You Remain the Luscious Fruit.

Back then he was a lowly barback, bobbing and weaving around the same group of drunks every night, clearing empties and wiping down sticky tables, attempting the Sisyphean task of keeping the bathrooms clean in exchange for his band being allowed up on their so-called stage.

Now he was acting manager and in the process of buying out the original owner so she could retire. He made a lot of changes already—not that you’d ever dared set foot in here during your tenure at Hawkins High back in the day. But you (rightfully) assumed it was your average hole in the wall, with barely any light coming through the dirt-streaked windows; all the walls papered so thoroughly with stickers and graffiti you couldn’t guess what color they were; furniture so rickety and shoddily built it fell apart if you so much as looked at it wrong.

The space was still divey, but he’d changed up some of the decor and added some light fixtures over the bar so people could actually see what they were drinking. He’d swapped out the older standing tables for black vinyl booths that lined the walls, leaving the middle open for shows.

He’d also managed to construct an honest-to-god stage in the corner with lights, and a sound system and everything. At present it was empty, but according to the fliers tacked up on the door quite a few bands were slated to play there over the next couple of weeks. His own included.

And it seemed the interior wasn’t the only thing that had been updated.

His height still afforded him the same gangly frame you remembered from high-school, but he’d filled out slightly with more muscle and a bit of softness around his formerly bony hips—which you were most definitely not checking out as he spun a bar key on his middle finger and slipped it smoothly into the back pocket of his black jeans.

You had fully been expecting just to slide onto one of the newly refurbished stools that ran along the side of the bar and drink in relative anonymity. Instead, you were stunned to find recognition in Eddie’s eyes as he turned to greet you and your name fell easily from his lips.

Like he’d been saying it for years.

“This is a surprise,” he said, leaning casually on his side of the bar.

Your mouth dropped open, but not to speak. You just blinked back at him in silent stupor.

His arms were turned out, his sleeveless tank showing off the sinewy muscles wrapped around them and the same tattoos you must have wasted hours of class time staring at. He’d cut it off at the bottom,its curled hem barely skimming the top of his handcuff belt, and your mouth watered at the thought of him reaching for something over his head to reveal a sliver of his pale stomach and the tantalizing patch of sparse hair that swirled just below his navel.

“You know me?” you asked, still blanched with confusion.

“‘Course I do.” He gave you a warm smile, deep dimples forming on either side of it. “I think I only passed Old McDonnel’s class because you let me copy your notes every morning.”

He paused and took a long moment to let his eyes wander appreciatively up and down your form. You felt your thighs press, grateful for the oak shield that hid your reaction from his view.

“Don’t you know me?” he purred.

Jesus. You thought you might slide right off the freshly re-upholstered seat under you.

“Oh– I…um,” you cleared your throat, “Yeah, of c-course I do. You’re Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

“Ding ding,” he grinned. “Remembering my name gets you a drink on the house. Whad’you like?”

He pushed off the bar and tipped his head at the rows of bottles lined up behind him, never taking his eyes off yours. They glinted like shards of onyx under the warm glow of the pendant lights.

“A rum and ginger?” you replied sheepishly, praying he didn’t think you were too lame for not going with the typical whisky. But Eddie just shot you a wink as he reached for a clean glass.

“Mm, something sweet with a little bite? Sounds about right for you.”

You’re glad to have a moment to collect yourself when he looks down to scoop some ice out of the bin, because you were not remotely prepared for this onslaught of charm. You also weren’t sure where he got the idea that there was any bite to you at all, but the implication alone makes your body buzz watching him pour out the liquor and then spray in your mixer with the soda gun.

He placed the drink down in front of you, bubbles effervescing as he set a lime on the rim and juices dribbled down its side. He then waited, expectant smile on his lips as he watched you take your first sip. Only when you had, giving an encouraging nod and a quiet thanks, did Eddie finally tear his eyes away, seemingly remembering the rest of the people in the bar existed.

In a flash, he’d done a quick check with the scant number of other patrons, closing out one’s tab and replenishing another’s drink before he returned to his spot in front of you.

“So, what brings you in?” he asked. “You moved, right? Haven’t seen you around.”

“Y-yeah, I left for school and just…stayed away,” you chuckled. “I’m here for my dad’s birthday.”

Eddie plucked a maraschino cherry from a jar he produced seemingly out of thin air and dropped it into your drink, giving you another smile as he licked sticky red juice from his thumb.

“Sounds festive,” he hummed, veins in his hand bulging as he screwed the lid back on the jar.

Fucking christ on a cracker.

Was he trying to kill you?

“Well, I guess…” you cringed inwardly at the words before they even left your mouth, “I guess it’s sort of my birthday too? They’re a couple days apart, but we always mash ‘em together.”

“Oh, shit. Way to bury the lede, sweetheart!”

Eddie leaned on the bar again, folding his arms under his chest this time so his eyeline was level with yours and he could lean a little further forward, edging his way into your space.

“It’s not a big deal,” you insisted. “I don’t really celebrate it.”

“Well, that’s no good.” He shook his head. “You’re definitely worth celebrating.”

Pure fire rose in your cheeks at his leading tone, and you felt your brain whirring trying to think of a response. Thankfully, a rumbly and disgruntled voice from the end of the bar called out for some attention and saved you from yourself. Eddie’s expression soured and his eyes rolled as he straightened up to full height.

“Wha-a-at?!” he brayed loudly, shooting you a sly wink when he caught your wide-eyed gaze.

Your panic turned out to be unfounded, the owner of the voice giving up a wry chuckle, evidently not phased in the slightest by this outburst. The older man huddled against the wall simply smirked and snarked about how he needed to ‘quit flirting long enough to serve some drinks.’

“Bah! You’re just jealous, Ray,” Eddie scoffed, flapping a hand at him that turned into a warning finger. “And I better not catch you trying to sneak her out from under me, alright? She’s mine.”

This time, it wasn’t just your cheeks that caught on fire. Your entire body was searing, engulfed by flames, tingling as if you’d been dunked in a vat of magma. And your mind was blank—devoid of any thought aside from those two words flashing like a neon sign on a loop in your head:

She’s mine. She’s mine. She’s mine.

It had to be a bit. Just an off-handed comment he threw around without giving any thought to who it was being prescribed to. Even so, you allowed yourself to bask briefly in the satisfaction.

It made something stir deep within your gut. Some slumbering giant who had lain dormant for so long you were certain it had fallen into legend. A creature you tended from a young age, only to seal it away in a cavernous tomb before it could grow too large to contain—strong enough to decimate whole villages in a single strike.

But now it was awake. And making itself known by the ache at the crux of your thighs.

“Can’t believe you weren’t going to tell me it was your birthday,” Eddie chuckled as he came back to you with a teasing smile. “You’re really racking up the free drinks tonight, huh?”

You sputtered on the sip you’d just taken of the cocktail in front of you.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—”

He held a hand up to stop you, the other reaching blindly behind him to grab a bottle of rye he used to top off Ray’s drink. “Nope, uh-uh, don’t wanna hear it,” Eddie insisted. “It’s actually illegal for me to charge for a birthday drink. Unless, of course, you wanna see me in handcuffs?”

He leaned into your space again, lowering his voice for that last part.

His brow lifted in a suggestive arch, disappearing behind his scraggly bangs, and you felt like you might rip off a hunk of your stool you were gripping the seat so tight.

Was this real life?

Was Eddie Musnon…flirting with you?

The thought alone sets off a second heartbeat between your legs, practically throbbing.

Absolutely not, you answered yourself. He is a bartender and you’re at his bar. All he’s interested in is a good tip. Don’t be that guy at the strip club who thinks a lap dance ‘means something.’

“N…no,” you answered him meekly (also lying), “wouldn’t want that.”

Eddie nodded, still smiling as he grabbed a glass and started to dry it with a towel. Conveniently, remaining in the same spot in front of you.

“So, how’s the visit so far?” he asked.

“It’s good, um…just kind of strange being back,” you hemmed, hands wringing in your lap.

Eddie pulled his lower lip back with his teeth. A look you couldn’t quite name flickered in his dark eyes and he shrugged, his chin dropping to his chest as he watched his hands dry another glass.

“Yeah, well. You took off so fast after graduation I’m surprised you didn’t break the sound barrier.”

He kept his head bent, focused on his task, but he couldn’t stop his gaze darting up to watch you through the fan of his thick lashes. You felt your breath catch when your eyes met, and promptly looked away. You took another sip of your drink, mostly sucking air through your straw while you stared at the ice, and couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking of the same thing you were…

Graduation night. The bonfire in the woods. The rows of trucks and cars parked haphazardly along the edge of the forest with their headlights shining into the treeline as the class of ‘86 reveled in the bacchanalia of their newly minted freedom.

The last high-school party any of you would ever attend.

You couldn’t say what ultimately possessed you to go. Maybe you’d been emboldened by the fact that it was most likely the last time you’d ever see any of these people again. Maybe it was just good timing that your friend from yearbook had offered you a ride seconds after you overheard some jock confirm with Eddie that he’d be there selling that night. Maybe you wanted, for once in your entire high school career, to do something a little bit reckless and decidedly un-like yourself.

Or maybe it was just the pure, unbridled hope you might run into him there.

Eddie’s lips parted to speak again, but he was cut off by a group of younger guys who had come in and immediately started asking him about drinks and where the darts were for the dartboards.

And while he dealt with them, you found yourself drifting back into the memory of that night…

Clutching the ringed hand he offered as you clumsily tried to navigate the roots that sprawled on the forest floor; making your way towards the outermost edge of the party. Still close enough to the blaze to be scantly lit, but far enough that no one would notice you with The Freak, standing behind the thick trunk of a tall, imposing oak.

You leaned back against it, the rough bark biting into your bare back and snagging slightly on the gauzy material of your sundress. You had talked yourself into buying the revealing garment by reasoning that no one would ever even see the spaghetti straps and the nakedness of your arms and shoulders and collar bones under the bulky cover of your emerald green robe.

But now, with Eddie’s gaze drinking in the sight of all your gloriously exposed skin, you were oddly pleased you hadn’t had enough time to change in between coming home from the dinner with your parents and rushing back out the door when you spotted your friend’s car pulling into the driveway.

The firelight flickered, reflecting in his eyes that were as black as the shadowy woods at his back, and you literally felt every thought in your head being obliterated. You tried to will yourself to speak but couldn’t manage so much as a squeak, having used up all your boldness to approach him at the fire and ask if he had anything to smoke. Stomach tying itself into knots with every word.

With a slow smile, Eddie pushed back the curtain of his long hair and revealed the joint he’d tucked behind his ear. He held it out in a quiet offering, but you made no move to take it from him.

“I, um…I don’t know h-how,” you admitted, heart thumping relentlessly against your ribcage.

“That’s okay,” he said before placing the joint in between his lips instead. God, his lips…

Your pulse jumped, temples throbbing so hard you could scarcely breathe while he dug around in his jacket pocket looking for a lighter. He took a couple short, shallow puffs to get it going and a cloud of its earthy smell imbued your senses, blending with the sharper scent of the bonfire.

He then pinched it in the middle and held up the smaller end to your mouth.

“Just…take it slow,” he murmured, heavy-lidded gaze transfixed somewhere on the lower half of your face. “Don’t inhale too hard.”

You nodded, even though you barely registered the words he was saying you were still so deeply distracted by his lips, and the fact that your own were now so close to his fingers. Trembling like a leaf and desperately trying not to look like you were, you touched your mouth to the paper.

Oh fuck, mother bitch, that burned—

Tears immediately sprang in your eyes and you sputtered, trying to smother the cough as it burst forth and failing. It came out in a relentless string of dry hacks, your nose stinging and your throat tightening as you whipped your head sideways to avoid spraying spittle directly in Eddie’s face.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he soothed, the tiny smile he was trying to hide coming through in his voice as he rubbed his hand across your back in a wide circle, coaxing you through your fit.

Not that you could even enjoy the sensation of his warm palm on your bare skin.

He kept it up, though, until you were able to catch your breath and stand up (somewhat) straight.

“So-sorry,” you wheezed, giving your chest a solid thwap trying to clear your throat.

“Nah,” Eddie waved off your apology, grinding the lit end of the joint into the bark of the tree before he placed it back behind his ear. “It’s really fine. Happens to the best of us. Honest.”

You felt yourself slump against the trunk in an attempt to hold yourself up. It was tough to say if the dizzy, floating feeling in your head was due to the singular hit you’d taken off that joint, or just a reaction to Eddie’s very presence. He’d stopped rubbing your back, but hadn’t yet moved away from you. Still standing close enough you were breathing in the smell of his cologne.

Slowly, his hand came up to the side of your face and he pressed the pad of his thumb to the skin just beneath your lashes, swiping away a stray tear that leaked from the corner of your eye.

In that moment, everything had seemed to slow practically to a standstill. No more breeze rustling the tree branches overhead, no more drunken teenagers stumbling into one another, no more beers sloshing out of plastic cups and splattering on the soft earth. The scope of the entire world had narrowed down to you and Eddie and the negligible number of inches between you.

“You want, uh…water? Or anything?” he asked, his thumb still idly stroking your cheekbone.

Your head shook slowly, barely conscious of the moment, your eyes never leaving his. He gazed back at you, soft and endearing, the corner of his mouth crooked up. Looking at you almost like he knew all the things you’d been thinking as you laid in your bed at night. Like he’d seen you touch your fingers to your lips in the softest, barely-there brush, imagining it was his mouth.

His shoulder shifted and you felt his other hand on your hip, gripping you purposely. Deliberately.

All at once, it was too much. The heavy pounding of your heart in your chest too rapid, turning from anticipation to terror. You felt like you were behind the wheel of a racecar whose speed had climbed too high without you noticing, teetering on the verge of spinning out of control.

Almost hearing the screech of tires, you slammed down on the brakes.

“I-I have to go.”

With the ghost of his hand’s warmth still on your cheek, you slipped out of the space in between the tree and his body. In short, uneven strides you stumbled back to the party and gripped your friend’s forearm as hard as you could when you found her, insisting ‘we need to leave.’

And seeing the wild, panicked look in your eyes, she didn’t dare argue.

You wished he kissed you that night. You thought about it for weeks afterward, reliving every step in your head, pinpointing every humiliating second.

It was a fool’s errand, honestly. From the moment you approached him, you should’ve known.

Eddie Munson had plenty of girls to kiss. Plenty of girls whose pits didn’t sweat and whose knees didn’t buckle at the thought of someone getting close to them. Who didn’t tremble with full-body shakes like a neurotic chihuahua when someone put a hand on their hip.

You and he weren’t even friends. You’d never had so much as a real conversation.

The best you could muster was a timid ‘you’re welcome’ whenever he’d returned your notes after copying them, or a small wave when your eyes unwittingly met his across the cafeteria.

He talked, sure. But he could talk to anybody. He could debate a brick wall if the occasion arose. Any time he’d spent making idle chatter with you was surely just an attempt to fritter away a couple hours of class time. And you’d hung on his every word, barely offering a pittance in return.

“Sorry about that,” Eddie grumbled.

He slid back into his place in front of you just as the door behind you smacked closed. The group of guys who came in left just as quickly, evidently unimpressed with his selection of Scotch.

Truthfully, you couldn’t say you were sad to see them go.

“You okay?” he asked, his head dipping to catch your eye. “You want water, or…”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his as he trailed off, his face clouding with some strange expression as his fingers drummed on the surface of the bar. His gaze was suddenly distant, almost as though he too was recalling the last time he’d asked you that. Impossible as that was.

“N…no,” you exhaled the sharp breath you were holding. “I’m alright.”

Eddie nodded, his head bobbing longer than was necessary as if to a song that only he could hear before he grabbed a pint glass and filled it with water anyway, setting it down in front of you.

Even without that group of guys to deal with, Eddie got annoyingly busy after that. Annoying to him, at least. He grimaced every time somebody called him away either for a refill or to order.

The bar wasn’t crowded, by any means, but there was a consistent flow of people who needed him, demanding the attention he seemed antsy to direct somewhere else.

You got down to the last of your drink, and just as you were debating whether you should commit to another, a new one had appeared in front of you, delivered with a wink and a smirk from a dark-haired blur as he moved past you on his way down to the other end of the bar.

Smiling around the straw, you snuck a glance at Eddie and found him already looking back at you while he counted out l change. Your neck twinged with the urge to turn away, embarrassed at being caught, until you remembered he was the one who’d been caught looking at you.

And he didn’t seem embarrassed at all.

The small rush petered out and Eddie came back to you, letting out an exaggerated ‘whew!’ as he dragged the back of his hand across his brow.

“That almost felt like work,” he groaned.

Maybe it was the rum going to your head, but you couldn’t help giggling at the terrible joke, a hand coming up to cover your face when a soft snort unwittingly escaped through your nose.

Your eyes met his again, twin pools of espresso just about twinkling at the sound.

The bar was much emptier now, and quieter too. It wasn’t like it had been loud before, but now its silence felt sort of daunting. The kind of silence that made you feel anxious about how to fill it.

Thankfully, Eddie was adept as ever at defeating awkward pauses.

“You know…there’s a bunch of stuff I never knew about you,” he said after a few minutes.

“Really?” you scoffed. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, lots of things,” he chuckled. “What about, like…your first kiss?”

Your fingers tensed around your glass. And you thought if you were a little stronger, it might have cracked open against your palm when every muscle in your face went still as stone.

You hated thinking about your first kiss.

Simply put, it was a mess. Brought on by a lethal mix of green apple vodka and your self-esteem at a record low. Sloppy and clumsy and too-quick. Over before you even had your bearings.

He just…attacked you. Pushed his face into yours, barely aiming. Like he was in a hurry to get it over with. Like you could’ve been anybody with a mouth and it wouldn’t make any difference.

It was a guy who was sort of friends with (and sort of wanted to fuck) your roommate. One you’d go with to parties or out to the bars. But he’d only ever engaged with you after he’d been drinking. Sober, you were lucky to get so much as a cursory greeting—assuming he got your name right.

The night it happened, you'd gone out with a big group and he’d been pestering you.

Not flirting, not as far as you could tell, just irking. Stealing sips of your drink, reaching behind you to pick up the hood of your sweatshirt and pull it up over your head, tugging on your sleeves, poking you, reaching behind his friend sitting in the middle seat of the cab to tickle your ear.

Then you got home and he started texting, asking for—no, telling—you to come over.

And to your credit, you tried to discourage it.

Begging him off with next time, some other time, another time. Because maybe if he could muster some of this enthusiasm when he was sober, you might find yourself a little more amenable to the idea. But then he hit you with the words you had no idea would still haunt you even years later:

honestly, it’s now or never.

You’d panicked. It had taken this long to find someone who was even willing to kiss you—who knew how long it would be before you could find another? Before you’d ever have another chance. So…you did it. Told him to meet you outside your dorm, and kissed him. And then he left. Because of course he didn’t just want to make out. But at least you had enough sense to shut that down.

You shook your head, mouth dry and your throat suddenly too tight for your words to get out.

“It, um…it was nothing to write home about.” you answered, staring at your lap.

Eddie, mercifully, either didn’t notice the immediate shift in your demeanor, or he simply elected to ignore it. “Okay, screw your first kiss,” he said daringly. “Tell me about your best one.”

Your fingers traced the edge of your glass, running down the ridges of the facets, freezing at his question. All ofthe air in your chest rushed out, leaving the cavity constricting as you struggled to breathe normally. The molten brown of Eddie’s eyes scanned over your expression, his features wrinkling with concern when he saw the pained look that came over your face.

“I don’t wanna do that,” you said quietly.

Something in your tone made Eddie’s gaze soften. He dropped down to his elbows, leaning in a bit closer and lowering his voice to a murmur. Something just for you to hear.

“How come?” he asked.

“Because I…” Your throat tightened in a thick, dry swallow and you had to take a swig of your drink before you could go on, “...because I’ve never really had a good one.”

The admission hangs in what little space there is between your faces. As soon as the words left your lips, you wished you could take them back. Suck them back into your lungs and rewind the whole evening until your feet carried you back out to the parking lot and over the gravel where your car was parked, back to your room at your parents house where you belonged.

“Never?” Eddie frowned.

And you can’t say if it’s the softness in his voice or the confusion in his eyes, but you keep going. Trying to shrug it off, trying not to sound so sad and pathetic. Broken and weary.

“They always kinda rushed it,” you said. “I didn’t get a chance to breathe or think, they just—”

“No drumroll,” Eddie finished for you.

His expression seemed to curdle like he’d just smelled something sour, his jaw ticking in a hard set frown. The veins in his arms stood out slightly as his grip tightened on the bar towel he’d been using to dry some glassware while you talked.

“That’s awfully disappointing,” he sighed, twirling the towel between his hands and then snapping it lightly against the edge of the bar with a soft tap. “Sometimes the lead-in is the best part.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged and swept the back of your hand across your cheek just to be sure you weren’t crying. “Clearly, I pick a lot of winners.”

Eddie chortled at that, his chest rising in a short puff. “Any of ‘em still live ‘round here?” he asked. “Gimme some names, I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Oh, no,” you shook your head rapidly, “this was in college. I never—”

You winced, cringing inwardly at what you’d been about to reveal: that you had gone most of your adolescent life without kissing anyone. That the thing most people had knocked out by the time they were pre-teens, you hadn’t managed until you were well into your twenties. And even when you did, it was always so dissatisfying. Lacking.

You let out a joyless laugh, glancing down at the drink in front of you. “I mean, nobody around here was ever interested, so—”

“Bullshit.”

“Huh?”

“I’m calling bullshit, sweetheart,” Eddie echoed himself, the sing-song words laced with a leading tone. “I know for a fact someone liked you.”

“Oh, really?” you scoffed in disbelief as you went to take another sip. “Like who?”

That devilish smile twisted up the corner of his lips again, and he tilted his head. “Me, for one.”

Your sinuses erupted with pain as you nearly shot ginger ale out of your nose. You blinked furiously and your hand shot up to cover your face.

“Yo—you what?” you sputtered, still half-choking.

“Always thought you were cute,” he shrugged. “Got a thing for smart girls.”

You felt your stomach drop, plummeting to the dingy floor underneath your feet.

Jesus. Were you really so pathetic that Eddie Munson had to dream up some imaginary crush just to make you feel better? This was a level of rock bottom you’d never imagined hitting. With a trembling hand, you reached for a napkin at the same time Eddie offered you one, your fingers meeting briefly when you took it, static crackling in the air and tingling where you’d touched.

You dabbed under your nose, still burning from the threat of fizzy ginger ale shooting through it.

“I wasn’t that smart,” you muttered, mostly to yourself. “Trust me.”

Eddie’s mouth popped open to respond, but he didn't get the chance. From the same spot he had not moved from all night, Ray’s voice cut through the low music playing over the sound system.

He said something about his chariot being on the way and having to cash out—assuming that Eddie actually wanted to get paid that night. The pair of them traded a few more friendly barbs you were starting to glean were par for the course for these two, and as Ray settles up it dawns on you.

Aside from him, you’re the only one left in the bar.

While you were distracted with Eddie, everybody else had steadily filtered out until it was down to just the three of you. And once Ray was gone, it would be just you and him. All alone.

Once he’d paid, Ray slid off of his stool and Eddie came out from behind the bar to help him over to the door. The two of them chuckled together as Eddie held it open for him and then pulled it firmly shut once they said their goodbyes.

But then, instead of returning to his side of the bar, he sidled up next to you instead.

You fought the instinct to jump when Eddie appeared at your side, the closest he’d been to you all night. His scent was even stronger, sweat and musk mingling with the aromas of bitters and liquor. It made you feel woozy, swaying on your stool like you’d taken a shot of 100-proof him.

“I need a break,” he said, nodding in the direction of the back door then tapping the pack of smokes rolled into his shirt sleeve that sat on his shoulder.

You blinked back at him mutely.

Was that your cue to get lost? If you weren’t here, would he be able to close up and go home? If he genuinely wasn’t going to charge you for your drinks, you had no tab to settle.

You could just tip him and go. Get out of his hair. God, his hair. His beautiful, beautiful hair.

“Oh…kay,” you said slowly, mentally flogging yourself for remaining in your seat when he was so clearly trying to get rid of you. But you couldn’t find the will to stand—not when you were being pinned down by his devilishly handsome smile and his penetrating, all-consuming stare.

He chuckled, letting his head fall to rest his cheek on his shoulder, his eyes shining as he smiled at you and then nodded at the back door again.

“Come keep me company, sweetheart.”

The back of the Hideout wasn’t all that different from the front.

Aside from the dumpsters and the wooden crates stacked next to them, it was nearly identical. And rather of an assortment of cars parked across the gravel lot, it was Eddie’s van pulled up next to the loading door, alongside the cinderblock structure.

A single flood light shone down on the two of you as he pushed the door open, brandishing his free arm with a flourish as though he was escorting you into a castle rather than an alley.

You giggled at the display, recalling how he used to do the exact same thing when you were leaving the one class you had in common—hanging back after the bell had rung so you and he were walking out at the same time, then scurrying ahead of you to grab the door and hold it before it closed.

Hugging yourself despite the balmy night air, your eyes darted about nervously, looking anywhere but at him, already mentally preparing an excuse for not taking a cigarette when he offered one.

Except Eddie didn’t even reach for his pack.

“So…” he said, spinning abruptly to face you, “I’ve been thinking about something.”

“Really?” you asked. “What’s that?”

“I just…” he sighed and tipped his head back, exhaling up to the sky. He brought his eyes back down and you swore tiny pieces of the moon had landed in them. “I think you deserve a good kiss.”

You stared back at him, speechless as you’d been when he recognized you the moment you came into the bar. Beneath you, your legs had started to tremble and you felt your breathing get heavier. Your shoulders tensed, thinking any minute you’d be hearing the blare of your alarm clock.

“Oh,” was all you could say.

Eddie licked his lips thoughtfully, taking a careful step closer to you. “And I,” he started with a thick swallow, “would really like to give you one.”

You felt your eyes widen, about ready to pop out of their sockets. The ‘YES’ you wanted to scream gets lodged so tight in your throat you think you might actually choke, mouth dropping open.

“Is that…okay?” he asked, tilting his head at you as he parsed your expression. It was more than okay. It sounded like a dream come true.

You took the deepest breath you could manage, chest shuddering with the effort, and nodded

“Okay,” Eddie said, letting out a breath of his own, as if he had been holding it. “Good.”

He took your hand in his and carefully brought it up to the nape of his neck. He helped you thread your fingers into his hair and encouraged you to grasp his curls firmly at the root. Your breathing hitched as his touch trailed over your knuckles and down your forearm to your elbow.

“Don’t be scared to hold on tight,” he burred low in your ear. “I like it when it hurts a little.”

Your grip tensed as his hands settled on your hips, squeezing gently as he backed you up to the brick wall. It felt gritty and cold against your back, but you couldn’t find it in you to care one bit.

Eddie’s hands squeezed again, sliding them up a little higher to your waist.

“Fuck, are you beautiful…” he murmured, his eyes flitting wherever they were able at such close proximity. The slope of your nose, the curve of your jaw, the graceful lines of your neck.

His voice was so soft, so adoring, you felt your knees liquifying. You wanted nothing more than to believe him implicitly, but you couldn't stop the little seed of doubt deep in your gut that quivered beneath the earth from peeking out through the undergrowth until it had sprouted.

“Really?” you whispered, hating how mousey you sounded. How timid and unsure.

He brought one of his hands up to cradle the side of your face. Your eyes fluttered closed, leaning in to the warmth of his palm, interrupted only by the cool bite of his rings that dissipated when they warmed to the temperature of your skin.

Still, you couldn't help but shiver when your eyes opened to find Eddie's gaze focused so intently on yours, squinting in a bemused sort of way.

“Do you honestly not know?” he asked you with a slow grin. “You really don’t see it?”

All you could do was shrug. You didn't think you were, like, hideous or anything. But you had never been particularly impressed by your looks. And no one had ever looked at you or acted like you were some ethereal being who'd fallen to earth just to grace these mere mortals with your face.

Well, at least not until now.

“Eddie, you…”

He shook his head, stopping your words on their way out of your mouth. Like somehow he’d heard the ‘don’t have to do this’ you’d been thinking.

“I know,” he whispered, close enough that his breath hit your skin in a soft puff. “I want to.”

He took a long moment, letting the edge of his thumb brush along the high points of your cheek. His gaze only grew more intense, his face inching closer as his eyes began to flutter closed. You felt your foot hovering over that imaginary brake pad, threatening to slam down on it just like it had all those years ago. But it never does.

You don’t let it.

His nose touched your face before his lips, its rounded tip pressing into the apple of your cheek before your mouth melds with his. It’s the softest, slowest, most tender kiss you ever experienced. He lets you have all the time in the world to think about it, to notice the ways his movements ebb and flow, his jaw and mouth all working together.

To feel the way his chest expands, taking the deepest breath of you he can and holding it inside his lungs like he can’t stand the idea of losing whatever part of you he just inhaled.

You have all this time to think, but your head has never been so empty. No, not empty. Quiet.

It’s as if sound itself ceases to exist. Not even your own rapid heartbeat pounding in your ears is enough to break through the pure peace of finally, finally getting to kiss Eddie Munson.

There’s no more cars whizzing past, speeding down the two-lane highway. There’s no more hum of the exhaust fan or relentless buzz of the bare bulb flickering over the back door.

There’s just…nothing.

Nothing but the feel of Eddie’s mouth tenaciously exploring yours, dragging every second out into a minute and savoring like it’s something precious—something he’s scared he’ll never get again.

He doesn’t dare pull back when your lips part with a quiet click, just stays right there with his face close to yours and his shaky breath expelling. It’s only as the world slowly leaks back into focus that you realize his fingers are trembling against your waist and his bottom lip is quivering.

“That was…wow.”

You can’t help but laugh gently at his words, dizzy with the elation that went straight to your head. His eyes flit across your face, his brows lifting in a silent request for more.

Your nod is shaky, but lacks no enthusiasm. And it’s all the permission he needs to dive back in.

He takes you faster this time, clutching you harder to pull you tighter against him. There’s a latent strength in his arms, a tension coiled in his corded muscles he’s working so hard to restrain.

Don’t, you wanted to scream at him. Don’t stop, don’t hold back, I want it all—

God, you wished you could will the words to leave your throat. They sat there, lodged firmly in your esophagus, practically cutting off air supply.

Eddie moved his hands upwards to cup your face, squishing your cheeks just a little as he cradled them tenderly in his calloused palms.

You hummed into his mouth, excited and anxious all at once, and Eddie sucks in a breath through his nose. Like he’s not gonna let something stupid like breathing get in the way of this.

You break apart just shy of your lungs bursting, the both of you panting heavily into one another’s mouths, trying to catch your breath. He blinks heavily, dazed and delirious as he asks,

“When’s your birthday?”

“Wh…huh?”

“Your birthday,” he repeated, still panting, “was it today?”

You tried to think—a Herculean effort when you could still taste Eddie’s lips on yours—and finally sifted an answer from the primordial ooze he had turned your brain into.

“N-no. It’s, uhh…” It took you a second to remember what day it even was. “It’s tomorrow.”

“Thank god,” Eddie grinned and breathed out in relief. “I want to take you out.”

“Out?” You blinked a couple times, brow pinching together. “Out…where?”

“Like for a date, out,” he couldn’t help but snicker. “Movie. Dinner. General revelry?”

Warmth exploded in the middle of your chest. “You…you’re not working?”

“Peg’ll cover for me,” he said assuredly. “If it’s for something important.”

“And I’m…” you looked back at him, hope shining in your eyes “...important?”

He smiled at you again, his gaze all peaceful and dreamy as he reached up to trace the side of your face, sweeping the tips of his fingers from your temple to the bottom of your chin.

“If you even have to ask,” he sighed and shook his head, “I didn’t do my job right.”

And then his mouth is on yours again, his hand sliding back to cup the nape of your neck, holding you in place as he kisses you deeply. It’s not, not a sweet kiss, but it’s not just sweet. There’s a little something more to it this time. Something dizzying and breath-stealing and…hot.

You feel his body press up against yours fully before he remembers himself, but the loss of heat and pressure makes you mewl pitifully into his mouth. No, don’t. Stay, you want to beg.

Your hands moved out of their own volition and grasped fistfuls of his shirt, tugging him back into you. His laugh rumbles low in his throat and you can feel him smiling into your next kiss.

A smile that doesn’t dim one bit when you part.

“Should we, um…” you heard your own giggle, the twitterpated reaction semialien to your dazed and dopamine-addled brain. “Should we go back in?”

Eddie let out a tiny noise that sounded dangerous close to a whine. “What for?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you tittered, “just to be sure you’re not being robbed blind or something?”

You glanced at the door, imagining the bar filled with big disgruntled men ransacking the liquor on the other side, descending into chaos with no one to stop them. Eddie’s teeth flashed in a grin, dark chuckle stuttering in his chest, a mischievous edge to the sound you remembered well.

Normally hearing it right before he did something particularly devious.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he exhaled, letting his forehead rest against yours, “the door’s been locked and the sign’s been off since Ray left.”