you and steve find time together whenever you can. his pool is usually occupied by the party during the day and occasionally the night but with him working at family video and you at the record store, days are often spent dealing with nagging customers instead of each other.

steve calls you while you’re at work. you know he is too, probably bored out of his mind from organizing movies.

both you and him are very grateful neither of your bosses check the phone log. either of you would without a doubt be questioned on the multitudes of calls between family video and jason lee’s music store.

“hey,” he greets. “got any plans for tonight?”

you twirl the phone cord around your finger. “i was hoping my boyfriend was available to hang out but he hasn’t asked me. so i mean i guess i’m free.”

no matter the length you and steve have been dating, the shameless flirting and honeymoon stage hasn’t seemed to waver.

“well if he hasn’t asked you then i guess it’s my time to shine,” he started. “what time do you get off?”

“six ‘clock,” you answer.

“i’ll pick you up then.” he doesn’t explain your plans but you don’t mind. being with steve is enough.

“it’s a date,” you confirm.

you faintly hear the bell chime in the background on his end.

“alright i gotta get going, new wave of customers,” steve groans. “i’ll see you soon, though. i love you!”

you blush. “i love you too.”

___

you’re out the door at 6:01, the extra minute needed for clocking out and collecting your things.

just like he promised, steve is waiting in the parking lot. he’s out of the car, leaning against the hood with his arms crossed. 

you falter for a moment at his appearance. he’s shed his family video vest, leaving him in just a white t-shirt with two stripes and jeans, specifically the ones that hug his thighs perfectly.

“hi baby,” steve greets. his arms circle around you, pulling you into him as he sighs. “feels like i haven’t seen you in forever.”

you giggle. “i saw you yesterday.” 

he shakes his head. “too long.”

the convenience store is right down the road from where you work. steve holds your hand as you walk in, dragging you through the aisles until you get to the back as you laugh. 

the slurpee machine is thankfully working though you were sure if it wasn’t, you would’ve heard about it. it once went down during memorial day weekend and every customer that came into your work complained about it. it was brutal.

steve leaves you in the back, letting you know he’s going to grab some other snacks and will be back in a few moments.

you look towards the slurpee machine, head tilting slightly as you watch the drink rotate throughout the barrel.

a hand snaking around your waist snaps you out of your trance. 

“what flavor are you going to get, baby?” 

he’s pressed so close to you, whispering the question like it’s the most important secret in the world. you know if you call him out on his special awareness, he’ll claim that ‘this is the one time it’s cool enough in public for me to hold you.’ you don’t mind. steve’s your boy, the closeness is nice. 

“i dunno,” you mumble. small decisions like this stress you out.

his hand around you squeezes your hip. silent reassurance.

it takes a few moments for you to pick. both look good and you take your time clicking your tongue to imagine what flavor you taste.

“cherry,” you finally decide, pointing to the side with the red slush.

“good choice,” he compliments.

steve kisses your forehead before stepping forward. like the gentleman he is, he grabs two cups, larges, and fills them up; one cherry and one blue raspberry.

he pays too and you pout. “i wanted to treat you.”

“next time,” steve promises, pressing his lips quickly to yours.

you know he’s lying. 

you settle back into the passenger's seat of his car. steve’s slurpee sits firmly in the cupholder. his hand falls down to your leg and you squirm when his cold fingers touch your thigh. steve finds it hilarious.

it takes you a bit to get to your destination. once arriving, steve parks at the edge of the quarry.

it’s cooled down significantly, allowing steve to shut of the car’s ac and roll the windows down. it’s still sticky out but the cold slurpee in your hand helps that.

tears for fears plays softly out of the bmw’s sound system. you know it’s from the cassette you gifted him. perks of working at a record store.

you talk quietly back and forth about wherever comes to mind: your work schedule, the stars, plans for the weekend. but then you go quiet.

“hey stevie?” 

“yeah baby?”

when you don’t immediately respond, steve’s head lolls to meet your eyes. 

you’re curled up in the passenger's seat, legs tucked to your chest and head resting against the cool leather. you’re staring at him. he’s surprised he hasn’t felt your gaze until this point. but that’s how things typically are between the two of you; silence is never uncomfortable.

steve rests his hand on your naked knee, thumb rubbing back and forth. “everything okay?”

you nod, biting your lip to suppress a giggle.

“can we trade?” you smile and for a second steve thinks you don’t realize what you’re doing.

he sighs, though a smile tugs at the edges of his lips.

“of course, baby.”

you grin as he hands his blue raspberry slurpee and he takes your cherry one. success. 

“you know, if you weren’t so cute i wouldn’t have traded,” steve huffs. 

he’ll never admit it, or maybe not anytime in the future, but he makes it a point to order the opposite of what you get.

if you’re out to eat and decide on a salad, steve will get a burger with extra fries. you pick chocolate ice cream and steve is ordering vanilla (with sprinkles). whatever you decide, even if steve doesn’t want it, he gets the contrast. 

so, when you inevitably ask to switch, your other option is always your favorite. 

like now, when blue raspberry seems like the better flavor over cherry.

“come on stevie. you should know that my favorite color is purple,” you titter, poking your tongue out to show the result of mixing the two slurpees.

steve beams.

when he came to pick you up, you were already ready with your overnight bag.

“got your swimsuit?" steve asks when you approach the car. 

he kisses you gently before opening up your passenger door. once he’s in himself, you’re answering his question. “yes, steve, i remembered my swimsuit.”

steve glances over at you as he puts the car in drive. “god i hope it’s a bikini.”

after a quick stop at the gas station for shared beer and wine coolers with his fake id, steve was back driving you two to his house. being a homeowner at 19 sure had some perks. 

“also got us some other stuff,” he explained as he parked.

you arch a brow at him. “oh? from who and what?”

he pulls out a little green baggie and paper. you don’t miss how he hangs his head slightly. “got it from munson, i’m not proud.”

you chuckle innocently."i'm just happy i can get high tonight.”

you spend the evening by the pool, sipping on icy wine coolers and steve’s cheap beer. his wish came true when you stepped out in that baby blue checkerboard bikini he loved. from the second you dove in the water, his hands were on you: holding your hips, kissing your stained red lips, or playfully squeezing your ass. you were both successfully extremely tipsy from the alcohol and couldn’t stop giggling as steve began to help you dry off. 

“you going to shower?” you asked. 

steve initially shakes his head. “was gonna head inside and roll so we could spark up.”

“thank god..” 

and here you are now, lounging on two pool chairs, half-dressed and half-smelling like chlorine. steve had some quiet music playing out of his old walkman as you passed the joint back and forth.

you often found that weed makes you extremely touchy. something about your fuzzy brain made physical contact so soothing. it didn’t help that steve was lying shirtless, his swim trunks hanging low on his waist with a joint between his lips. .

it was a comfortable silence and one you wouldn’t pass up for the world. as you got closer and closer to the filler, the more you mellowed out. 

“you’re up stevie,” you say as you pass the joint over. when he successfully takes it from you, you move to stand up and move closer.

your presence on the pool chair is very welcomed as your arms wrap around his waist, head on his chest. steve’s free hand warps around you. “how are you feeling, baby,” he speaks, slightly slurring from the high.

“so awesome.”

steve leans down to kiss you properly, careful of the lit joint. his lips taste of a mix of weed and spearmint. yum. he pulls away to take another hit. 

it becomes increasingly apparent at that moment just how desperate you two were on a night to yourselves. your kisses start out innocent, a light peppering on his chest. they slowly, however, begin to trail up to his neck before settling on his jawline. after steve exhales the smoke, you grab his chin to pull his lips to you.

“baby, baby, please i’d love to continue this but i gotta put this out. last hit.” steve mumbles the entire plea against your lips. 

he brings the joint to your lips. “open up,” he commands softly. oh. you take your last hit and blow the smoke away. steve quickly chases that with his last hit and tosses the last bit in his ashtray. 

your lips are back on his second you two head inside and steve shuts the outside door. his hands reach down to grab the flesh of your ass and kneed his hands. “swear to god you wore that bikini to get me all worked up,” he breaks apart. 

you take his hand to pull him towards the stairs, making sure to sway your hips just a little bit more. “maybe i did.” 

once reaching the bedroom, you fall backwards onto the bed, steve immediately crawling on top to continue your kiss. 

it’s how you spend what feels like the rest of your night. lazy high sex full of nothing but love and longing. 

and once you get cleaned up and showered, you’re helped under the covers where steve immediately pulls you into him. “i love you,” he mumbles against your temple.

“i love you too.”

there’s silence for just a moment.

“hey steve? you asked into the darkness.

“yeah, baby?”