#matarazzo

If you’d asked anyone at Hawkins High to describe me, they would’ve said cheerleader. Probably popular. Maybe untouchable.

What they wouldn’t have said is nervous, or hopeful, or terrified that the one boy I actually liked thought I was laughing at him.

I’d been standing in front of my mirror for twenty minutes, fluffing my hair, smoothing the skirt of my dress, then tugging it down again like it might somehow betray me. I didn’t usually overthink dates not the ones people expected me to go on. But this one felt different in a way that made my chest tight.

Because I’d asked him.

Dustin Henderson.

I could still remember the way his eyes had widened behind his cap when I’d stopped him in the hallway, the way he’d blinked like he thought he’d misheard me.

“Do you… want to go to the movies with me? On Friday?”

He’d gone red. Properly red. And then he’d smiled really wide and crooked and genuine.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

People had stared. Whispered. Tina Jenkins had actually laughed.

I ignored all of it.

Because for once, I wasn’t doing what was expected of me.

Friday night arrived far too quickly.

I told myself he might be running late. That his mum had kept him back. That he’d forgotten the time.

But ten minutes turned into twenty.

The cinema lights flickered on and off outside, couples laughing, queues forming, popcorn spilling. I stood near the poster for Back to the Future, clutching my jacket tighter around me, my stomach sinking further with every passing second.

At thirty minutes, it became impossible to pretend.

He wasn’t coming.

By the time I turned away, my eyes burned. I walked the long way home so no one would see me cry, heels clicking too loudly against the pavement, humiliation wrapping around me like a second skin.

I didn’t cry because I’d been stood up.

I cried because I’d let myself believe he might choose me, too.

By Monday morning, Hawkins High felt unbearable.

The whispers were quieter now.

“Told you there was something weird about that.”

“Probably a joke.”

“Maybe she wanted to make him look stupid.”

Every word landed like a bruise.

Dustin wouldn’t look at me. He kept his head down, shoulders hunched, laughing too loudly with Mike and Lucas like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t left me standing alone under flickering cinema lights.

That hurt more than anything.

Lucas was the only one who seemed… normal.

Since he’d joined the basketball team, we’d ended up talking more. Passing comments about teachers and homework. He was easy to talk to. Honest.

So when he slid into the seat opposite me in the cafeteria I didn’t plan on saying anything.

But the words spilled out anyway.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Lucas frowned. “What?”

“Dustin. He...” My voice cracked. I swallowed. “He didn’t show up.”

Lucas went still.

“He stood you up?”

I nodded, staring down at my tray. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I just... I thought maybe he’d said something to you.”

Lucas exhaled slowly. “No. He didn’t. But… I think I know why.”

I looked up.

“Eddie Munson’s been in his ear,” Lucas said carefully. “Telling him it was a bad idea. That there had to be some catch.”

My chest tightened. “A catch?”

“Eddie thinks you were messing with him,” Lucas admitted quietly. “That no one like you would ask him out unless it was a joke.”

That did it.

Tears blurred my vision again, and I hated myself for it. “Why would I do that?”

“I know,” Lucas said quickly. “I tried to tell him. But I guess Eddie got to him. Eddie told him getting his hopes up would just hurt more.”

I laughed once, broken and humourless. “Congratulations. It worked.”

Lucas looked genuinely guilty. “He’s an idiot. But… he’s a good one.”

I wiped my eyes. “I don’t want pity. I just want him to know I meant it.”

Lucas nodded slowly. “I’ll talk to him.”

Dustin didn’t talk to me for days.

I stopped sitting with the cheer squad. People noticed. They always did.

By Friday, I’d decided that was it. I wasn’t chasing him. I’d been brave once. That was enough.

And then someone knocked on my bedroom window.

I nearly screamed.

Dustin stood outside, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, cap clutched nervously in one hand. He looked like he might bolt at any second.

I yanked the window open. “What are you doing?”

“I... um. Hi.”

My heart did something stupid.

“You stood me up,” I said bluntly.

“I know,” he whispered. “I’m really, really sorry.”

I crossed my arms, trying not to shake. “Why?”

He swallowed. “Because I thought you were going to laugh at me.”

The words landed softly, devastating in their honesty.

“Everyone said there had to be a reason,” he continued. “Eddie said… people like you don’t just ask people like me out.”

I leaned against the frame, anger and sadness tangling in my chest. “Did you ever consider asking me why?”

“No,” he admitted. “Because I was scared.”

Silence stretched between us.

“I liked you,” I said quietly. “I still do. You make me laugh. You’re kind. You talk about space like it’s magic. I didn’t care what anyone thought.”

His eyes filled.

“I ruined it,” he said.

“You hurt me,” I corrected. Then softer, “But you came here.”

He nodded. “Lucas yelled at me. A lot.”

I huffed despite myself.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Dustin said quickly. “I just needed you to know that it wasn’t a joke. You weren’t a joke.”

I studied him the nervous hands, the hopeful eyes, the boy who’d believed the worst because it was easier than believing someone wanted him.

“I don’t want to be your secret,” I said. “And I don’t want you deciding I’ll hurt you before I get the chance not to.”

“I won’t,” he said immediately. “I promise.”

I sighed, then stepped aside. “Come in. You’re going to freeze.”

His face lit up.

We sat on my bed, knees touching, the air buzzing between us.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks,” Dustin said again. “I just… want to try. If you still do.”

I smiled, small but real. “I do.”

He laughed, breathless and disbelieving, and when he leaned in, it wasn’t perfect or smooth he knocked his nose against mine but it was gentle and warm.

When he pulled back, grinning, I rested my forehead against his.

“For the record,” I murmured, “next time, you’re not standing me up.”

“There’s going to be a next time?” he asked, eyes shining.

I kissed him again.

“Oh, absolutely.”

Walking into Hawkins High holding Dustin Henderson’s hand was… exhilarating.

Not because I needed to prove anything but because his fingers were warm and a little clammy, and every so often he’d glance at me like he still couldn’t quite believe I was real.

The looks started immediately.

Whispers. Double takes. One girl actually walked into a locker.

Dustin squeezed my hand like he might let go if he didn’t remind himself he was allowed to hold it.

“You okay?” I murmured.

He nodded. “Yeah. Just… wow.”

I smiled. “Get used to it.”

We’d barely made it halfway down the corridor when Eddie Munson froze in front of us, mid-rant about something metal-related to Gareth. His eyes dropped to our hands.

Then widened.

Then nearly popped out of his skull.

“What. The hell,” Eddie said slowly.

Dustin stopped walking. I didn’t.

I tugged him forward just enough that Eddie had no choice but to acknowledge what was happening. Dustin straightened beside me, shoulders still tense but chin lifted.

“Hey, Eddie,” Dustin said. His voice wobbled slightly. “This is… Y/N. My girlfriend.”

Eddie stared at him. Then at me. Then back at our joined hands like they might bite him.

“Your...” He choked. “Your what?”

I tilted my head sweetly. “Girlfriend.”

Eddie spluttered. “No offence, Henderson, but there’s no way”

I cut him off, smile sharpening.

“Just because you couldn’t get me,” I said lightly, “doesn’t mean Dustin couldn’t.”

The hallway went silent.

Gareth made a noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh.

Eddie’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “I... that’s not...”

Dustin squeezed my hand harder.

Eddie stared at him, then sighed dramatically. “Wow. Okay. Guess I owe you an apology, man.”

Dustin blinked. “Yeah. You kinda do.”

Eddie looked at me, genuinely sheepish now. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

“I was,” I replied. “Next time, maybe don’t decide what someone’s worth for them.”

Eddie grinned, crooked and resigned. “Fair enough.”

We walked away together, Dustin’s steps a little lighter, his grip confident now.

“Was that too mean?” he asked quietly.

I glanced at him, then leaned in and kissed his cheek in the middle of the corridor.