doors opening and closing. When suddenly— A shadow. Billy. With one arm above your head, and his other hand resting on your waist. He leaned down. Smiling. No words. Just— A kiss. You tensed. Blinking. Blank. Gone. Billy pulled away, smiling. He was expecting eye rolls. Flustered indignation. But. You just stood there. Blinking. “...” Nothing. Billy laughed. “There it is.” “...” “Jesus.” He bit his lower lip. “I keep doin’ that.” You blinked up at him. “What?” “Kissin’ you stupid.” You stared. Billy looked positively pleased with himself. Like he’d discovered something wonderful. Something adorable. He liked the look. Liked making you blush. Liked seeing you flustered. And lately— He chased it.

Because every time he saw that dazed expression, something inside of him relaxed. Like a weight lifted from his shoulders. Greedy for reassurance without realizing it. Billy smiled softly. “Cute.” And because he thought he’d embarrassed you— Because he thought you’d simply gotten shy— He kissed you again. Short. Sweet. The same reaction. “...” Blinking.

Billy laughed softly. You looked at him. “There she is.” As if he’d brought you back to Earth. When in truth— You weren’t back. You’d never really left. But. You’d gone somewhere he couldn’t follow. And Billy mistook your silence as comfort.

A couple days later, the warning bell had already rung. Students poured into the halls. Books. Backpacks. Lockers. Teachers. Everybody trying to make it to class before the final bell. Billy had been saying something. You weren’t really listening. Going through a mental checklist of all your assignments due today.

Something caught Billy’s eye. “Shit.” Suddenly— His hand wrapped around your wrist. “C’mon.” No thought. No hesitation. No warning. Just Billy. Taking two long strides ahead. You stumbled after him. Heart skipping. Caught off guard. By the time your brain caught up— Billy had already reached the end of the hall. And you stopped. Digging your heels into the floor. Resistance. Billy turned immediately. Frowning. “What?” You blinked. Looking down. At his hand. Then back at him. “...” “What?” His voice softened. “(F/N)?” You frowned. “I dunno.” Billy looked genuinely confused. “What?” “I dunno.” you repeated. Because you didn’t. Not really. You only knew that something about it had made your stomach twist. And you hated that.

Why did it feel strange?

Billy followed your eyes. Realizing that he still had hold of your wrist. “Oh.” Immediately, he let go. “Sorry.” Simple. Easy. No argument. Just confusion.

Billy held out his hand. Not your wrist. His hand. Palm open. His expression softening. “Yeh?” You looked at it. Then at him. After a second. You placed your hand in his. Billy smiled. “There she is.” And the two of you continued down the hall.

Another afternoon found the two of you sitting together on the picnic tables. It was one of the first peeks of the coming Spring. Billy sprawled beside you. You were trying very hard to study. Billy trying very hard to prevent that from happening. Which, according to him, was quality time. One moment he was talking. The next—

His hand slipped beneath the hem of your sweater. Resting against your waist. Thumb stroking absentmindedly over bare skin. You paused. “...Billy.” “Hm?” Without looking up, you quietly removed his hand. Billy blinked. “Oh.” Two minutes later—

His hand returned.

Warm.

Familiar.

Comfortable.

To him.

You stopped. “...Billy.” “Hm?” His eyes still fixed on the story he was telling. You moved his hand away again. Billy frowned. Not upset. Just puzzled. “Oh.” Three minutes later—

His hand was back. He simply wasn’t thinking about it.

It was instinct.

Muscle memory.

Comfort.

The same way he slung an arm around your shoulders. The same way he held your hand. The same way he leaned against you. It was just… Billy.

You stared at his hand. Then quietly gave up. Returning to your studying. Billy smiled to himself. Completely unaware. His thumb lazily stroking your side. And for reasons you couldn’t explain— Something twisted.

By the end of the week, the final bell had rung. Most students had already gone home. You stood near the front entrance with a few classmates. Talking over a group project. Billy, leaning against the wall nearby, was already waiting.

Patiently.

… For about thirty seconds.

Then impatiently.

Then dramatically.

Waiting.

You ignored him. Which only made him sigh louder. Billy wandered over.

Tap.

His finger poking your side. You swatted him away. “Just a minute.” Billy frowned. On whole minute later—

Tap.

Again.

“(F/N).” “Just a minute.” Another loud sigh. You glanced over. Billy pouting. You smiled despite yourself. And returned to the conversation. That was apparently his limit. Before you knew it—

The ground disappeared. “Bill–!” Laughter exploded around you. “Billy!” Fireman’s carry. Like a sack of potatoes. Over his shoulder. “Billy!” “What?” He laughed. You smacked his back. “I was still talking!” “Yeah, yeah.” He waved behind him. “They know.” More laughter. One of your classmates called out, “See ya Monday!” Billy raised a hand. “Have a good weekend!” And he started walking. “Billy.” “Hm?” “I meant it.” “Me too.” He hummed. You frowned. “Put me down.” Billy jostled you, getting a better hold. “Aw, c’mon.” “They got it.” “They don’t—” “They’re fine.” Another few steps. “Billy.” “Yeah, yeah.” He chuckled. “I know.” He thought you were embarrassed. Thought you were laughing along. Thought you wanted to leave. Thought you wanted him. Which to Billy, amounted to the same thing. And somewhere between the school entrance and the Camaro— You fell quiet.

The silence didn’t register. Not at first. Billy kept chatting. Talking about dinner. About Max. About the championship qualifier for basketball. Completely unaware. Until he opened the passenger door. He turned around. Still smiling. Only to find you looking at the ground. Quiet. Too quiet. Billy frowned. “Firecracker?” No answer. “(F/N)?” You blinked. Looking up. “...” And for the first time all week—

Billy didn’t see the look he’d grown used to. He didn’t see reassurance. He saw—

Something else.

Something he didn’t understand.

And suddenly—

The smile slipped from his face.

“What?”

You looked away. “...” “(F/N)?” You chewed your lip. “...” “C’mon.” Billy’s voice softened. “What?” Another pause. You glanced up at him. Briefly. “You’re touchy.” The words were so soft he almost missed them. Silence. Billy blinked. Then laughed softly. You immediately dropped your gaze. Billy’s smile faded. Squinting slightly. “Touchy?” “Not in a bad way—” you interjected. Now Billy was nervous. Restless. He shifted his weight. Hands fidgeting. Biting at the side of his finger. “... And?” You shrugged helplessly. “I—.” You exhaled. “I dunno.” Billy laughed. Almost relieved. Weak. Nervous. Bullet dodged. “Baby.” A smile. “Kinda my whole thing.” You swallowed. “I know.” He shifted his weight to the other foot. “Then, what?” You still wouldn’t look at him. “I don’t—” “Help me out here.” His voice rose. Not angry. Anxious. “What is it?” The nervousness in his voice made your chest tighten. You hugged yourself. Looking up. “I don’t know!” Billy froze. “It’s just…” You swallowed. “Too much.” You exhaled. “Sometimes.” Silence. Billy frowned. Thinking. “Picking you up?” A small nod. “Oh.” A pause. He looked away. Thinking. He scratched his head. “Other girls don’t mind it.” Confused. Trying to understand. “They like it.” You looked at him. Finally. “I’m not other girls.” Billy stilled. “I’m me…” Silence. Billy blinked. And for perhaps the first time all week—

He had absolutely no idea what to say.

He rubbed the back of his neck. Looking away. Then back at you. “...Okay.” A pause. “But…” He frowned. Confused. “Why?” You stared. “What?” “The pickin’ you up thing.” Billy shrugged helplessly. “I mean…” “I’ll stop.” Simple. Easy. Problem solved. At least, to him. You swallowed. “Not just that.” Billy blinked. “What?” Silence. You looked away. “...” “What?” He was getting restless again. You hugged yourself tighter. “Everything.” Billy laughed. He surely heard that wrong. Hit chewed his cheek. “Everything?” “...” “Everything, everything?” You looked at him. His brow furrowed. He searched your face. Trying to understand. And then—

Very slowly—

His expression changed. His eyes dropped. To your sweater. Your waist. His hands. He thought.

About the parking lot.

About the hallway.

About the wrist.

His hand beneath your sweater.

The locker.

Titling your chin.

Kissing you.

“There she is.”

“Kissed you stupid.”

His face lost color. “...” And for the first time—

Billy felt something cold settle in his stomach. Not anger. Not embarrassment. Guilt. “... Oh.” The word barely escaped him. You looked up. Billy was staring at the ground. Thinking. … Thinking. And suddenly not wanting to. “...” His voice was quiet. Small. “The kisses?” You looked to the side. “...Sometimes.” Billy shut his eyes. A pause. “... Jesus.” Heartbroken.

“... Jesus.”

Suddenly, all week looked different.

Billy swallowed. “...” “(F/N)...” He stared at the pavement. He couldn’t even look at you. His voice was small. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You blinked. “What?” “Any of it.” He sounded lost. “The hand thing.” “The kisses.” “The…” He shut his eyes. “Jesus...” “The whole week.” You frowned. “I didn’t know.” Billy looked up. “I know.” You looked at him. “I’m sorry.” Billy froze. “What?” “Sorry.” Your eyes were wet. “I didn’t know why—” “I thought…” You looked away. Billy stared. Heartbroken. “No.” You blinked. “...?” “No.” He shook his head.

“No.” His voice cracked. “Don’t do that.” “What—?” “Don’t—” He put a hand up. “Don’t say you’re sorry.” You sniffed. Blinking. “But—” “No.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Jesus Christ.” “Don’t apologize.” He sniffed. “... For this.” Your heart sank. “Billy—” He held up his hand. Stop. Silence. “(F/N).” His voice softened. “No.”

Because suddenly—

Billy wasn’t sure which hurt worse.

Thinking he’d misunderstood you.

Or realizing that you’d apologize for it.

And he wasn’t sure which scared him more.

Silence.

Finally, Billy exhaled. “So…” A weak laugh. “Don’t pick you up anymore.” You frowned. “No.” Billy blinked. “What?” “Not no.” You shook your head. “Not never.” He looked completely lost. “So then what?” You looked down. “Just…” You exhaled. “... Maybe…” The word caught in your throat. “Maybe just…” You glanced up. Uncertain. “Give me a minute?” Asked as though you weren’t quite sure yourself. Billy blinked. “A minute?” You nodded. “Just…” “Wait.” He thought about that. Truly thought. Slowly, Billy nodded. “... Okay.”

Silence.

Another sniff.

A weak laugh.

“So.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll figure it out.” You let out a soft laugh. Billy smiled. “What?” “Mushy.” He snorted. “And touchy…” You laughed. The tension eased. Just enough. You looked at him. Really looked at him. And Billy looked back. Not teasing. Not smirking. Not joking. Just Billy. You stepped closer to him. Before he could stop himself, his hand started to rise. Instinct. He caught himself. Billy froze. Eyes darting to yours. Nervous. Uncertain. Checking.

You understood. Quietly. You took Billy’s hand. Him watching. Silent. You guided it. Resting it against your waist. Billy blinked. Looking from his hand. To you. You looked up at him. “Thank you.” Billy frowned. Almost embarrassed. “For what?” You smiled softly. “For listening.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He looked away. Bashful. “Just don’t take forever.” He mumbled. You laughed. And then—

You kissed him. Billy froze for half a second. Then melted. Arms wrapping around you. Careful. Not hesitant. Not frightened. Just… Paying attention. You leaned into him. Billy smiling against your lips. Relief washing over him.

Finally.

For the first time all week—

You met him halfway.

And despite everything—

The two of you found each other.

It was February and for the first time in your life, you were actually seeing somebody as your least favorite holiday approached. Billy, so far as you could tell, was not one for romantic gestures. Persistent teasing and unashamed, unrepentant flirting seemed much more his speed. The two of you were becoming well acquainted with the Camaro. Often, you would waste time after school together in the backseat.

Billy waiting for Max. You waiting for Petey, as he no longer wanted to take the bus. Realizing that Valentine’s Day was this week, you wondered if you should say anything. Anything you did with Billy would be nice. And you didn’t care in the least if there were no chocolates. Or roses.

Friday afternoon came. The final bell rang. Billy walked out with you to the parking lot. Talking about nothing. Complaining. About Tommy. About Hawkins. About the midwest in general. Just talking.

Arriving at your Datsun, you leaned against the driver’s side door. Billy standing opposite you. Hands shoved in his pockets. You smiled. He smiled. Silence. Billy rocked back on his heels. Looking anywhere but you. “So…” He shrugged. “What’cha doin’ tomorrow?” You frowned. “Tomorrow?” He nodded. His eyes drifted over the parking lot. Casual. Disinterested. Smooth. “Yeh.” He shrugged again. A flick of his head. “Thought…” Another shrug. “Could catch a flick or somethin.” He scratched his eyebrow. The poster child of indifference. A pause. “Up t’you.” You smiled brightly. “Sure.” Billy blinked. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” You nodded happily. He nodded. “K.” “Cool.” Another pause. “Cool.” you repeated. Looking at his boots. He smiled. Failing miserably to hide it. “Pick you up ‘round six?” “Okay.” “Okay.” he repeated. Silence. Neither of you moved. Billy looked at you. You looked at him. Neither saying goodbye. Neither really wanting to.

“Tomorrow.” You smiled. “Yeh.” He smiled. Taking a step. You kissed him sweetly. Pausing to look each other in the eye as you pulled away. He rolled his lip under his teeth. “See ya.” Beaming. You watched him climb into the Camaro. The engine roaring to life. And as Billy drove away, he couldn’t stop smiling. Neither could you.

Things were really good.

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