Wait, what happened?? Is there more of this story? I was really getting into it!
Ahhh, I’m so excited to tell you! There actually is more on the way! We’re about 3/4 of the way through the new chapter and then it’ll be up. It’s a fun one for sure 😉
Hey, when is the next chapter coming? These was so great! 🖤🖤
Hey!! It is in the works. We had a craaaazy week last week, and we didn’t want to put out anything that was half-baked or rushed. Be looking for it sometime this weekend! 🖤 xo c
Crimson and Clover- Read on Ao3
Chapter 7- Read on Ao3
March, 1985. Hawkins, Indiana
So maybe going to a bacteria-infested party in the dead of night during one of the coldest spells of the year wasn’t the best idea. Bedside table covered in old mugs of tea and soup, Diana was wrapped up in her comforter staring despondently at the trash bin, overflowing with used tissues. She was freezing, and it was her third day of misery.
On Saturday, she started feeling a little under the weather. Woke up a little later than usual, drudged around the house all day, had a couple of sniffles, and ignored the scratch in her throat. Sunday was a whole different ball game. Barely able to lift from her bed, she shuffled into her kitchen, where her mother was making coffee. “Dying,” she croaked, Sandra’s eyes darting up to see her daughter, pale and splotchy, with her entire comforter wrapped around her like a cape. After taking her temperature to see just under 100 degrees, they decided to hold off on the doctor’s visit.
Another mistake, it seemed, because on Monday, Diana woke up to a violent coughing fit, throbbing headache, and nasal passageways so blocked that she spent a good ten minutes lamenting about the days she used to be able to breathe normally and how she’d never take them for granted again. The women in the Dristan commercial had nothing on Diana Miller.
But even Dristan wasn’t helping. Her fever was up to 102, and Sandra had scheduled an appointment for 2:00 pm with Dr. Simmons after canceling all of her classes that day. Hazy thoughts and blurry vision compounded with having everything but the top of her head completely covered in warm fabric caused the time to go fast, and when Sandra pulled her out of bed, she groaned incessantly.
“This is why you are never allowed to get sick,” Sandra huffed, wrapping Diana’s neck in the longest scarf she could find and tugging a furry, brown bucket hat over her ears. “Because for such a great, mature kid, you turn into a big, whiny baby.”
Diana pouted beneath her scarf, a line appearing on her brow as her heavy-lidded eyes tried their best to narrow. When it didn’t work at all to guilt her mother, she relaxed and took the travel mug full of steaming hot chocolate gratefully from Sandra’s hands. Feeling a bit like Randy in A Christmas Story as she waddled down the steps in her largest, warmest coat. She laughed a donkey-like guffaw as she got stuck in the car door, causing Sandra to have to push her down into her seat. Forgoing the seatbelt because as Sandra put it, “If we crash, you’re not going anywhere anyway.”
Blank white walls and stark tile floors left the doctor’s office feeling cold and sterile, and it made Diana shiver. She hated hospitals more than almost anything, mainly out of fear. Being in a hospital rarely meant good news for Diana, like that time she broke her arm, having fallen off the small hill that housed the train tracks in the woods outside town. Or that time that Kenneth’s mother had a stroke when she was seven years old, and she had to watch her grandmother, not two days before lively and vibrant, revert to behavior patterns of a baby. This wasn’t a hospital, but it was the echo of one, and Diana wrapped her puffy arms around herself for warmth and comfort.
Based on Diana’s lowering spirits and heightening delirium from the fever, walking out with the flu was much better than the nine-days-to-live, crippling pneumonia scenario playing out in her head. It did mean she couldn’t return to school until at least twenty-four hours after her fever had broken, so when they got home, she made sure to drink a glass of water with her prescribed antibiotics while Sandra prepared another mug of tea for her. Setting down more chicken noodle soup and some saltines at the table.
Though she had basically no appetite, Diana picked and prodded at her soup with her spoon, taking small sips of the chicken broth and attempting to swallow some of the solid stuff to appease her mother, in spite of the burning in the back of her throat. Wanting only to return to the toasty confines of her bed and sleep.
She didn’t remember getting there, but the next thing she knew, her room was overtaken by darkness and the quiet still of night. Kicking out her feet a little to stretch her sore muscles, she felt something heavy at the foot of her bed. Sitting up to see what looked like the silhouette of a pile of books, she flipped on her lamp, scowling at the sheet of paper covered in Sandra’s lilting handwriting.
Monday
Calculus: Pg. 203 #21-32 (show your work)
French: Conjugations of the passé composé and imperfect forms of aimer, croire, and vouloir in complete sentences
History: Outline summary of —
At that point, Diana stopped reading, knowing that she had three more subjects to account for and that she was in no mental state to do homework. Throwing her head back on her pillow and grabbing another to cover her face, she squealed in voice-cracking frustration, cursing her mother for being responsible and helpful. Of course she’d have to do homework on top of feeling like she swallowed razor blades while submerged in green Jell-o.
Swiftly afterward, she fell back asleep.
Two full days. Two full goddamn days since Billy had seen Diana Miller. He thought he was dying. Okay, admittedly, that was a little dramatic. But he was at least waning. The weekend was fine- he noticed her light was off a lot more than normal- but he could handle Saturday. Sunday, he got a little antsy thinking he should at least hear from her. Knowing in the rational part of his brain that it was just a kiss with just another girl, and really, he should just write it off in his ledger of girls whose tongues had been down his throat.
The problem was that he wasn’t thinking with the rational part of his brain. No, his blood was too busy occupying one primary organ of his body, and he was going nuts. I mean, it was a good kiss, right? Replaying that night in his head over and over and over again. The soft skin of her leg in his hand. Her gentle, hesitant movements he assumed were out of innocence. A strong smell of her hairspray and his remnant cologne filtering through the heady scent of bodies colliding and sweat mixing.
She fucking kissed me back, didn’t she? Lips pressing to the underside of his jaw so delicately they may not have been there. Maybe he imagined all of it. Another wet dream about Diana Miller in the books. But it was real, and he knew it. He knew it because he was still missing his favorite band t-shirt, and because he learned the location of the police chief’s house, which was knowledge that may or may not be pertinent to Billy in future.
Kissing Diana Miller was perhaps the most real and grounded Billy had felt since moving to this shitty town. If he could harness that feeling, even just to have it again, he might not be such a raging piss pot all the time. And that had Billy most frustrated of all. Because if it weren’t for that girl just down the street, he might still be able to be angry at the world.
But he could still be angry with her. And he was, especially on Monday morning when she wasn’t in Chemistry. He stared pointedly at her seat the entirety of class, cursing her for not being there. Where the hell is she? He had to wonder if she was avoiding him. If somehow wires were crossed, no way was she into it, this was all just a grand fucking mistake. Most things with Billy were, after all.
Though on Tuesday, there was no sign of her either, and Billy actually found himself a little twisted with concern. Enough so that he hovered around her horrible, preppy, jock friends just to catch a hint of where she might be. She hadn’t mentioned anything about leaving. After three class changes of just lingering nearby, Tommy stupidly remarking on the girls’ figures by his side, he finally latched onto the words “flu” and “make-up work.”
Of course, the first time he goes out of his way to make out with a girl in this town, she ends up bedridden with a viral infection.
By Wednesday morning, Billy Hargrove was chomping at the bit to see Diana again. Absent from Chem yet another day, he shook off the feeling that he should just cut class to go see her. That is, until he noticed Steve fucking Harrington in the hallway with her friends. The tall one, Betty, he recalled, was handing over a workbook to Steve. “- and I’ve highlighted the page numbers of what she needs to do in here by the time she gets back-“
That asshole was taking her homework to her? Like hell is he seeing her before I am. Fifth period was encroaching, and Billy had had enough. Pulling a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lighting it on his way out the door to his car.
Bright light trickled in from Diana’s curtains- something about the cold always made the Indiana sun seem brighter than usual. Her fever had broken not two hours ago after lots of medication, water, sleep, and a blanket lamination so high on her bed that she couldn’t see over the tops of her feet. Finally aware enough of her surroundings that she could begin on the mountain of homework piled up next to the blankets on her bed.
She was itching to get back to school. Long draughts of intense, trance-like sleeping with intermittent spurts of semi-awake coughing fits and forcing soup down into her stomach didn’t leave much time for thought about the world of the living. Now that she could focus on what waited on her, it was all she could do to not scramble out of the house. She wanted to run. She wanted to teach. She wanted to kiss Billy Hargrove again. It didn’t seem fair that she got those few moments with him just to be separated for nearly a full week. Why hasn’t he called or dropped by? Though, to be fair, she could have ponied up and called him just as well.
She missed the gym class too. Wondering how the new group of kids would take to her disappearing for three days at the beginning of the cycle. Especially after her outburst in the past week. But she really wanted to connect with them, and she was excited to get back to work. Though not in the form of the textbooks and notebooks that were currently taking up the majority of her bedspread.
Her mind was still thinking in French conjugations when she heard a knock. “Entrez!” she called without thinking, head shooting up to look at the very open door with the very empty frame. Knowing it definitely wasn’t the front door because it sounded so close, and who would be at her house in the middle of the school day? I can think of one person, her face lit up when the knock came again, and she scooted toward the window. Opening the curtains to see shaggy blonde curls and keen eyes.
As she lifted the window for him, Billy climbed through deftly, grumbling as his feet hit the ground, “Where the hell have you been?” Approaching her slowly, lower lip running between his teeth as his features softened from the sight of her. All red and puffy, hair a mess, sweatpants riding low on her waist and tank top inching up.
“You know, we have a front door,” she remarked, standing still as he got closer. The unmistakable smell of his cologne and smoke made her want to drown in him, her heart rate quickening.
He laughed and ran his tongue over the bottom of his teeth, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “But your mom-“
“Isn’t here. And apparently doesn’t care. She knows,” she smirked as his eyes widened. “It’s fine, Billy,” she lifted her hand to rest on his arm, pinching a fold of the denim between her thumb and forefinger as she stepped closer to him. Both their eyes set on the fabric rolling through her fingertips.
He finally raised his gaze to look at her, returning the soft smile barely painted on her face. “I, uh, I couldn’t wait,” he said, his voice dropping half an octave.
Inhaling in a sharp and uneven breath, her eyes dropped to his lips. “For what?”
Again, no introduction was necessary as his right hand grasped the back of her neck and his left slid around the band of exposed skin to her back, pulling her into him. They were kissing again, nearly a full week from the last time, yet it felt like no time had passed between them at all. He was more fervent, pressing his hips against hers as he kept his hand firm on the small of her back, fingers slipping under the fabric. As he did so, she became increasingly aware of the rough of denim against her skin, and even more what lay beneath.
Sighing against his lips, Diana skimmed her hand up his chest, all the way to rest it gently on his cheek. Breathing him in. Eyelashes fluttering, she became aware of herself, primarily the fact that she still couldn’t breathe steadily through her nose. She pushed him back an inch and broke away, brow furrowed. “I’m sick, you idiot.”
Blank eyes meeting hers, he lowered his face to kiss her again. “Billy!… Billy,” she pulled her lips from his, breathing out a laugh. “You don’t need to catch the flu.”
“What part of any of this makes you think I give a damn?” he responded, dubious to her protests. When she didn’t say anything, he resumed his work against her lips, pulling and nipping playfully. Turning her so that his back was to the bed, and falling flat against it. Groaning when his shoulder blade hit something rigid.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” she laughed again, clambering to move the textbooks further down the mattress. Her lithe frame crawled over his, hips settling on his stomach as she sunk down to meet him once more. Chin lifting, Billy drew his hands up her thighs to her sides, fingers wrapping around her to guide her body against his. She kept her hands firmly planted on either side of his head until she felt steady enough to place them on his cheeks. Lowering her head to map out the skin of his neck with her lips. His hands shifted, gracelessly clutching at her ass as he breathed in through her hair.
He was alight in her, and though far too removed to make real, conscious decisions, he was also content to let even this last much longer than it would have with literally anyone else in Hawkins. So, something like an hour went by, and they were still in a similar position (though he was now propped up on a pillow, her torso resting against his comfortably), kissing and laughing and exploring, when the doorbell rang.
Through clouded thoughts and swollen lips, she pushed herself off of him, looking through the floor and muttering an inarticulate, “Who…?”
“Harrington,” he conceded, irritation lacing his voice. “Bringing your homework.”
Hopping off of him, she raised her eyebrows suggestively. “Oh, how I love when a man tries to woo me with nice gifts.”
Billy glared at her.
Scrunching up her face and speaking at a higher pitch than normal to mock him, “Not funny, yet? No? Okay.”
Disgruntled and more than a little annoyed that the doorbell was ringing yet again, I mean would you keep your shit together, Harrington?, he slid off the bed, making his way toward the door. “You’re not going down there,” he said pointedly, staring down at her.
“Oh, how I love when a man tries to woo me by picking up my nice gifts,” she altered her previous statement with a smirk.
Cheeky as he felt, he reached down to give her ass a squeeze. “Better,” he acknowledged, smiling when she softly pressed her lips to his cheek. Her eyes followed him, and she bit her lip happily, falling back on the bed and giggling that he came to see her. That he was as tantalized by that night as she was. That he was there with her, just letting her kiss him and joke with him and get to know him.
As he made his way down the stairs and Harrington rang the doorbell for what seemed like the twentieth time, he smiled to himself, for once not wanting to punch King Steve in the teeth. He didn’t seem like so much of a king now.
When he opened the door, Steve’s jaw fell slack. “Hargrove? The hell are you doing here?”
A twinkle in his eye, he kept his face stoic. “Could ask you the same thing.”
“I have homework,” Steve raised the workbook in the air reluctantly, and Billy reached for it, clasping the binding quickly before Steve moved to place it behind his back, resulting in a quick but not so fun game of tug-of-war.
Billy won out, pulling the book against his stomach and leaning in toward Harrington. “I’ve got her. Stay away,” he warned, and Steve just grinned at him in disbelief.
Turning away and taking strides toward the BMW. “If that’s your attitude, my man, you don’t have her at all,” he called over his shoulder. Billy took a sharp breath, trying to calm the fire brewing within. Thinking about the beautiful girl waiting for him upstairs. She for sure wasn’t waiting for Steve.
When he got back to the room, he surveyed her sprawled across the bed (if you could call it that, since it was mostly books and blankets), eyes lingering on the widened band of skin between her sweatpants and tank top. Throwing her workbook to the other side of the duvet, he began slipping off his jacket, letting it drop to the floor before tugging at the hem of his shirt.
Gaping at him curiously, Diana lifted her head, “What? What are you doing?”
“Your job,” he spoke plainly, pulling the white t-shirt slowly over his chest. “Since you aren’t doing this, I’m doing it for you.”
Diana started laughing, sitting up and gesturing for him to join her. Dropping the hem of his shirt, he sauntered over, ready for her to take the lead. Smirking when she ran her fingers over the hem, his hands skimmed from her shoulders to her elbows. She placed a small kiss right above his navel, and he nearly came unhinged. Sensing her pulling the front of his shirt up, he moved to help her.
But Diana was too quick, raising the front hem and tucking it over and behind his head. She laughed maniacally as he jerked it down, a glare on his face, settling on the floor by the bed with his back to the frame.
“Look,” he started, reaching into his pocket to pull out a cigarette, “if this is all some joke, I’m leaving.” Harrington’s words getting to him. Maybe she didn’t want him after all. That’s why she was making light of everything, and he was just wasting his fucking time.
“I don’t-“ Diana paled at the shift in tone, reaching down to cover his hand holding the cig. “What? No, of course it’s not a joke.” Her hand lifted of its own accord, thumb running along the underside of his jaw until she could tug his chin gently so that he was looking up at her. “Hey,” she said softly, sidling off the bed until she was crouched next to him, nuzzling her head in the crook of his neck.
In a show of affirmation, he tilted his face into her hair, letting his cheek rest against her scalp. “Will you be at school tomorrow?” he wondered aloud.
Her head shook against his shoulder. “Lots of work. And my fever only broke a few hours ago.”
He grunted disapprovingly. “Well, I’ll swing by with your homework.”
“You’re leaving?” she looked up at him with glazed-over big, blue eyes and wondered if he’d stay were she to ask. He was contemplating the same thing.
He nodded. “Have to pick up Max.” A brief nod met him in response, and without thought, he leaned into her a final time, lips soft and languid. She took in a sharp breath through her nose, catching his bottom lip between her teeth and letting the tip of her tongue run against it. Pulling away with foreheads still pressed against one another.
As he got up and grabbed his jacket to head downstairs, she added, “Tell Max I said hello!” And though he wasn’t facing her and kept walking, in spite of himself, he smiled.
“Feel better, Miller.”
Six days of being stuck at home, and Diana had cabin fever, big time. Three short visits of Betty and Missy in addition to two long dalliances with one Billy Hargrove helped ease some of her apprehension though. Sandra didn’t know about the latter, but she couldn’t stop thinking of them.
Actually, that was a lie. Because Diana also had thirty pages of makeup reading assignments, a translation due in French, forty problems assigned in Calculus, and a history paper to do during her two (only counting the days she was semi-conscious) days off. The make-up lab for Chemistry had to wait until she was back in school. So really, she spent only about an hour or so a day musing over Billy, and the rest of her time devoted to finishing her work by the time she returned.
Sandra had been working like a dog to make up for the two days she missed of work. They were so close to being able to afford the down payment on the Jeep, and the last thing she wanted to do was fall behind. And with Diana missing her own jobs, they were already pushing it. They needed the new car, badly- the old Bronco not holding out as well as it used to, especially in the cold.
All that plus the fact that Diana was itching to get back outside and run had her fidgeting as she finished the last paragraph of her history paper. Knees shaking and tongue clicking as she came up with the last two lines to conclude the final thought, writing steadily though her mind was a mess.
Throwing herself back onto her pillow, she huffed a sigh of relief that her homework was finally finished. The room seemed darker, and she groaned when she turned her head to the window to see a sliver of navy sky through the curtains. Spread-eagled over the bed, Diana thought about laying with Billy only hours before. His body positioned similarly, with her propped up against and slightly over his, her leg inserted between his knees. Feeling adventurous, they’d disposed of his shirt early on, so that as they talked and kissed and laughed and his fingers combed through her hair, hers traced over the lines of his muscles.
All she could think about were ultramarine eyes, sun-kissed skin, a hot mouth, and strong hands. She wasn’t sure what made her feel more feverish- the bout of influenza or the way he left her. Slowly burning her up from the inside, taking his time with her. He could kiss her and leave her in a hot and flushed frenzy, and really that’s all he had done so far. Not yet pushing any further, though Diana couldn’t say why. He was so quiet when they were together, and it was difficult to tell what swirled around in that pretty head of his. Maybe he knew it wouldn’t do any good. That she wasn’t that type of girl. Di didn’t even know what type of girl she was, but she did know there were times when she wanted to be totally consumed by the fire spread by his mouth and hands.
She knew Billy Hargrove wasn’t one to take it slow, so it was probably time to kick it up a notch. Jumping up out of her bed and skipping to her closet, she opened the door to reveal the Zeppelin shirt hung with care in the middle of the rack. Fabric ran soft beneath her fingers, and lifting it to her face, she inhaled the scent of him. She couldn’t quite place it because behind the smoke and the musk and smell of boy, there was almost something floral. Maybe detergent? She couldn’t care less when it left her reeling, reminded of her days in California.
He’d made a comment about the “lost” shirt when he came over, and she blushed, placing light kisses over his shoulder so that he’d drop the subject. But he still smiled like he knew a private joke, and so she’d kissed his lips too, just for good measure.
Eyeing the black fabric pensively, she grabbed her nicest pair of jeans and paired them together. Most of her closet was leisure wear, and she didn’t tend to wear a lot of cardigans or jackets, so when she spotted a slip of ivory tucked in the back of the closet, she pulled it out warily. Not having seen it in years, she felt the stiff material with barely any touch, treating it like it could bite her. Sometimes she felt like the memories still did, memories of a happy, whole family that no longer existed. Wrapping the blazer around the hanger holding Billy’s t-shirt and hoping that the good feelings Billy brought would somehow melt into the cold ivory of Kenneth’s old sport jacket. Diana Miller fell asleep accomplished and anticipating the morning.
When she got dressed after she woke, she eyed herself in the mirror, proud of her work. She’d even gone to the effort to do heavier makeup, eyes traced in a smudged black. Brushing out her curls and pulling all of her hair to one side. Eat your heart out, Billy Hargrove.
As per usual, Tommy and Jeff were standing around Billy while he leaned against the lockers, griping about something pointless and uninteresting. All Billy had to do was nod semi-apathetically to appease them, even with his eyes laser focused on the entrance to the school. He found it hard to not think about Diana, not just because he was inexplicably frustrated and completely unsatisfied, but because he didn’t feel like such an asshole when he was with her. She was fun and smart and interesting, and being around her didn’t make him lose IQ points. But she was also elusive enough to be cool, and being the newly-crowned King made it really important that he only dated cool. Being Billy Hargrove made it really important that he only dated cool. Not that he was dating Diana. Hell, he didn’t know what was going on.
Especially not when she walked through the door. The neckline of his t-shirt hung lower on her, the fabric draped loosely over her chest. She’d tucked it into her jeans (and Tommy wasn’t wrong about the way she filled out her Calvins) and thrown a blazer on over it, and Billy was ignited. Here she was, strutting down the hall in her little boots, wearing his fucking shirt. And no one knew it but them. He could have erupted right there in the middle of the fucking hallway.
She did that thing again, where she approached and made it look like she was going to stop when really having no intention to, but he was learning to read her. Watching her expectantly and reaching out to hook his forefinger around her belt loop as she passed. He yanked her hard into him, and the hand that wasn’t holding her books splayed out against the locker with a resonant thud.
Laughing as she fell into him, he watched her bite her lip and wished frantically that he could bite it too. Both Tommy and Jeff were observing them with wide eyes, but Billy didn’t give a damn. Let ‘em watch. His breath hot against her ear, he whispered slowly, “What the hell do you think you’re doing-” making a point to slide his eyes down to her chest and back up to meet her acute gaze, “-in that?”
“Making my grand entrance,” she giggled. “Ta-da, it’s been a week, but I’m back! You know?”
Shaking his head as a slight smile played on his lips, “You haven’t heard the end of this.” He released her belt loop, discreetly dragging his hand down her hip on the inside of her blazer before dropping it to his side.
A coy smirk on her face told him she knew exactly what she would hear later, and it made his fucking knees buckle to see her pull away from him looking like that. The amount of times Diana resembled a wet dream in real life caused Billy the impurest of thoughts in the most inappropriate places. Surrounded by his friends in the middle of a starkly lit hallway was up there in the category of places-Billy-should-not-think-of-Diana-Miller-taking-his-shirt-off. Yet there he was, eyes following her as she turned back with a quick wave of her fingers and a look that promised he’d be seeing her soon.
The exposed side of her neck was visible to him all through Chemistry, and he was having trouble focusing. Smooth and reactive, touching her skin felt like running his hand over still water. Like if he pressed too hard, it would shift out of his way, and no matter how many times he pulled away, she was still there. It was fucking addictive, and just as he wouldn’t give up smoking, there was no way in hell he was about to give up Diana Miller. Not without a good reason.
So he scratched at the surface, taking what he could and relishing in what he received. And maybe one day, he’d get a little more. Of course, he was absolutely planning on getting what he could after school that day. It had been too long since he’d seen her in action, and he had every intention of watching her in the gym, running around and sweating in his shirt. Gross pre-teen boys were a small price to pay to see her.
Ill suited to being stealthy, Di was shooting glances to Billy out of her periphery. Attempting to seem uninterested, she gazed out of the window to her left, sneaking peeks of Billy, who was unabashedly staring at her. Her stomach tightened when he shifted forward, tired of the game, and she finally turned her head fully to meet his eyes. Tommy scoffed between the two of them, and Billy chewed on his tongue as he waited for Kaminsky to turn around so that he could smack the back of Tommy’s head.
Diana turned front with a smile plastered over her face.
As she expected, the new class was a little alarmed by her absence. When Harry walked into the gym and saw Diana, he stopped short and called out, “We thought you died!”
“Don’t be dramatic, Williams,” Coach Hart responded blandly from her desk, barely sparing a glance to curly-haired boy.
Will Byers walked up to Diana, looking at her curiously with his immense chocolate eyes. “It has been a while,” he observed. “Glad you’re okay though.” She smiled at him, and as he walked away she thought about the kindness that ran through the Byers family. Joyce was a doll, a nervous wreck, but a doll nonetheless. And even Jonathan, though not the most social creature (of course, neither was Di), had always seemed good-hearted and gracious. Then there was Will, poor Will. A sickly looking boy who didn’t seem to know his place in the world. Diana always felt a little bit of a kindred spirit in people like that- she could tell she would take to Will like she did to Dustin.
Where Will was, Jane Hopper was never far, always looming protectively around the boy. Sure, it wasn’t a secret that Joyce and Jim had grown closer since Bob Newby’s death, but this seemed more important than siblings, more necessary. Jane was also always giving Diana a strange look, like she was something foreign. Or familiar? She couldn’t tell.
Hart got up to take attendance, and soon they were all playing basketball. Running around, Diana felt her body temperature rise quickly in the gym, opting to remove her blazer and roll up the sleeves of her t-shirt. Billy’s t-shirt, she grinned as she reminded herself.
While she was helping Jason and Heather with their free throws, she felt the weight of his presence in the room before she saw him. Turning her head to confirm her suspicion that Billy Hargrove had come to watch her again. This time, it wouldn’t annoy her- this time, she wanted to show off for him. Taking unnecessary turns at the free throw line just to make it so he’d see. Actually, she was on top form for the duration of class, saying all the right things to the kids, modeling correct technique, and feeling on top of the world. Maybe Billy Hargrove could be her cheerleader. Maybe he was her good luck charm.
In all honesty, he couldn’t have cared less if she was playing like shit or teaching the worst technique on the planet. His focus unwavering from her ass in those jeans. Diana looked sexy as hell either way, and he knew she would when he set out to watch her. Her hair pulled back so that the expanse of her neck was on show. Cheeks tinged with pink, bringing out the sharp blue of her eyes. His shirt wrapped around her and tucked into her just-tight-enough jeans. He felt unashamed in watching her so purposefully.
That is until a small frame walked directly into his line of sight and remained, blocking his view of Diana. Looking upward to see a familiar mop of curls and searching eyes. “Billy?” Jane asked plainly.
He relaxed back into the bleachers, arms spreading out over the seats. “Hey, weird girl,” a smile playing on his lips.
“Why are you here?” She wasn’t being rude, and Billy laughed at her blunt approach.
“Here to see a friend,” he bowed his head toward Diana, and Jane turned to look.
Nodding and facing him once more, she stated, “You guys are friends.” Thinking back to how she caught him outside of Diana’s house in the early hours of the morning.
“Something like that.”
The conversation was cut short by the shrill pitch of the whistle and kids running to put their basketballs in the canvas hamper next to the coach’s desk. Jane smiled at Billy before joining her classmates as they headed toward the locker rooms to change. Diana didn’t immediately veer to meet him. She was propped up against the desk, talking to the coach. He looked around the gym absentmindedly, confused when Diana and the coach were no longer in sight. The hamper was gone, so it wasn’t hard to deduce where she was.
Peering around the corner of the equipment closet to see Diana reaching for the air pressure gauge on the top shelf of the nearest rack, Billy ambled in, settling directly behind her back and spanning over her to get the gauge. Laying it on a more convenient shelf as he breathed into her ear, “Where’s Coach?”
Sucking in a sharp breath at the shockwaves his breath sent over her rattled nerves, she turned her head so that her lips brushed against his, not engaging him yet. “With your sister.” Eyelashes fluttering. “At the high school gym.” Nudging her nose gently against his. “For soccer practice.”
He couldn’t take it anymore knowing they were at no risk of interruption, his hands running over her sides until planting on her hips and spinning her around to face him. A gasp escaped her as he pinned her to the rack, causing the metal frame to give a violent shudder. His hands catching her arms and pushing them up over her head as he continued grazing her lips and cheeks with his mouth.
Annoyed at his stalling, Diana moved to catch his lips in hers, but he pulled away, the corner of his mouth quirking upward at her impatience. He dropped his head so that he could place light kisses around the neckline of his shirt, and her head fell back against the shelf with a sigh. Biting at the fabric, he stretched it away from her skin, waiting until her eyes captured his to let go. “This,” he released her arms to grip at the shirt, “was torture, and I hope you understand that.”
The weight of her arms fell on his shoulders, hooking around his neck as she pulled him into her. “Then my job here is done,” pressing her lips against his roughly. She didn’t hesitate to open her mouth to him, his tongue instinctively reacting. She could have melted into the way he was kissing her, warm and all-consuming.
Billy needed to be closer to her, grasping at her thighs until she jumped and hitched her legs around his waist. Clumsily and blindly walking toward any solid surface for more stability, causing Di to release a small “oof” against his lips as her back hit cinderblock. Without realizing what she was doing, she ground her hips against his, hard, and Billy groaned, sinking his teeth into her lower lip in payback. She laughed, her arms rewinding around his chest to pull his torso closer as she moved to kiss him again. They were obnoxious and raucous, slamming into equipment and always changing positions as they indulged in one another. Breathing and drinking each other in.
In his arms, Diana felt like she was fucking invincible. Her skin alight wherever he touched her (which to be fair, was anywhere he saw skin). He trailed his lips up her arms, all over her neck and face. He nipped at her ears playfully. He kissed her eyelids delicately. He was absolutely everywhere, and somehow Diana needed him even more. It was maddening and exhilarating and she didn’t know how to calm the fire within her. Especially when he bucked his hips into hers. The more he did that, the more rushing waves sounded in her ears, the more her vision flashed white. She thought she would know her limits- she was beginning to understand that she didn’t know if she had any at all.
Minutes on minutes passed, and they were still as rooted in one another as they had been. All until the alarm on Billy’s watch beeped and he tore away suddenly. “I have to go,” he whispered, kissing her nose in remorse. Silently wishing they could stoke the flames caused by their melding bodies for at least another moment longer.
She frowned, skimming her fingers through his curls and thinking about the little piece of paper she had stuffed away in her pocket as a safety measure. In case she couldn’t get out the words the way she wanted to. Retrieving it into the palm of her hand, she wrapped her arms around him once more. He breathed heavily against her, addicted to the way their bodies felt pressed together. Almost not feeling when she slipped her hand flat into his back pocket. “Read it later,” she breathed, placing one more kiss to his red, aggravated lips.
He nodded, extricating himself reluctantly. Unable to rip his eyes from the sight of her disheveled and swollen and unequivocally sexy, he walked backwards until he was back in the gym and she was out of sight. Grumbling his way out of the building and to his car, he unfolded the scrap of paper she had tucked into his jeans.
In clean, loopy handwriting, she had written something familiar:
I’m tired of waiting to die. Let’s go out.
Grinning at the reference, he kept reading.
Pick me up at noon on Monday. Plan something nice.
He didn’t know what she thought they’d be able to do at noon on the first day of their Spring Break, and he didn’t know why she thought she could get away with that sort of audacity. But most of all, he didn’t know why he was trying to convince himself he’d do anything but exactly what she asked him to.
“Maybe it was the fact that his jeans left very little to the imagination. Or that his hair was the kind of golden brown that caught the sunlight just so. Or that the left corner of his mouth turned up as he lifted the cigarette to his lips.
Diana walked right on by but didn’t say anything.”
It had been a week since Diana Miller had talked to him, and he felt like he was going out of his fucking mind. He had been trying to catch her attention to gauge if she was still pissed about the Martha comment, but she avoided him at every turn. She had clearly been cold in class, the way she pulled her hands into the sleeves of her fuzzy grey sweater and wrapped her arms around herself to warm up, so why wouldn't she take his jacket? She was so fucking stubborn.
It wasn’t like he was even seriously considering taking Martha whats-her-face to the goddamn party. He had just wanted to see if she would bite at the idea of maybe going with him, but she hadn't given him anything in the car. So being the shit he was, he figured he needed to get a reaction out of her somehow, and the calculated Martha comment seemed to do that - hitting Di in her insecurities about whatever it was that was happening between them. Fuming was better than nothing, right?
And where did Harrington get off calling Di and Max his girls? It was already weird he spent so much time with Max and his stupid nerd-squad - but Diana was off-limits. He thought he had made that clear at the gym that day, but clearly Harrington needed reminding of that fact. Billy was itching for a fight, and maybe he had found it. Hopefully Harrington would show at the party, say something else stupid, and Billy could quell some of the electricity thrumming under his skin. It was keeping him on edge - that same electricity that had something to do with the recurring dream of chestnut hair, long legs, and a certain bikini-clad girl smiling over her shoulder to him from the waves off Venice Beach - looking like the sun-kissed Diana of his fantasies. It made him unsatisfied and powerful with want, a deadly combination.
Somewhere between the matinee and the earring, Diana had become a permeant resident in the hostile his thoughts - and now his dreams. And the silence of this forced standoff with her felt a whole hell of a lot like the bracingly cold Indiana wind that had become his ever-present reminder of the absolutely shit-hole state he found himself trapped in - cold and steely.
In the brief times they had spent together, Di was like the winter sun - unexpected, brilliant, and blinding. He gently fingered the small gold reminder of her in his ear. He had put it on right after they got up from recovering from their race to the field - feeling hot, exposed, and oddly vulnerable at her gesture. It was like she had really seen him in that moment, and it was was both terrifying and electrifying. Molly Ringwald had nothing on the intensity of Di's eyes as she put the little earring in Billy’s hand. He could almost still feel the searing pressure of her warm hands closing over his as she gave him the stud, but the ghost of that touch was quickly replaced by the harsh slap of reality from Diana completely ignoring him all week. When would she fucking get over it? Had the earring meant nothing after all?
He needed a distraction from the cold both in his head and in the air, and what better way to forget his worries for a night than to get absolutely trashed at Donna's party and remind this backwards town and its former "King" who really runs Hawkins, Indiana? Maybe he could remind himself while he was at it.
Tucking his favorite red button-down into his tight leather pants, Billy went through his normal routine as Def Leppard coursed through his stereo speakers - the same stereo that Diana's legging-clad ass had narrowly avoided a week ago. He groaned audibly at the memory now. He had to shake her. Billy Hargrove did not go all bitch for a pair of legs and a pretty face. No sooner had he thought it though, he felt his brain fight against the idea that Diana Miller was just a pretty face. She was Hot Water Music in a sea of Waldon Pond - and Billy was beginning to drown.
And right now, he fucking hated her for it.
As the tape ended, he was broken from his reverie. With a few swipes of cologne and a last check of his ass - he grabbed the keys and quietly left the house through the front door with Loch Nora in mind. Self-destruction always did look good in leather, and a party on the rich-side of town is exactly what he needed.
We are so excited you are here! We want to know you and love you - so please, please, please send anything to our asks. We are super down to talk about anything - HC’s, life stuff, ST stuff, get-to-know-you stuff - fic related or not! There are two of us, so don’t be surprised if you get answered back by onpennylane (my main) or fallenwhitedoors (k’s main).
Thanks for being awesome and being with us!! All our love.
Hawkins was still frigid, and quite frankly, Diana was too. She had barely spared a glance to Billy the entire school week following their awkward commute to her house. Perhaps it was unfair for her to so blatantly rebuke him (like that time on Wednesday when she was freezing cold in chemistry and he thrusted his jacket to her after class, only for her to ignore the gesture), but maybe he should have thought about how unfair his passing comment about goddamn Martha was. Fuming and stewing and plotting, Diana decided there was no way in hell she was missing Donna’s party. It was time to call in the professional.
“Mom,” Diana padded into the den on Saturday morning, “can you help me with something?”
Setting down her coffee and paper, Sandra cocked an eyebrow at her daughter. “Depends,” she said warily.
Di rocked on her heels, hands clasped in front of her stomach, lip running through her teeth, running over how she was going to phrase her question. “Well,” she began, “there’s a party next week," pausing to see her mother's reaction.
Eyes twinkling, Sandra nodded, a signal for Di to continue.
Diana looked at the ground, lowering her voice, embarrassed that she was approaching her mom about something so trivial... and social. "And I don't have anything to wear."
Biting her cheek to keep from smiling too wide, Sandra’s eyes twinkled in a laugh. “And you need dear old Momma to buy you something?”
Chagrined, Diana nodded, blood rushing to her cheeks as she ran her hands over her face. “And, you know…”
“…Yes?”
“Help me find, uh, something that… looks good?” She glanced up sheepishly to a grinning Sandra.
After a beat, Sandra narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing her daughter. “If I may ask, who is this for, my dear?”
Diana wrapped her arms over her chest defensively, a picture of Billy awestruck and speechless flashing through her vision, “No one, Mom!” Looking away, “I just want to look… not like myself.”
“Okay okay,” Sandra put her hands up in surrender, “Of course I’ll help.” Diana rolled her lips in, a timid smile passing over her face.
Sandra crossed the room quickly to their full length bookshelf, stuffed with books, records, and magazines alike. Pulling out a copy of one of Diana’s old ‘Teen magazines, she rifled through it, her daughter looking over her shoulder. They must have spent an hour looking through magazines and catalogues for inspiration, finally settling on a ‘we’ll just have to make it work’ sort of attitude that led them to the nearest department store.
The Girl’s Clothing section at Sears was packed with people all shopping for Spring Break vacationing clothes, but no section was busier than the swimsuit collection. Diana counted herself lucky that they had searched those magazines and found coupons because the suit she wanted was just out of her price range. They walked out with what they needed, an extra set of on sale black patent leather pumps in tow and a fire brewing in Diana’s gut.
Diana missed the old class way more than she thought she would. Halfway through the semester, PE was set to switch students. There were no more encounters with Dustin or Libby to look forward to, and she hadn’t seen Max at all since the changeover. She knew it would be an adjustment, but she hadn’t realized how much.
The new rotation of eighth graders was rowdy. Coach Hart had stepped out after having been called to the office, so Diana was supposed to be leading the students in a round of volleyball. But Sally had fallen and ripped the seat of her shorts, and Ben had accidentally served a volleyball right into his eye. To make matters worse, Brett was cracking jokes about the incident, his final one causing the class to erupt in laughter.
Feeling her hands ball into fists, fingernails sinking into her palms, molars grinding on skin inside her cheek, Diana finally, for the first time the entire semester, lost her temper. “Alright, that’s it!” she yelped, clapping her hands loudly. “Everyone take a seat, and for the love of God, shut your damn mouths!”
Lights flickering above, Diana threw her head back. She was annoyed at the kids, frustrated at the amount of work she had to do before break, and most of all anxious about the party lingering two days ahead. Exhaling dramatically, she dropped her gaze to see that all twenty five students were sitting compliantly, eyes wide and mouths clamped closed. Ben avoided eye contact with her, and as she scanned the room, the first person she noticed looking at her dead on was the girl she’d seen occasionally with Max. Jane Hopper, she remembered vaguely. Jane stared at her with narrowed and suspicious eyes, head cocked to the side.
Uncomfortable at the surveillance, Diana looked away to the person on Jane’s right. Will Byers was kneeling beside her, large brown eyes also focused on Diana. When Coach Hart re-entered the gymnasium, she was surprised to find the room in complete silence, walking over to Diana and giving her a quick pat on the back. She could see what had happened, her own anger getting the best of her sometimes as well.
She spoke warmly to the abashed teenager beside her. “Welcome to being a teacher. You’re officially part of the club.”
“Ow, god, are you trying to make me bald?” Diana cried as Betty pulled a teasing brush through Diana’s hair.
Betty grinned, although Di couldn’t see with her head flipped over the way it was. “The bigger the hair, the smaller the waist.” At school on Monday, Diana had told Betty about the party, asking if she’d join. Though ragers were not in either Di’s or Betty’s vocabulary, Betty had considered going just for the possibility of seeing Steve. But she thought about the chance that he might have taken someone else and the looming exams and excess homework she had coming up and declined. Instead offering to help Diana get ready as well as a ride to the Lewis’.
Grimacing, Diana groaned, “But I already have a small waist.”
“Well fine. The bigger the hair, the closer you are to God.”
“You’ll be pretty close to God if you don’t stop yanking my scalp.”
Huffing at her friend’s irritability, Betty guided Di’s head up to touch up the top layer of her curls. She listened as Di complained about Billy Hargrove, knowing that her demeanor now was just a reflection of her nerves for the evening. Billy had stopped acknowledging Diana when he caught a gust of her iciness, and she was concerned about seeing him all over Martha Davies. Betty had just accepted that though Diana wouldn’t admit it, she was way more invested in him than she wanted to be. When Sandra walked in to dump a load of makeup on the bed and give her thoughts on what they should use, Betty began to speak, “I think the bolder, the better. Especially for-“ Halting when Diana jabbed her elbow back into Betty’s stomach and shot her a warning glare.
Sandra eyed them both suspiciously before shrugging and hanging the clothes that were draped over her arm on the door. Through the mirror, Diana saw that the full, red skirt they had bought had been shortened by half, and Sandra had added a couple of extra layers of tulle to poof it out. The pewter swimsuit they found looked almost completely different, cut apart and re-sewn into ties that formed two separated bows at the front. Betty gawked at the ensemble. “You did that, Ms. Miller?”
Bowing her head demonstratively, Sandra thanked her, striding over quickly to plant a kiss to her daughter’s cheek before leaving her room and closing the door behind her. They spent another half an hour doing Diana’s makeup before she put on her outfit and all of the bold, metallic jewelry they bought to accompany it. Diana slipped on the new heels and Betty gave her a once over, nodding approvingly before turning her around to face the mirror.
Eleven out of ten times, Diana felt miles more comfortable wearing athletic gear over anything else. That is, until she saw herself in the outfit her mother had altered for her to wear at this party. Her lean, toned build was on full display, even with peeks of her midriff between the two bows. A strapless neckline accentuated the square of her shoulders, and the volume of the skirt drew all the attention to her legs. Fleetingly, she had the thought that she could probably kill Billy with this outfit. Or at least knock the wind out of him.
She tied her longest coat around her waist, fluffing her hair out over it and grabbing Betty’s hand. Rushing out the door, she spared a hug and a thank you for Sandra before hurrying to the car and popping in Madonna’s Like a Virgin (a continuation of their hype music from the makeover). When they pulled up to the house just on the entrance of Loch Nora, she turned to Betty pleadingly.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come? I think Harrington will be here!” she smiled, knowingly prodding Betty in the arm.
Betty didn’t hesitate before answering, patting Di’s stiff curls, “I love you, but that sounds awful. You go in there and kick Billy’s ass.” Pausing before adding quickly, “And tell Steve I say hi.”
Diana pouted, then nodded her head. “I won’t let him forget about you, I promise,” she said with a smile. Climbing out of the car and shutting the door, she faced the house, her heart thudding violently in her chest. Almost as loud as the music radiating from inside. She took a few wary steps before stopping and inhaling a deep breath to compose herself. She thought of Billy and his stupid ocean eyes and candy lips, and resolved herself that whatever happened, she gave it her best shot. Like she would have if this were a track meet and she knew she had worthy opponents. Though like hell is Martha Davies worthy. A façade of confidence masking her face, she marched up the steps and into the house.
There were only a few faces she recognized in the house. The ones she did know were looking at her in shock. Diana did not go to parties. When she took off her coat, she noticed more eyes on her and several expressions go slack, specifically the looks on Carol’s and Vicki’s faces. She handed her coat to a sophomore standing by her, asking him politely to hang it up for her, to which he scurried away without a second glance as the opening shred of "Rock You Like a Hurricane" sliced through the din and haze of the party. She felt powerful.
And as she walked further into the house, she felt another, heavier set of eyes on her. She knew without looking that Billy was watching her, though when she did finally catch sight of him, she felt the wind leave her chest. A dark red button down, sleeves rolled up to above his elbow, unbuttoned to his navel, and tucked into black, leather pants. As she approached, she caught a flash of gold- he was wearing her moon-shaped stud in his ear. His gaze was deadly, jaw clamped and lips quirked into a smug grin. He stood, back to the staircase, Tommy jabbering at his side.
Looking at Diana Miller, he thought he could have punched his own father right then and there. His eyes drifted down to the exposed sections of her stomach, following the line in the middle of her abdomen right down to her legs, a mile long in shiny, black heels. If he could have written a song about her in leggings, he could have penned an entire fucking novel about her legs in those heels. She was looking at him too, and he moved to extricate himself from the wall and toward her.
Diana walked right on by and didn’t say anything.
Spotting Steve in the kitchen, she hopped up and planted herself on the counter beside him. She was going to have a lot of fun toying with Billy. Steve glanced to her quickly before doing a double take and exclaiming, “Shit, Miller! What did you do?” Eyeing her dark makeup and revealing choice of clothes before whispering, “Is this for goddamn Hargrove?”
“Betty says hi,” she responded slyly, placing her hand on his shoulder.
Steve glanced around the house, finally identifying a seething Billy, who took a long swig from the bottle in his hand. “He’s looking at you, you know.” Focusing on Diana. She simpered, and suddenly he understood. “Are we doing this? Is this like a game?”
He had turned toward her, and she let her fingers slip from his shoulder to his chest, laughing coquettishly. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, Harrington.”
Throwing his hands up and nodding, “I’m okay with it. I’m down. It’ll be fun.”
So they remained, having a perfectly normal conversation with a few extra laughs and brushes thrown in for show, when Diana noticed Martha Davies in the other room dancing with Tommy. Billy was nowhere to be found. She nodded toward Martha, “I thought she was coming with Billy?”
Steve lifted an eyebrow and frowned. “Not that I’ve seen. They haven’t been together at all tonight.”
She chewed on her lip, immediately regretting it when Steve pointed at the bright red lipstick on her teeth. “Not used to the makeup,” she shrugged with a laugh, wiping her teeth and sliding off the counter. “Well, this was fun.”
“You’re leaving?” he sized her up, a smirk falling over his face. “God, you’re cruel, Di. I wouldn’t want to be Billy Hargrove tonight.”
Diana smiled. “Good. I’ll tell Betty you say hi.” Planting a kiss on his cheek quickly before sauntering back toward the door and sending the same awestruck boy for her coat.
Steve caught up with her outside, pulling his jacket up his arms and popping the collar around his neck. “I’ll drive.”
Diana walked right on by and didn’t say anything.
Anger seeping through his chest, Billy watched her strut straight to Harrington, and the fire in his gut bubbled furiously. His imagination betrayed him, gaze fixated on the pitiful straps of fabric adorning her body, mind working inappropriately to erase them, conjuring up visions of her skin underneath. The room felt warmer, and the unforgiving leather of his pants definitely felt tighter.
When Harrington made some sort of snide eye contact with him, the image morphed into one of her and Steve, and he could have ripped the embedded light fixture next to him clean from the wall. His posture straightened as he leveled his gaze to Steve before angrily gulping down the rest of his beer and slamming it down on the nearest surface.
Her delicate hand landed on Steve’s chest, and all Billy could see was a red that equaled the color of her skirt. Reaching for another beer in the hand of some small kid a few feet away (he had barely made a dent in it, the weak fucker), Billy stormed to the back of the house, desperate for something to cool him down. The beer in his hand was cold enough.
Billy was tipsy before Diana showed, and downing two beers in ten minutes was the icing on top of the alcohol-reeking cake. He found half full cups of punch scattered along the yard and considered himself a good citizen for clearing them of any liquid. Anything to fuel that fire, that edge. Tommy found him kicking the shit out of an oak tree on the border of the lawn.
“Billy, man, what the hell?” Tommy tugged at his shoulders, pulling him further from the trunk. “You’re gonna break your fucking foot.”
Thinking that maybe punching Tommy would solve all his problems was the thing that snapped Billy out of it. Tommy was not the source of his anger, and deep down, he knew what would make him feel a whole lot better. “Where’s Harrington?” he growled, jerking out of Tommy’s grasp.
“Took Miller home, I think,” he chewed on his bottom lip, uncertain as to Billy’s current state of mind. He almost feared for himself.
Billy’s mind was elsewhere though, the thought of punching Harrington’s lights out snuffed by his leaving with Diana to do God knows what. There was a moment that he thought of going to Diana’s house himself and killing Steve on the spot. He pictured all the glorious ways he could do it, and that fire had never burned brighter.
Tommy watched him, backing off. Billy Hargrove was elated, and that was the scariest thing about him. He felt anger and turmoil and rage the same way he felt happiness and passion and arousal, so much so that sometimes he confused them. And as he turned away to walk back into the house with no preamble or afterthought, he felt absolutely and completely fucking turned on.
Finding the same runt who took Diana’s coat, he barked, “Get me a cigarette from my jacket.” Not a minute later, a lit cigarette was between his lips and he was taking a drag so deep that he almost forgot to exhale. Calm washing over his afire nerves, he let his muddled head hang back before climbing the stairs to the platform overlooking the living room. Resting his weight against the railing, he took another pull, images of a suffering Steve Harrington still flashing in front of his eyes.
Then it was Diana and all of her ignorant teasing and all of the things he could do to her that would render her as witless as he felt. He thought of her in her room, in her bed. He thought of her with all that makeup and then without. He thought of those goddamned clothes she wore and how they’d look shapeless on the floor.
The more he thought and the more he smoked, clarity settled over his brain. Still buzzed but more aware, he made the decision that there was absolutely nothing left at the party for him. Having his little buddy, Joey he learned, retrieve his jacket before sauntering to his car, he dropped the cigarette, grinding it into the ground with toe of his boot.
He felt aware enough to drive, but not for long. For the first time in a good while, he actually drove at a reasonable speed. Feeling out of control and out of touch with reality caused him to be more cautious. His house wasn’t far though, and when he got there, he saw a light on in the second story of Diana’s, knowing instantly that it had to be her room. He stood against his car door a moment too long staring at that same window before sneaking inside.
Billy needed something physical to help him feel in control of his actions, so once he had changed into shorts and a well-worn Zeppelin t-shirt, he gripped tight to his barbell, slipping outside to smoke and work out. His muscles fatigued and mind alert, there was a glorious burn that worked its way through his arms as he curled the barbell. Taking deep drags of his cigarette and staring solely at the window. The light was out now, and it was easier for him to place himself in there with her. Soft hair, warm skin, and no dickhead yuppie Steve Harrington. His rich boy car wasn’t in the driveway, so at least Billy could get that out of his head.
Through more curling, some lifting, and even a few shoulder presses, Billy must have spent over an hour outside in the freezing cold just contemplating his next move. He should be calculating, he should be strategic. Really, he should put her out of his brain and find someone else- someone who wouldn’t cause him to evaluate all the nice things he could do for Max or literally anyone else, someone who wasn’t such a damn challenge. But that wasn’t Billy, and the longer he stood looking at the dark still of her room, the more he wanted to disrupt it. To shake her up the way she fucked with him.
Dropping the barbell back onto the mount inside the house, he quietly jogged out to the street and around the front of Diana’s garage. He found footing on the sycamore next to the house, climbing up so that he could jump over to the slanted roof above the garage. Diana’s window had a large flower box below, and Billy was able to finagle himself over the wilted hydrangea and in front of the glass paneling.
Three reps of short raps on the window, and light filtered from the curtains fell over Billy’s face. He didn’t have much time to wonder if he was making a terrible decision before Diana pulled open the curtain, a look of shock and recognition settling over her face.
“What the hell, Billy?” she hissed with wide eyes as she slid open her window, letting him climb feet first into the peach walled room.
“Huh,” he grunted, looking around coolly, “didn’t expect you to be in here alone.” Picking up and eyeing a photo of her and her mom in front of the Alamo sitting on the white vanity against the wall.
Diana shot daggers with the look she gave him, placing her hands defiantly on her hips. “What does that mean?”
He turned to face her fully, finally taking the time to give her a once over. Knowing full well he had made a mistake when he saw that her legs were on display in just an oversized Hawkins Track t-shirt. He wondered briefly if it was hers before snarling, “Did he leave that here for you?”
“Who?” she huffed, becoming aware of her state of undress and pulling down at the hem of the shirt. “God, who are you to talk? Shouldn’t you be fucking with Martha right now? Instead of me?” her voice rising in pitch and volume the more she spoke.
He glowered at her, nostrils flaring and fingers balling into fists. Taking slow, deliberate steps toward her as he felt the fire in him rise, wisps of flame prickling through his chest. “You should know damn well I didn’t want her.”
Her face hardened as she took steps backward, away from him. Looming over her, she recognized the stance he was taking, narrowed lashes and tense jaw. She’d seen it before, the look of violence and aggression in her mother’s eyes when faced with Peggy Gillespie. Raising her chin to look him squarely in the eye, heart stilling when her back hit the wall. “You lay a finger on me, and you’re dead, Hargrove,” she breathed.
Billy didn’t know what to do with himself. His entire body aflame, he grappled with his emotions, not knowing which was possessing him. Was it fury? Was it dejection? Was it devotion? He couldn’t find words to fit how he felt, but he knew that if he could, it might sound something like an apology. So he did the one thing he knew he could communicate well enough to get his point across.
Gripping either side of her face, fingers slipping into her now smooth and tousled curls, he crashed his lips against hers, pinning her frame to the wall. Diana’s breath left her body when he whispered her name against her mouth, juxtaposed with the rough-hewn fingertips digging into her neck. She responded immediately, wrapping her arms around his torso to pull his body against hers, shifting her hips to elicit a heady groan.
He was almost primal in his reactions, all grasping hands and rolling hips, lips exploring the exposed skin of her neck. When he grazed his teeth against her collarbone, she exhaled in a laugh. Diana had been kissed, but nothing more than a few quick pecks outside of her house after one-off dates and one sloppy, wet make-out session with the boy’s track team Captain when she was a sophomore. Nothing like the kind of kissing she was experiencing with Billy. The kind that spread warmth throughout her stomach, all the way to the tips of her toes. The kind that made her t-shirt and underwear seem arbitrary. The kind that she never wanted to end.
As his lips returned to hers, he swiped his tongue over her bottom lip, asking for permission. Her lips parted in response and she slid her fingers under the black fabric of his t-shirt, feeling his muscles move and pull under her fingertips. Smooth skin and warm lips.
He shook his head, breaking away as he reached up to pull the shirt from his back and onto the bed beside them. Her eyes wild as she helped him, raking her fingers up his bare chest. Taking a sharp breath, he peered at her, trying to read her reaction. She reached up to trace the moon stud still in his ear. Lifting up on to her toes to place a kiss to the crook underneath his jaw, that was all the concession he needed.
Sliding his hand down her back to cup her ass, he helped her hitch her leg around his hip, fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake down her thigh. Turning her so that her back fell flat against the bed, his body moved desperately over hers. She moaned against his lips, and he nearly lost it. So overcome that he barely registered the flickering lights and call of “Diana!” from the lower floor.
Again, Sandra’s voice broke through the trend of battered breath, and this time, they pulled apart immediately. “Shit,” he panted, bolting to the window as Diana lifted her fingers to her mouth to stifle her giggle. Waiting until he was completely out of view to close the pane as he climbed down the sycamore. Morning light breaking through the horizon.
“Diana?” Sandra’s head peeked around the door frame as Di shuffled over to her mom.
Covering her mouth in a feigned yawn as she stretched her other arm up toward the ceiling, Diana grumbled, “Yes, Mom? Everything okay?”
Sandra cocked her head to the side, taking in her daughter’s disheveled hair and puffy face. “Is everything okay in here? I thought I heard something,” she said calmly.
Assuming a poker face with innocent eyes, Diana shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “All good.”
Sandra surveyed the room, focus stilling on the unfamiliar and rather large black t-shirt crumpled on Diana’s duvet. “Hm,” she scoffed, looking pointedly at her daughter. Rolling her lips between her teeth, Diana felt the blood rush to her cheeks. Sandra suppressed a grin, nodding knowingly, “It’s about time there was a boy.” Stepping toward the window, “The flower box, huh? Bold move. And Zeppelin?” Her fingers reaching toward the faded fabric.
Heart thumping in her chest, a mortified Diana scrambled, taking the shirt from her mother’s grasp and almost pleading, “I’m so sorry, Mom. I promise it won’t happen again, it was so stupid-“
Sandra shushed her daughter, the corner of her mouth quirking upward. “It’s okay, Diana. You’re a big girl. I’m not worried.”
Eyes darting toward the window, “You probably should be,” Diana responded, conscience-stricken.
“I’ll take my chances,” Sandra pacified, “and you should take yours. Go on and get him.”
Diana’s eyes widened at the freedom her mother was allowing her. She knew her mother wasn’t overbearing, but she briefly wondered if Sandra should be warning her rather than encouraging her. This was Billy Hargrove, for God’s sakes. Pausing and again looking out of the window before responding calmly, “Nah, I’m gonna make him sweat.”
“Good girl,” the look Sandra gave her daughter was full of pride and comfort in knowing she could take care of her-damn-self.
As Billy leapt from the lowest-hanging branch of the tree outside Diana’s house, it took him a moment to recognize the small girl that sometimes hung around his step-sister standing at the end of the driveway, a questioning look on her face. Big brown eyes and an unruly mess of curls atop her head. “Hey, weird girl…”
“Weird?” she asked curiously, eyeing him through narrow lashes.
He shook his head, a smile of disbelief crossing his features as he looked down and noticed the unmistakable impression Diana left behind. What the fuck was happening? Moving slowly to cross his hands in front of his body, he responded curtly. “Yeah, stalker. The hell are you doing outside the Miller house?”
“You climbed down a tree,” she pointed out.
“I had permission,” he gestured to the second floor of the house.
Cocking her head to the side, she glanced down at his torso. “No shirt.”
Exhaling out a laugh through remnants of heavy breath, he began walking toward her. She was fiery, and he respected that. Though why she was out at fucking daybreak was beyond him, he knew that she was in the care of the police chief, and if someone were to connect her to Billy, he might have questions to answer. “Fair point. Come on,” he paused, waiting for a name as he placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Jane.”
“Alright, Jane. I’ll give you a ride.” Together, they walked to Billy’s Camaro. He raised a finger for her to wait while he ran inside, coming back out wearing a soft gray t-shirt. As they climbed into the car, he asked, “Where are we going?”
She shook her head, and he blinked at her. Is this kid for real? “Un-fucking-believable,” he breathed. “Can you at least direct me?”
Nodding, she sat back cautiously as he turned the car around. He reached for the radio, turning up the volume to reveal the loud discordant chords of Metallica. Jane’s eyes widened as she shifted to face him. She’d heard the sounds once before, in Chicago, and as she remembered Kali, a smile crossed her face. “Bitchin’,” she remarked.
Billy glanced over at her, brow drawing together as the corner of his mouth lifted. “Yeah, kid. Bitchin’.”
Crimson and Clover- Read on Ao3
Chapter 5- Read on Ao3
February, 1985. Hawkins, Indiana
Emilio Estevez and Judd Nelson were the source of much derision Monday morning at Hawkins High School. The Breakfast Club seemed to be rousing a few burning questions, primarily which of the male leads was most attractive. Betty and Missy were discussing this subject emphatically on either side of Diana, who unsurprisingly had yet to see it.
“Andy, all the way,” Betty insisted. “Good guy, bad choices, great arms.” She wore a look that said ‘don’t test me on this, I’ll break you.’
Missy’s face read enthusiastic support as she said matter-of-factly, “Emilio, hands down. All these girls choosing Bender are off their rocker. Hell, Brian is better than Bender.”
Diana didn’t know who Brian was, but she felt bad for him because that sounded like an insult.
“You have to see it,” pressed Missy, jabbing Di in the arm with the corner of her textbook. Di grabbed her calculus workbook, hitting Missy over the head with it as Betty snorted a laugh.
“You do though. What about this week?” Betty added with a nod.
Di closed her locker door, rolling her lips between her teeth as she thought. “Come on,” pestered Missy, bouncing on her toes excitedly. “Surely you have one day this week free to see it! You can’t be working all the time.”
In truth, Diana had Thursday afternoon free, which would work perfectly considering she had yet to make any progress on her Bukowski book report due the same day. As she turned from her locker to face the hall, opening her mouth to answer, she saw him turn the corner. Same curls, same blue eyes (maybe even same white t-shirt? she couldn’t be sure) but much different setting. She hadn’t expected him to acknowledge her, or even look at her, so she definitely didn’t anticipate him locking his gaze onto hers and unabashedly winking as he passed. Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she inhaled sharply, her lips stretching into a shy smile.
She felt her friends’ stares before she saw them. Betty broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Diana. I must have hallucinated. Did Billy Hargrove just wink at you?”
“If you were imagining things, then I must have too, because that boy definitely just eye-fucked her.”
Di turned to her friend in shock, jaw dropping as she exclaimed “Missy!” in protest. Missy fell into a fit of giggles as she looked at Betty, and the two resumed their earlier conversation.
“She’d choose Bender.”
“Bender, most definitely.”
“He had his hand where?” Betty’s voice was incredulous, and her green eyes were wide in shock. Missy was holding in a grin and wringing her hands as if she had just heard the most salacious gossip rather than a story of a boy and girl talking innocently for an hour.
“Really?” Di asked, resigned. “That’s what we’re latching onto?”
An ecstatic laugh erupted out of Missy’s small frame. “But he touched your butt!”
Diana rolled her eyes, falling against the bathroom wall, fighting the smile playing on her lips.
Betty’s eyes somehow widened even further as she breathed, “And you liked it!”
She had nothing to say to that. “Okay, so there you go. You know the story. That’s it. Billy and I just talked.”
“Sounds like Billy wants to do more than just talk,” Missy smirked as she headed out of the bathroom.
Sending a pleading look toward Betty, Diana followed. “Can we not make a big deal out of this? It’s the furthest thing from a big deal.”
Betty patted her gently on the shoulder blade in a sign of solidarity. “You got it, Chief. Meanwhile, I have news about Steve.” She wore a slight smile, and Di was curious. She knew that Betty had harbored feelings for him since they were kids, but it had been an ongoing crush, so Di just assumed it would stay that way until they graduated. Neither she nor her friends were very assertive in their romantic endeavors, though she would root for Betty and Steve in an instant.
“So word is that Jonathan officially asked out Nancy,” Di’s eyebrows shot up, “and that Steve has been moping around about it. But Nancy apparently feels bad about all of it and has been trying to set him up with other girls. So Leigh Anne told me she’d drop my name to Nancy, but I wanted to get your opinion first.” Betty’s expression was innocent and reserved, and Diana felt bad for what she was going to say. She furrowed her brow to add at least the illusion of sympathy to her chiding words.
“So, what you’re saying is-“ she looked pointedly at her friend “-that you’re going to take a chance that Steve is going to want to date a girl who was recommended to him by someone who strung him along for a year and then dumped him while drunk at a Halloween party?”
“Oh.”
“Who ran off with another boy the next week?”
“Damn.”
“Do you really think that will work?”
Betty’s face fell. “It’s better than any shot I have now.”
They were almost at Diana’s chemistry class, so Diana paused outside the door and turned to her, offering her a loving pat on the arm.
“I’ve been friends with Steve for a long time. And I promise, that’s not a shot… you shouldn’t run the risk of having him constantly seeing you as a fill-in for her.”
Blinking and taking in a deep breath, Betty nodded, shooting a soft smile at her. “You’re right.”
Diana bit her lower lip, tilting her head to the side as the corner of her mouth quirked. She could see inside the classroom, just enough to know who had yet to enter. “Just stand here with me a minute, okay? Talk about whatever you want. Just, wait.”
Betty thought a moment, unsure of what she would even want to discuss. Bummed about Steve and wishing she would have made a move a long time ago, or at least asked Di for help. Not that Di hadn’t offered- the three of them used to be fairly close, in the sense that they sat near one another in eighth grade history- but Betty had been reluctant to even try. She thought about Diana, cool and collected and not at all concerned about boys. Except for one, it seemed. A mischievous look crept over Betty’s face as she questioned quietly, “Billy Hargrove?” Diana blushed immediately and began to flounder.
As if on cue, a voice sounded from behind the girls. “What about Billy Hargrove?” They turned around to see a tidy, pale blue sweater, floppy brown hair and arched eyebrows. Betty understood then why they waited. “He giving you trouble, Miller?” Steve asked, hushed and protective.
“Hey, Harrington,” Diana smiled. “No issues with Billy here.”
“Good, ‘cause you know,” Steve nodded, “I’d have to kill him if he was.” Glancing over at Betty and shooting her a smirk, “What about you, Parker? Anyone on your ass?”
Di stifled a grin as Betty retorted quickly. “Only you, as always, Steve.” Oh Betty, always quick on her feet.
“The only way I’d have it,” he smiled full on at Betty, and her cheeks went crimson. For all her self-confidence and bravado, Diana understood that Betty utilized that self-assured veneer to mask her insecurity, though smart and talented, and not to mention she was insanely pretty.
Betty turned to face Diana, “Well, this has been fun.” Then to Steve, “Good to see you, Steve. I gotta get to History.” Heading back the way the girls came from the bathroom, Betty cradled her books to her chest and smiled to herself.
“See ya, Parker!” Steve called after her, his eyes following her path down the hall. Diana repressed a smile. “I feel like I never talk to Betty anymore,” his attention back on Di. “How’s she doing? Still with Mark?”
Shaking her head, Diana’s eyes widened, “Not for like a year, Steve. Where have you been?” She moved towards the classroom door so that they were standing on opposite sides of the frame.
“So she’s single then?” he ignored her question.
Before she could respond with a witty (and helpful) remark, the dizzying scent of cigarette smoke hit her nose, and all she could see for a moment was denim as Billy Hargrove walked straight between them. This time, he didn’t acknowledge Diana.
Rolling his eyes, Steve pulled a face and followed Billy demonstratively into the classroom, taking his usual seat in the corner closest to the door- he liked a clean getaway. Billy had sat in his spot between the window and Tommy, and Diana sat where she always did in every classroom she inhabited. Fourth row from the door, two seats from the front. She didn’t know why she liked that placement most of all, but if she sat anywhere else, she couldn’t focus. Well, maybe she could, but she wouldn’t.
This set her diagonally from Tommy, who Billy noticed staring as soon as Miller took her seat. Not that she didn’t look fucking incredible in whatever jeans those were. He didn’t allow himself to think she might be putting in effort for his benefit.
Seeing her with Steve put Billy in a foul mood. And it didn’t help that two full days had passed and all he could think about was touching her, and in so many more ways than he did on Friday. Damn tease. What he ought to have done is find another bitch to entertain him, but she wasn’t just entertainment- she pervaded his every thought. And when he caught sight of her casually flipping her hair over her shoulder, he was drawn back to those moments where he could have run his fingers through those locks. The ghost of her hand in his brushed over his palm, and he knew there was no chance anyone was going to push Diana Miller from his brain. Annoyed and frustrated as hell, he rapped his blunt fingernails on the desk, leaning back so that he could survey the classroom. His gaze returning to Tommy on multiple occasions to see that his eyes hadn’t lingered from Diana.
As if he could feel Billy’s glare, Tommy turned to him, a smirk ripe on his lips. “Man, Miller’s really filling out those Calvin’s in all the right ways today.” Diana’s head shot around, her eyes connecting with Billy’s. He could practically feel her anger and humiliation, and his blood ran cold in his veins. A fire building in his gut that made him want to knock Tommy’s lights out.
He didn’t flinch, moving his stare again to Tommy. Surprisingly and completely against intuition, he kept his voice cool and low. “Too bad she’s too good for you to get your hands on, huh?” Tommy’s smirk wiped clean from his face, he turned front and stared down his desk as Billy looked once more at Diana, who had rolled her lips between her teeth, cheeks stretched in a grin. She felt something warm wash over her as he leered, protective and primal.
Blushing, she broke their eye contact and turned front, tapping her pencil against her desk lightly. Too good for you to get your hands on, the words rotated and ricocheted through her brain as she let out a breath that almost sounded like a giggle. Of all people, Billy Hargrove knew damn well how good you’d have to be to get hands on her.
Tuesday afternoon, Diana finally finished Hot Water Music, and though a very good book, boy, was she tired of Bukowski and his blunt pessimism. The only thing that really got her through it (besides a big book report that counted ten percent of her grade) was the fact that when she read it, she felt miles closer to Billy. She’d resigned herself to the fact that Billy Hargrove wasn’t going anywhere. Not out of Hawkins, and more importantly, not out of her mind. It didn’t help that she held a little piece of him in her grasp. Turning the book over in her hands, she let her fingers trace over the worn and flaking cracks in the binding. Pressing the cover to her lips as she inhaled through her nose, wondering if the scent was just the book or if it was him. Warm and musty, the faint hint of cigarette smoke in an afterthought. Di almost missed him.
When she opened the pages, the browned paper revealed straight and clean writing in the margins. Notes and thoughts on the passages, thoughts that were purely Billy. Diana didn’t think she could have understood the purpose of the collection of stories had it not been for his help. Funny enough, she could have thanked him for a lot recently, and the idea made her heart flutter.
Diana couldn’t exactly place how she felt about him. She knew the talk, the rumors. He was charming, but only on the exterior. He could get a girl home, but he wouldn’t stay. He knew the right things to say, but would only say them to get what he wanted. He knew the exact wrong things to say too, and he’d say those as often as he pleased. But she wondered how many people he had told about California, about how he’d get up in the morning and immediately drive to the beach, how he’d sit on the rocks overlooking the shoreline and read, how he’d take Max to the arcade and flirt with the girl who worked at the diner next door. Bits of information escaped him in pieces, but they were pieces that Diana thought only she might have seen.
Except that maybe he did know just what to say. Maybe he knew that the only way to get to Diana was if he let her get to him. Maybe he was playing her like a fiddle. Dropping the book to her lap and sighing at the ceiling, Diana scrunched up her face, thinking maybe she finally understood Bukowski and his jaded outlook. And with the pang that seized her heart and the aid of the notes Billy had left in his copy of the book, she began to write.
With the book report turned in, out of sight, out of mind, Diana reclined happily in her desk. She had agreed to meet Betty and Missy right after class to catch the last matinee of The Breakfast Club, so she was passing the time by braiding small sections of her hair and dragging her fingernails over the small plaits to unravel them. Listening to her teacher compare contemporary literary movements with mild interest, she spared a glance to Steve, who sat in the corner, eyes vacant and jaw gaping, his face plastered against his hand. She raised her palm to her lips to stifle her giggle.
Cheetahs had moved slower than Diana Miller as she busted out of the classroom when the bell rang, running to meet her friends where they exited their shared Spanish class. The middle school had a pep rally scheduled for the start of spring sports, so her free period was for once completely open. Betty smiled brightly as Diana approached, and Missy wrapped her arm around Di’s shoulders (though not completely successfully due to the height difference).
“Are you sure Little Miss Perfect is okay with skipping the end of the day?” she teased, giving Diana a good squeeze.
Rolling her eyes, she pushed Missy away by the top of her head, and all three girls laughed as Missy narrowly missed falling into Christopher Bentley, who dodged her expertly before shooting them a fierce glare.
Diana truly missed being able to spend time with her friends, despite having so much fun teaching and working with the eighth graders. Having laughed more on the ride to the theater in Betty’s brand-spankin’-new Ford Thunderbird- not quite as nice as Missy’s Mustang, but it was well suited for Betty- than she had since the new year, Di had the thought that nothing would get her spirits down. But then she rolled down the passenger window and watched with a bubbling of worry in her gut as the drab of the school she was skipping faded from view.
Billy sat by the window twirling the ring above his middle knuckle, looking outside aimlessly as his U.S. History teacher droned on about the Great Depression. A flash of red sped by, and he caught sight of the chestnut hair that had been dominating his thoughts. Startled, he checked his watch. What the hell is Miller up to leaving school early? Quietly, he stuffed his pencil in his pocket, hooking his arms through his jacket and pulling his feet off of the chair in front. With a nod and a quick “Bathroom” directed toward Mr. Edwards, he headed out of the classroom and straight to his car.
The Breakfast Club. The fucking Breakfast Club. He’d already seen it, needing something to occupy his time on Saturday while Maxine was at the arcade, so he contemplated waiting in the lobby of the theater. However, he wasn’t sure that he wanted Diana to know he was there. It would be pretty hard to explain his showing up in the same place at the same time, so he thought it best to just avoid both her and that conversation.
Sneaking to a seat in the back in the middle of the previews, he made sure he was able to see Diana clearly, specifically for her reactions. In fact, the entertainment for him was more in watching her than seeing the movie again. When the movie started, Di was moving freely, changing positions in her seat, throwing that hair around and running her fingers through it, scratching the back of her neck. Because she left before her free period, he made the assumption that she didn’t get to teach and had no physical release. I can help with that, he thought smoothly.
After the opening monologue, she settled down a little, and he was able to consistently observe her profile. He wasn’t close enough to be noticed, but he could aptly see the little quirks in the corner of her mouth and the way her eyes would wrinkle as she laughed. Mainly, he kept his focus trained on her lips. He had two hours- he might as well be thinking of something good.
Throughout the movie, he found himself trying to relate Diana to the characters. He couldn’t pin her down to just one because she had a little bit of each. Andrew’s demeanor, Claire’s fire, Allison’s isolation, and Brian’s drive. The only one who didn’t seem to apply to her was Bender, which was just fine. He had Bender in him enough for the both of them.
Bender’s reenactment of his home life began, and Billy shifted uncomfortably, tugging on his earring out of reflex. He hated this scene the first time he saw it, and there was no way in hell a second time would change that. His eyes hyper focused on Diana, he watched her clamp her jaw closed, the muscle pulsing slightly beneath her skin. Her eyes though, they were glossy, almost misted over. A stark contrast to the short girl next to her who rolled her eyes and shook her head. Billy wondered if she found out what plagued him at home if she would be so sympathetic. He’d never encountered that response before.
Diana was unbridled. Laughing freely, smiling often, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t seen. He could have watched her so unguarded all day, addicted to how fucking sexy it was that she wasn’t preoccupied by anyone else’s perception, especially his own. He felt almost like a voyeur, like he was seeing something totally taboo, even though all he did wrong was not pay to see a shitty movie.
The closing thoughts in the letter were wishful thinking in his opinion, but there was something about Diana’s undivided attention and energetic hope that surged through him. Even better and warmer and more all-consuming than the fire of aggression that lit up his stomach when he was angry. So overtaken by it that when the opening chords of the Simple Minds tune coincided with Bender’s fist pump, Billy’s eyes widened in shock, and he shot as discreetly as he could out of his seat and left the theater.
Di noticed the movement out of the corner of her eye, her head whipping around to catch a closing door to a fully lit lobby. The image of sun kissed curls and a nice ass in really tight jeans retreating from the auditorium. Billy.
February mornings in Hawkins were not typically conducive for running, but the weatherman advised getting as much time outside in the unusual warm before the last big cold front of the season, so Diana was tying her shoes in her foyer. Bracing herself for the icy chill of the wind to hit her face as she pulled the door open, she took off at a moderate pace to warm up. There had been no immediate ramifications for her rebellion Thursday afternoon, but she told Sandra about it anyway. Sandra was not the type to micromanage, and Diana was a little concerned that her mother had almost seemed proud.
Seven o’clock on Saturday morning, and Hawkins was still asleep. Di ran past the farms, favoring the edges of town, enjoying the quiet that the clear sky and barely risen sun brought to Hawkins. She was able to think plainly and uninterrupted while she observed the bare scenery and uninhabited streets. Feeling the strain in her shins, her muscles protested the cold, but she bore on, increasing her pace slightly to numb them.
She was plotting- Betty had been making more and more comments about Steve Harrington, and Diana was coming to the conclusion that the only way to proceed was to actually deal with the situation. She played out different scenarios in her head of them interacting. Should I have mentioned her crush when he was asking about it? Would he pursue her? Did that look mean anything? were all thoughts that rushed through her head.
A distinct image of Betty offering Steve a ride in her new car to the soundtrack of Rick Springfield’s “Love Somebody” was interrupted by the sign of life approaching Diana on the backroad behind the large houses in Loch Nora. Squinting, she tried to make out the running figure. All she could see from afar was a white t-shirt and heather gray sweatpants, but as they converged, she was able to identify the male as Billy Hargrove, headphones perched over his ears connecting to the Walkman in his hand. She contemplated stopping to talk to him but then remembered his appearance at the theater. Not having thought about it then, she wondered if maybe he was throwing himself in her path on purpose.
As they passed one another, she shot him a small wave and smile but made no move to halt, testing the waters. Unsurprised to see him alter his path, he looped around to catch up to her. He pulled the headphones down to hang around his neck. “The hell are you doing out this early?” he goaded, close enough to her to brush her arm.
She responded curtly, a smirk on her face. “Running.”
Breathing out a laugh, “Away from something?”
“Yes. You.” Diana picked up her pace, turning her head to make eye contact with him.
His whole face lit up, accepting the challenge. “Oh, Princess, you’re going to have to run a lot faster than that to get away from me.” Taking a deep breath and stretching his stride, he sprinted about twenty feet ahead of her, turning around when a comfortable distance away. He jogged backwards with a grin on his face as her eyes glanced downwards at the way his shirt was bouncing to reveal that tan skin and those rigid abs.
Oh hell no, Diana fumed when her eyes once again met the smug expression on his face, chewing on her cheeks as she honed in her concentration on the stop sign at the entrance to the neighborhood. She didn’t think, she just bolted, booking it to the sign and around the corner. “No problem!” she called back over her shoulder to a shocked Billy.
It didn’t take him long to catch up to a reasonable distance, but he never could quite keep on pace with her. And one of Diana’s strengths even in Track and Field was noticing when her opponent was tired. She sensed weakness and took advantage of it. Ten minutes of lulling Billy into a sense of false security and then bounding ahead led them straight to the school.
The gate to the football stadium was open, and she ducked inside to the track, grateful for the release of pressure on her joints. He followed her for a few laps, but as she passed the 50 yard line on her third lap, she noticed him stop, face aimed toward the ground heaving breaths with his hands on his knees. To complete a mile, she did five more quick laps around the track before joining him, laid out on his back in the grass.
She relaxed far enough away to do a few stretches, pulling her knees to her chest and rolling her hips from side to side to stretch her lower back. He was quiet, and she found his breathing a nice ambience to her coming down after the run. Glancing over at him, she saw that he was already watching her, eyes wide and jaw slightly ajar. Billy cleared his throat.
“Out of shape,” he acknowledged. “Probably some smoker’s lung too.” She laughed at his trying to cover his tracks with flimsy excuses- they both knew she could outrun him any day of the week.
“So, stalker,” she made no attempt to segue, “Did you enjoy the movie?”
He turned his face away, but she didn’t miss the smile. “I liked it better the second time. You seemed to have a good time.”
“The thought was nice. Ruffians banding together and all that jazz,” she grinned at him. “You can’t fit people in boxes like that though- we have a little bit of all of them in us.”
“Except for me- I’m Bender all the way,” he scoffed without thinking, immediately regretting his admission.
She rolled her eyes, looking back up to the powder blue sky. “It’s the long hair, isn’t it?”
His lips stretched into a grin as he turned to observe her profile, picking at a long blade of grass beneath his fingers. “Something like that.” Pulling the grass from its roots, he lifted his arm to throw the blades in her face.
She moved too slowly to block it, ending up with grass stuck between her lips, but her reflexes did allow for her to grab his wrist in her hand. Eyes wide, he tensed his fist, lifting his other arm to grab her hand defensively before relaxing under her hold. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, running her fingers down his forearm to a patch of glossy white skin. She wiped her mouth with her other arm to get rid of the grass before questioning quietly, “What’s this?”
Billy shrugged, breathing out unevenly, “Been there forever.” Circling the tip of her middle finger over the scar, she looked up to lock her eyes with his. Her hand stilled, palm resting on his forearm, and the look on his face could have burned a hole straight through her.
The wind was blowing, and though the temperatures were still low, Diana’s body heat was rising. She pulled away, breaking their connection to look up, running her hands over her face. Until now, Billy had been the one to initiate: coming to the gym, standing up for her, following her to the theater. It was about time she reciprocated.
Reaching up to her ear, she pulled out the small gold stud in the shape of the moon that her father had given her when she got her ears pierced at six years old, reattaching the back to the peg. Dropping it into his grasp and closing his fingers over it, she kept her hand on his and looked back at him. He registered the reference with a small but genuine smile that crossed his face slowly.
Bender, most definitely.
The cold front hit Hawkins hard. Diana was staring wistfully out of the window in her English class, dreading her walk across campus to the middle school. Rain had frozen and little pellets of hail were cracking against the glass. Small flakes fell to the ground as well, looking like a wintry mix from hell. She wasn’t sure that it was worth it, tapping her pen to her head in hopes that she might jab too hard and save herself from having to go outside. When the bell rang, she trudged through the hallway slowly, but as she walked outside, she sprinted to the nearest door of the middle school, banging against it so that someone would let her in. Mrs. Dawson peeked her head around her door angrily and shot Di a look as cold as the outside when she finally let her in.
“Class is in session, Ms. Miller,” she harped, and a singular piece of gray hair fell out of place of her tightly wound bun as she closed her door sharply. Diana laughed to herself at the irony. She jogged to the gym to warm up and was pleased when she walked onto the hardwood and felt no noticeable drop in temperature. It was her last full week with these kids before they began their new rotation, and she wanted to enjoy it.
Dustin was in rare form, running up to Diana and asking questions about the historic roots of soccer and ‘how exactly would I calculate the trajectory of the ball’. She found herself shrugging and ruffling his hair to shut him up on more than one occasion, to which he would just smile his unequivocal beacon of a smile, squint his eyes and say “okay,” before walking away. Later in class, Diana caught him and Christine together having an in depth discussion about soccer-related urban legends. How they had time to do that while playing dodgeball, she had no clue.
After class, Max ran up to Di, “Did you see? I made the team!” Throwing her arms around Diana’s neck in a hug, she thanked her profusely for her help. Diana beamed in excitement, asking questions about the start of practices and the game schedule. The students put the balls away at the end of class, so Di had very little cleanup, and she accompanied Max to the door once she wrapped up in her coat and scarf. Opening the floodgates, they both shivered simultaneously, looking out at the gray and white carnage of snow and water. “You aren’t walking home in this, are you?” Max pressed, pursing her lips when Diana shrugged. “Ride with us. Billy won’t say no.”
They walked toward the barely visible Camero (which Di could only pinpoint because of the Metallica blasting from within), and as they approached, Steve’s BMW pulled up around the drive. Billy rolled down his window to match Steve.
“Di, do you need a ride home?” Steve called out with Dustin in the passenger seat nodding his head emphatically.
Diana looked between Steve and Billy, locking her eyes on the latter and waiting for a reaction. His look was searing, and when none came, she looked back at Steve thoughtfully- no decision had to be made, it was no question. “That’s okay, Steve. Billy’s house is closer to mine. Thank you!” She quickly jogged over to the passenger side of the Camero, slamming the door quickly behind her.
She didn’t miss Steve’s boisterous, “Hargrove, drive slowly, will ya? I want my girls home safe!” before rolling up his window and speeding away.
Billy’s knuckles white against the steering wheel, he rolled up his own windows and cranked up the heat in the car, reversing quickly out of his spot.
“So,” he began, glancing at Di, an agitated edge to his voice, “you going to the party next week?”
Scrunching up her face, she responded in distaste, “What party?”
He slammed his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the music that might well have been shaking the car. “Oh, at the rich girl’s house? Donna Lewis?” Diana raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips, watching him with bated breath. “I figured you’d be going with Harrington since you’re his girl.”
“I am not anyone’s girl,” she replied quickly, furrowing her brow. Unsure why he was being so petulant, she thought she had made it clear with giving him the earring that he and only he had her attention. “Are you going?”
“Thought about it,” he shrugged. “I thought I might take someone.” Her eyes brightened, but she didn’t respond, waiting patiently for him to get it out himself. She nodded as if to egg him on, silently asking who he would take. “Maybe Martha Davies is free,” he threw out, his voice apathetic and unfeeling.
Diana’s thumping heart seized in her chest, a fury rising up through her gut. She was confused and angry, and she didn’t want to blurt something she would regret. So jutting out her lower jaw with a sharp “okay,” she crossed her arms and stared out the passenger window. She didn’t say anything else the rest of the drive.
When he pulled into her driveway, she whispered a quick goodbye and thank you to Max before hurrying out of the car and into her house. Max stared at Billy angrily. “Why did you do that?” she demanded.
He glanced at her through the rearview mirror, but he kept his mouth clamped closed. Billy didn’t have to explain himself to anyone. That Harrington pissed him off, and now here was Max rushing to Diana’s defense for not speaking up. He was just baiting her, testing the waters. Somehow in the process, he became the villain.
“Why did you let Steve get a rise out of you?” Again, nothing. As he parked the car on the street, she climbed out of the car and glared at him through the door. “So not only are you an asshole, Billy, but you’re also an idiot.” Slamming the door closed, Max stormed up the steps while Billy’s face contorted as he smashed his hands against his dashboard. Fuck.
Hawkins didn’t have much by way of food industry. There were only about seven restaurants and one of those was a lemonade stand run by the Baker girls. Benny’s Burgers was another, but the establishment had to close temporarily due to an unfortunate incident that led to Benny’s death two years ago. The food hadn’t been too good since. There was one bar downtown called Hideaway, and an ice cream parlor sat smack dab in the middle of the square. Not many options were available for a quick dine-out. What Hawkins did have though was a Domino’s Pizza, and it just so happened that Sandra and Di were good friends with the owner, Joe.
Susan and Neil had left money for Max’s dinner, so Diana called into Domino’s for a delivery. Gorging themselves on a greasy pepperoni pizza with bell peppers and black olives (for health’s sake, Diana said) and two Cokes while watching Webster. Joe had delivered the pizza personally to make sure that Di’s food got there straight out of the oven, but having stopped by, they ended up talking for another half hour, so the pizza was only moderately warm by the time the girls sat down to eat. Max didn’t mind though- she was having more fun hanging out with Di than she had in a long time. Not that she didn’t enjoy being a part of the party. The party was fun in a nerdy, adrenaline inducing, feel-like-you-might-die-at-any-second kind of way. Being around Diana was different. In a never-had-a-big-sister-but-this-must-be-what-it-feels-like kind of way.
Diana was sitting on Billy’s bench, legs crossed with her elbows resting on her shins. Max was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chin and arms wrapped around her legs, staring at the television as Diana french-braided her long, red hair into two even plaits on the sides of her head. They were quiet, and Diana was concentrating as Max watched The Twilight Zone intently. When the programming shifted to commercials, Diana asked a question that she had been curious about since working at the middle school.
“So, you and Lucas?” she mentioned casually, unable to see Max pull her lips between her teeth in a repressed grin. She could, however, feel Max nod ever so slightly, the light pull of hair between her fingers. Smirking as she tugged on the braid she had already tied, she felt Max let out a laugh. “Why don’t I see you with him outside of school?” she wondered.
The blood drained from Max’s face, her lips drifting into a frown as she let her forehead rest against her knees. “Billy doesn’t like it,” she admitted, shrugging. “And I don’t like to upset Billy.” And she really didn’t. Not just because Billy could be a grade A dickhead (which he definitely could, and Max hated thinking about it), but Billy had been through more than he would ever let on. Deep down, Billy was still the kid that loved swimming and laying out, reading a book. But he hadn’t swum since the move, and Max knew his books never left his room. A sense of guilt crept through her gut, twisting her insides so that she felt she might have to puke. Maybe that’s why she was bringing Diana into their lives- she had to compensate somehow.
Di pursed her lips thoughtfully, knowing that her time to pry was nearing its end, but her curiosity got the best of her. “Why do you care if Billy doesn’t like it?” her question came right as she was tying Max’s other braid. Wide, blue eyes met her own, and she knew she had made a mistake in asking the question. Max’s face had blanched and water lined her lower lids.
But her voice was strong. “Billy thinks he is protecting me. But he’s just an asshole,” she turned back to the television just as the commercials ended, and she reclined, letting the back of her neck rest against Diana’s shins. Diana’s fingers reached out, running over the ginger plaits affectionately as she let the subject rest.
The Hargrove house was not built for soccer drills. If it weren’t so cold out, Di would suggest doing them outside, but instead they were relegated to the den. Doing quick feet and dodging drills in the confined space meant that both of them were constantly on the lookout to save any fragile decor that looked as if it might fall. Max had to push the lamp further back on the mantle twice, and Diana became acclimated with a picture of a six or seven year old Max and her mother that was set on a shelf next to the kitchen and had shifted precariously closer to the ledge over time. At around 9:15, Max announced she was exhausted and was going to get ready for bed. With a quick hug and a thank you, she made her way to the back of the house, and Di could hear the water of the shower begin to run.
Diana took the opportunity to clean up, throwing away the pizza box, Coke cans, and even the beer can next to the tv. You’re welcome, Billy. Pushing all pictures and moveable objects back to what she remembered were their original positions and shutting off the A-side album by The Clash she had running during their training session. Skimming her fingertips over the London Calling cover and pulling out the D-side, she fastened it onto the turntable and dropped the needle. Adding an extra five pounds to each side of the barbell before grabbing some cleaning spray and wiping down the bench. She wasn’t going to waste the chance to work out on private equipment. She had the thought that maybe she could convince Sandra in purchasing a bench for their home.
Laying her back flat on the bench and rounding out the small of her back, she lifted the bar easily from the mount, doing a couple of presses to test it out. She checked to see if the bench was adjustable (it wasn’t) before laying back and doing a few more reps of ten. A twenty pound dumbbell sat against the tv stand, so when she finished benching, she took off the weights she added, stacking them gently in their original positions, and grabbed the dumbbell. Doing a few tricep lifts behind her head before placing it back. Once more, she wiped down all the equipment she used with great care, trying not to be envious of it. It wasn’t the best quality equipment, but she could tell from the state of the cushion all the way to the chrome finish of the legs and bar that Billy treated it preciously. ‘He doesn’t let anyone else touch it,’ Max had said. Whoops, Diana thought with no trace of remorse, returning the London Calling album to the crate of vinyls in the corner, “Train in Vain” still echoing in her ears.
Falling back on the couch, Diana reached for the book she had laid out on the end table when she arrived. She was behind on her schoolwork and made a pact with herself that she would use the weekend to catch up, and she had a book report due Thursday in American Literature. The assignment was to choose a book that had relevance to a modern American literary movement, so she had chosen the Beat Generation and Hot Water Music by Charles Bukowski. It wasn’t a boring book, but Di had been so sleep-deprived that every time she sat down to read it, she would almost concurrently doze off, the pages of the book slipping from her fingers. Because of this phenomenon, she nearly always lost her place and would have to start all over. Rinse and repeat. Diana thought she must have read the first two pages of that book ten times already, but she just couldn’t keep track of any of it. However, sitting on the Hargrove couch with Max three doors down, the pizza and Coke still giving her a bit of a sugar high combined with the adrenaline of working out, Diana was able to read the first three short stories without pause. Somewhere in the middle of “The Great Poet”, her eyelids grew heavy and the weight of the book hit her thighs, her head falling into her hand with her elbow propped on the arm of the couch.
The sound of the front door slamming shut jarred her, Diana jolting awake when she realized where she was. “Max! Shit!” she yelped, jumping to her feet. Piercing blue irises stared at her, pink-tinted lips turned up in a smirk as Billy pulled off his jacket, throwing it over the bench. His eyes wandered over the corner, fingers stopping to rest on the ten pound end that sat crooked on the bar from Diana’s removal of the other weights. She could have kicked herself, and her fingertips ran over her lips nervously as his gaze shifted back to her. “I hope you at least wiped it off after you used it,” his voice low, but not menacing.
Di swallowed, blinking slowly to compose herself, heart still pounding from being awoken so abruptly. “Before too,” her comment was a little sassy for someone who had just messed with someone else’s property, and Billy let out a chuckle as he adjusted the weight. Diana was trying very hard not to think about if his lips were redder than when he left or if there were fewer fastened buttons on his shirt when she noticed the time. 9:45. “Date didn’t go well, huh?” She was still standing awkwardly, the backs of her knees lined up with the couch cushions. Billy sauntered over next to her, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt and falling back onto the couch.
He took out another cigarette and spoke as he lit it. “Fine enough,” relaxing his neck over the top of the couch cushion and reaching his arm out so that it lay over top the couch, behind Diana.
She sat, straight as a rod to avoid any contact with him. “You’re home early,” she shrugged.
“Kathy Simpson… not as good of company as everyone makes her out to be,” he took a long pull from the cigarette, and Diana watched him intently. Curiously.
Kathy Simpson was exactly the type of company she expected Billy to take interest in. Pretty, bouncy blonde hair that framed delicate and painted features. Dry and funny, a mean sense of humor that worked at the expense of others. Short skirts and tight pants. Big house and rich parents. Kathy ran the gamut of the qualities of girls that could get away with murder. And not that Diana took much stock in it, but word around Hawkins High School was that Kathy was some kind of exceptional lay. Yet here was Billy, sitting and smoking on his couch with Diana Miller. Weird, virginal, independent, scandalous broken home Diana Miller. It didn’t make much sense.
She eyed the ashes growing at the end of the cigarette. “You know they say those things’ll kill you.”
Reaching to pull the cigarette out of his mouth, Billy’s eyes flickered to her. His hand splaying out toward her, the butt of the cig held between his middle and ring fingers in an offering. Furrowing her brow, she looked at him skeptically a moment too long before relenting and taking it from him. She and Betty had snuck a cigarette or two behind the football stadium at school, so she wasn’t unfamiliar with the feeling of smoking. But that didn’t stop her from a reflexive cough as she took a drag. Billy chuckled. He reached into his pocket to pull another one from the package, lighting it and placing it between his lips. “So you took off the ends? Benched what? Sixty pounds?”
Diana coughed, but not because of the cigarette. “Uh, no, actually,” her cheeks flushed as a smirk crept over her face, “I added ten.” Billy’s eyebrows shot up, his lips pursing as he gave a slight nod. He didn’t have anything to say to that, to the image of this girl laid out on his bench, those legs in those devilish leggings straddling either side, handling what must have been over half of her own body weight. He had to be careful- he might have been tired, but the night had left him remarkably unsatisfied, and he could feel that fire building in the pit of his stomach. In the interest of being polite, he kept his mouth shut.
A beat of silence passed, Diana’s gaze wandering over the room, settling on the picture of Billy and Max on the beach. “So,” she started, reclining back onto the couch cushion, her hair falling over his arm, and she felt his head shift on the couch to look at her. “You surf?”
Her eyes met a pair that had set in a hard stare; the look he was sending went straight through her. “How do you know that?” his voice had dropped half an octave.
Diana nodded toward the photograph. “You look happy. You both do.”
A soft sigh left his lungs as he remembered that day. Max’s father had taken the two of them down to Laguna Beach. Billy didn’t really surf, but James Mayfield did, and to connect with both of them, he rented boards for Max and Billy to take a lesson. He thought on Max laughing as he lost his balance off his board. He remembered the way he retaliated by picking her up over his shoulder and throwing her back into the water, splashing the salt water in her face as she resurfaced. Back when times were less complicated and less littered with Billy’s mistakes. That fire in his belly ran cold, replaced by something else. Something he didn’t like thinking about.
“It’s easy to miss California,” Diana said simply, twisting her lips to the side and looking down at her lap, twirling the cigarette between her fingers.
Billy looked at her startlingly. Those faded memories warping and molding into a different image. “You’ve been?” She nodded, and the image intensified. Diana, her olive skin and long brown waves, running along the shoreline in a barely-there swimsuit. Eyes focused, hair billowing, she looked something out of a wet dream, and Billy shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Blinking hard to eradicate the pretty picture from his brain, trying instead to focus on the Diana that was actually before him. Same chestnut hair strewn over his arm, same solid blue and focused eyes, same olive skin peeking from the drooping neckline that was making its way down her shoulder. Still a pretty picture. So pretty in fact that he hadn’t realized she was talking.
“-was beautiful. We traveled up the coast, just the two of us. I don’t think there’s been anywhere I loved more than Manhattan Beach. There was this little diner we went to in Bel Air too that had the best waffles you could imagine. And the Mexican food around there? Oh, the beaches, my mom and I would run down the shoreline and when we were done, walk along the tide with our shoes and socks in our hands. We hiked too- I can understand why people want to spend time outside when I think about California. It’s so gray and cold all the time here, or it’s gray and muggy. But there it’s all clear and blue and green, and-“ She saw Billy staring at her, and then she realized how stupid she must have sounded. He grew up there, he knew, and here she was rambling on to this person who obviously missed it about all the reasons it was great. Her voice lowered, and she broke eye contact with him. “-And I’m sorry, I could talk about it all day.”
“Go ahead,” he said nonchalantly, drawing a little circle with the hand holding the cigarette. The way he let the cigarette rest between his lips and reached up to scratch the back of his neck projected disinterest to Di, who slumped toward the arm of the sofa, lips drawn in tight. But when Billy nudged the back of her head with his wrist, she released a laugh and relaxed enough to continue.
“There was this one time- we were attending some sort of weird family beach party, and there was a very different kind of party happening at the neighboring beach. I was like eleven, and my mom was in the middle of a conversation with some people, and I liked the music at the other party more. So I snuck away, running and hiding behind peoples’ surfboards and lounge chairs. And there was this really pretty pink drink sitting there that looked like it hadn’t been touched, and I really wanted to try it. I knew when I tasted it that it was not just a pretty drink, and when I got back to my mom, she couldn’t understand why I was so much chattier than I had been earlier. But I knew why.” Diana wore a nostalgic smile, running through her memories as a mischievous kid. She thought about the pranks she and her mom had pulled, sneaking onto rides at Disneyland when Di didn’t meet the height limit, eating ice cream for breakfast just because they felt like it. Sandra Miller didn’t always make the best decisions, but she had a heart of gold and loved her daughter more than she could ever say.
“Huh,” Billy grunted, raising his eyebrows, “so Princess has got a bit of an edge to her.”
Diana’s face felt hot as she realized that he was making fun of her. Pushing up to her feet and taking a deep breath to cool boiling blood, she shot a hard glare back at him. “If you didn’t want me to talk, you shouldn’t have said anything. I am not anyone’s Princess.” When she turned to make a clean break toward the front door, warm fingers wrapped around her wrist and tugged her back.
Looking up at her with heavy-lidded eyes, Billy reached down toward her book that had fallen on the floor. “I’m tired of waiting to die. Let’s go out,” he spoke intently with a voice of velvet, refusing to break eye contact.
Her brow crumpled, and she almost lost her breath, “What?”
Billy bit his lip in a smirk as he looked toward the book, “Hot Water Music. That quote’s from the first paragraph. A hell of a way to open up a story.”
Despite the way the plea sounded coming from his lips, Diana shook off her surprise quickly, responding in a sharp tone. “So what are you now? Some sort of closet nerd?” The words ‘Let’s go out’ still reverberating in her brain. She’d been even more shocked that her initial inclination had been to say yes.
Pulling gently at her wrist as an invitation to sit down again (to which she hesitated, eyes on the door contemplating, before accepting), Billy chuckled with a slight nod. Letting go of her wrist and rubbing the same hand over his thigh. “Yeah. Something like that. The Beats. Good choice for the American Lit project.” Steel blue met cerulean, and Diana was taken aback by his eyelashes. Thick and dark, the perfect frame for the color of the ocean she found in his stupid almond eyes. She could see him there then, an extension of the picture of him and Max, except without the thirteen year old. Surfing and laughing with that smile-broken face he wore in the photograph. Swimming and wading and playing volleyball. Laying out on the sand reading Hot Water Music. She wasn’t sure why the image of Billy Hargrove shirtless with a book on the beach was affecting her the way it was, but she knew she was blushing again. Snapping out of her daze and back into their unbroken eye contact. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say by the way his teeth ran over his lower lip and the fluttering of his eyelashes, he might have been embarrassed. Exposed. When he spoke again, he spoke quietly. “But if you tell anyone I said that, you’re dead, Miller.” The corner of his lip quirking up as he snuffed out his cigarette on a nearby ashtray.
Time passed like lightning and molasses all at once. It was strange, really, for Diana to get caught up in a boy’s voice and story. She spent so much of her life fighting the desire to be around men because of her father’s actions, but here comes Billy Hargrove with his wicked bright smile and his leather jacket to draw her eye. And Billy, he was convinced that everything in Hawkins had to be shit. A small hick town in Indiana, for Christ’s sake. What could living in this place possibly hold for him besides a mild case of claustrophobia and pollen allergies? But there was Diana Miller in all her snarky glory and those goddamned leggings, and without warning, he was putty in her fidgeting hands. Turned and pulled and stretched, he felt uncertain and manipulated and almost violated because of this girl, and he wasn’t sure why. He just really wanted to knock back a beer. Or a shot of tequila.
California, Hawkins, college, good food, books, workout techniques, sports, nothing too far under the surface- all things the pair of teenagers talked about in the hour they spent on the couch. Diana’s feet tucked up underneath her body, turned toward the boy next to her. Billy’s posture relaxed into the crook of the sofa, arm still stretched along the back (he had to stop himself more than once from toying with the strands of hair that she would flip from her shoulder). Somehow they were back on California, and Di was pushing the subject.
“So what do you miss?” blue eyes eager and prodding.
He felt a jab in his gut even thinking about it. “A lot,” he threw back carelessly, not an accurate depiction of how he truly felt. Not even a little bit.
An assured nod in response, “You must have had to leave behind so much.” Billy tried not to stare as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “Friends, family… a girl.” The last part she said blushing. Thunder in her chest and tightness in her stomach driven by the look he gave her. Not a glare, not any sort of tender, just searching.
Slowly, he gave a slight nod, “There were girls.” Still prying for some kind of signal from her. Billy Hargrove never actively sought to learn how a girl felt about him- he never had to before Diana. Her heart turned a backflip painfully, like it got stuck in the wrong position. Breath catching in her throat as she finally looked away from him, staring at a snagged stitch on her sweater. Alpha instinct took over. “And women too.” A wink.
Diana rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything.
It was a defense mechanism, and Billy knew it. Both of them guarding themselves- from what, neither could or would say. Actually, Billy might have said, were it a different time, a different setting. He took a deep breath, almost wanting to take back his flippant comment. “But they are there,” he backtracked, “and I am… I’m here.”
Diana lifted her chin then, making eye contact with him once more, unsure if she was imagining the cloud of the unspoken two words that hung in the air between the two of them. Unfortunately, she didn’t have too much time to speculate, as the sound of a car from the vacant street stirred both of them.
Glancing at his watch, Billy’s jaw set, lips pressed in a hard line. “Shit,” he blinked slowly. 11:00. They’d messed up because Neil was about to walk through that door. He’d messed up because he’d lost track of time. She’d messed up because she got caught up in Billy Hargrove in the first place.
Urgently, he grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet and toward the back of the house through at least three different rooms. In spite of his racing heart (whether because of his father’s arrival or the soft skin of Diana Miller’s palm, he wasn’t sure), his composure was cool.
On the other hand, she was freaking out a little bit. “Where are we going? I’m really sorry- I should have remembered. Do I need to talk to them?” Her questions stopped when he hissed a quick shush at her as the sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the house. They’d check on Max first, they always did. He had about four minutes of security to get Diana out. A carefully practiced routine, he silently shut the door of his room.
Fingers ripping at the buttons on his shirt, Di was staring at him, mouth agape. “Why are you undressing?” she whispered, alarmed.
“Date clothes,” he breathed. “Open the window.”
For the first time, Diana realized she was in Billy’s room. Though not at all appropriate, her eyes circled the space, taking stock of the few posters, the books, the stereo, the bed.
“Window,” his whisper sharp. Hurrying over, she tore at the locks, lifting the glass carefully. When she looked back at him, he was throwing his shirt into his closet. Tan skin catching her eye. A small birthmark on the back of his left shoulder. Muscles contracting as the white fabric of a t-shirt fell over her view. His eyes met hers, and as her cheeks flushed, his stretched into a smirk.
When she remembered, her face paled, eyes wide. “My book.” His gaze flashed to his makeshift bookcase, and he threw himself across the room, pulling his own copy of Hot Water Music from the stack and tossing it to her.
“You need to go. They’ll think it’s mine.”
Diana was already halfway out of the frame when strong hands held her hips, one moving below, planting itself on her rear end for support as she stretched her leg to the small lumber rack below the other window only a foot away. Hopping out quietly as music began to play from the stereo, and the door to Billy’s room opened. As discreetly as she could, Di approached the gate, and when she was out of view, ran back to her house without looking back.
Billy’s door opened to reveal his father, staring at him skeptically. Military rigid haircut, neatly maintained mustache, a stark contrast to Billy. In his haste, Billy hadn’t closed the window, but to cover for it, he was laid back on his bed, fanning himself with a newspaper as he stared at the pages of his history textbook with disinterest. His face unreadable, set in hard angles, Neil tossed Diana’s book and Billy’s leather jacket over Billy’s stomach.
“Don’t leave your shit out, boy,” his voice was ice, and it took every ounce of Billy’s self control to not retort. Not tonight.
Instead, he looked up, nodded harshly, and released a quiet but sure “Yessir.”
When Neil closed the door to Billy’s room following a nod that resembled that of his son’s, Billy took a deep breath to steady his heartbeat. Lifting up to close the window, he briefly imagined Di crawling through the space effortlessly. In his defense, she was climbing over the stereo, which anyone would claim as precious cargo. But his stereo was all he had, and all he really wanted to do was protect the machinery. That’s why he helped lift her over it, of course. That’s why he made contact with those legs. That’s why his hand found its way to her ass.
But that’s not why the feeling of her ass in his hand lingered. And it’s not at all why Billy was kept awake by thoughts of Diana Miller and her fucking leggings.
Case Number: #006
Location: Hawkins, Indiana
File reopened 10/1985
Observations resumed upon return to Hawkins as advised.
- Presenting signs of anticipated behavior.
- Agitation and fixation when under stress
Conclusion
Does not appear to be cognizant of latent energy spikes
Advising for increased observation while at breech point
Since having been adopted by Chief of Police, Jim Hopper, Jane became more acclimated to routine and structure. She actually felt comfortable enough to begin school in the second semester, as long as she worked with a tutor twice a week to make up for lost time. Learning was something she really enjoyed, and it felt good to her knowing that the more she studied, the more she’d be able to communicate and relate to the people around her. Mike would even help her study two more times per week, which she considered pretty close to tutoring. He seemed to understand how to phrase things in ways she would understand. She was a quick learner though, and in a few short weeks, she was reading and writing basic sentences, doing simple arithmetic, and even starting to recall a few dates from her history lessons.
It felt like after years of having nothing to hold on to, Jane had a family in Jim, her mom, and her aunt (who she and Hopper visited every weekend), she had a consistent schedule in school, and she had a small group of friends who had only just stopped accidentally calling her “El”. She preferred Jane- it connected her to an identity she had missed. Jane even worked her way to speaking terms with Max, who no longer paid much attention to Mike outside of the party. And all of this was happening under the guise of Hopper adopting a feral kid from Missouri. No one seemed to question what went on in Missouri.
Jane had been leaving her Thursday tutoring session after school when she saw it. Waving goodbye to Jeannie, she threw her backpack over her shoulder and headed toward the gym to meet Mike behind the school. As she made her way up the short flight of stairs, to her right was the wall she broke through nearly a year and a half before. She stopped to look at the repainted paw print when something in her stilled. The fluorescent lighting above flickering on and off. Her eyes shot up, and she took a few deep breaths to steady herself before adjusting the strap of her backpack on her shoulder. When the high schooler that helped out in the gym passed her with a quizzical look on her face, Jane shook her head, shot her a quick smile, and continued walking.
Billy could not stop thinking about Diana Miller. Since their all-too-brief encounter in front of his house, he had been thinking about her everywhere he went. Even at times he probably shouldn’t have been. Billy never entered a room without scanning to find the strongest person already standing in it. Now, he couldn’t help himself from scanning every room he entered for Diana. Di, they called her. He hadn’t gleaned too much from passing conversations with people about the girl, which was unfortunate because he had to be careful not to seem too interested… even though he was.
He knew she lived with her mom, and he would frequently see her outside of the middle school. One day, Max had revealed to him that she was a teaching assistant for the gym coach, and he began to notice her name on track and swimming trophies in the showcases outside of the high school gym. He also knew from classes that she was a good student who seemed to stay out of trouble. Though he saw her talking to nearly everyone in the school, he very rarely actually heard her say anything. She stood tall and proud though, which communicated enough, and he liked that she didn’t seem scared of him.
Most people were at the very least intimidated by Billy Hargrove, and he was not at all shy of the fact that he was the shiny new toy at Hawkins High School. Really, he milked it. And most people paid attention. The girls were drawn to his tight-fitting jeans like moth to a flame- that’s why he wore them, after all- and the boys needed an Alpha. Billy always could detect a leadership vacuum. Hell, he lived in one. However, with her volatile temperament toward him, he had something to contend with in Diana Miller, and he craved it.
Despite craving the challenge she posed, he also hated it. Since leaving California, he felt that he had nothing to look forward to. Hawkins was undoubtably boring- even all the residents said that “nothing happens in this town”. Sitting on the ground in Los Angeles was more interesting than anything that was available to do in Hawkins. So Billy was annoyed to his limits that there was something that actually made him like the shit town a little bit more. Diana Miller was that something.
At points, he had the inkling that Max might have been catching on. She was mentioning Di more in their car rides home from school, and he even heard her talking to Susan about how she had heard that the Miller girl was an excellent babysitter, and that Max really wanted Diana’s advice on her form in soccer. Which is why when Billy and Max were stuck behind Diana riding her bike on the road on their way to school one morning, Billy made a show about edging up on her and revving his engine. Upon hearing the car behind her, Di turned her head, saw Billy, and groaned. She was not about to let him act like a child, so she immediately slowed her pedaling, shifting toward the center of the lane. Knowing full well that there were cars coming the opposite way and that he would not be able to get around her. Billy's face reddened, and he let out a huff as he slammed his head against the seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Max’s lips stretch into a repressed smile, and when the road was clear, he gunned it past Diana, who threw her middle finger up in protest, making eye contact with both of them through his window. When she saw Max, she waved, which Max returned happily, but when they had passed, Billy saw through the rearview mirror that Diana had stuck her tongue out at him petulantly. “Jackass,” he muttered, wearing an expression that Max took as him being amused.
Although they shared multiple classes together, Billy had yet to acknowledge Diana at school. He had begun to watch her though. In the hallway, partway through class, walking to lunch. It was as if he had some form of tracker on her- he was always aware of where she was in relation to him. It pissed him off.
Basketball practice was a relief, however even that was about to end. He liked being able to just be physical for a cause. It was a language he spoke well. Especially when teamed up against Steve Harrington, who he had yet to forget about seeing with Diana. Billy didn’t hate Steve, Billy just hated what Steve represented. In fact, Billy rather liked Steve, appreciating the aloof nature that caused him to rise to the top of the gene cesspool of Hawkins. But Steve was small town, a big fish in a small pond. And Billy had to learn how to be a big fish in a big pond in Venice Beach, so Steve’s easy cool and big hair frustrated him. He usually took it out on Steve in practice by taunting and jeering, but he decided that today I’m just going to kick his ass. And he did. Billy didn’t hold back, and by the end of practice, Steve was a winded mess of deflated hair and unresolved aggression.
In the locker room after practice, Steve was visibly annoyed, and Billy challenged him with a smug smirk. Steve took the bait. “So, got your eyes on Di Miller, huh?” Billy’s eyes narrowed, and without responding, he headed into the shower area. Steve followed him in, not relenting. “You know, she’s definitely way above your standards. Finally shooting for something with more than a pulse?”
The hot water was running down his back, soothing the muscles from the aggressive practice, but that wasn’t the reason for Billy’s rising temperature. Choosing to take Steve’s jabs in stride, he shot him a shit-eating grin. “I know, right? Have you seen these girls though? Not much to choose from.”
Steve ignored him. “Pretty smart of you, getting your sister to ask Di for help after school for soccer tryouts. That was your idea, right?”
Di was helping Max prep for tryouts? Billy’s mind raced. He didn’t like that Steve knew that information and he didn’t, but he almost felt a small swell of pride for Max in her efforts. There was no way that he could let Steve have the last word - he had let Steve Harrington say damn well enough today already - so he settled for the low blow. “And how are things going between you and the princess again? Maybe I’ll go after her since you clearly weren’t enough to keep her satisfied.” Billy had won. Steve ground his teeth, and his hand formed a fist - as if he were contemplating punching Billy. But on second thought, with the still recent memory of the blunt pain of Billy’s rings hitting his face at the Byers’, Steve forced himself to relax and didn’t say another word as he left Billy standing under the steaming shower.
Billy was curious. Steve’s words about Max and Di still ricocheting in his head, he parked close to the gym doors of the middle school. Seeing the door was slightly propped open, he entered quietly, leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. A smile crept over his face as he scanned the gym class- he wanted to be discreet, so he made sure to come before the end of the school day. He spotted her almost immediately, working with a group of girls on running drills across the width of the gym, counting himself lucky that there was a group of boys playing basketball between them. The second thing he noticed was that curly-headed kid Dustin tapping Sinclair on the arm, his jaw hanging low and eyes trained on Billy. Internally finding the humor in Lucas' mouthed "oh shit" at the sight of him. Lucas' eyes flickering between Billy and Max, Billy placed his finger against his lips in a silent show of secrecy. Lucas and Dustin both nodded frantically, signaling their friends to return to their game.
Di was leading passing drills, staggering three pairs across the gym to pass and receive the ball. He watched her coach them on technique with that same slight smile on his face. Her back was to him, and his eyes wandered over her figure. Dark hair tied up into a ponytail at the crown of her head. The sleeves of her sweatshirt pulled above her elbows, hands above her hips. Her feet planted in a wide second stance. His gaze lingered low- those leggings were doing her all kinds of favors.
Max was in the last pair, and although he was aware that she was at least a little athletic, he was impressed at her speed and coordination. Neither had noticed him yet, so he stayed where he was, even after the gym class had ended. When they switched to one on one shooting drills, he nearly had a heart attack watching Di demonstrate with the coach. They had changed orientation so that they were running length-wise down the gym, and Max had finally seen Billy. He wasn’t paying her any attention though- his focus was on the girl running straight toward him. The blue of her eyes caught against the blushed red of her cheeks, her body lean, strong, and fast as she dodged her coach. She halted at the free throw line, tucking her toe under the soccer ball and sending it flying toward Billy. Max watched his eyes widen as the ball made contact with his stomach, his breath releasing in a loud “oof!” and his arms wrapping around the ball. Max was grinning and was not at all worried about his reaction. Not that she had anything to worry about. Billy was too focused on Diana.
Diana beamed a cheeky smile at Billy, and despite the wind just returning to his lungs, he quirked his eyebrows and sent a smirk back, tossing the ball back into her arms. She turned around to head back to the girls, and his gaze shifted once again to those leggings. He had the thought that he should personally thank whoever made those leggings - purely for the effect they had on him. And it wasn’t just the leggings, it was all of Diana.
He could count on one hand the number of times he had experienced true regret, but he definitely was kicking himself now for not having noticed Diana Miller before. He had been missing out on her. Maybe that was a blessing in disguise though - because honestly, he’d never stop noticing her now. His body wouldn’t allow it. Although, he wasn’t sure that he trusted his body anymore considering its current reaction to her flushed cheeks, long legs, and blue eyes - a reaction that probably wasn’t too appropriate in a gym full of middle school girls. And in jeans as tight as his, he had to be especially careful. As soon as he could force himself to move, he ducked out of the gym doors and headed straight to his car to cool the hell down before Max got done.
Max charged through the gym door with the echo of a laugh on her face, smiling even wider when she saw Billy. Unclear as to whether or not she was actually looking at him, his eyebrows shot up in awe when she spoke excitedly, “Di could not stop smiling after you- how did you know to come? Do you li-” Catching herself from being too amicable as she saw the look of shock on his face, she slowed down her pace and allowed her expression to falter, assuming nonchalance. With a quick jerk of his head toward the car, Billy and Max both slammed the doors behind them. Billy hadn’t turned on the car yet. Billy’s focus locked onto Max, voice quiet, he spoke.
“You didn’t tell me you had shit after school,” the timbre of his voice calm and low. But not angry, Max noted. “Everyday?” Max thought on Billy's words- Was he thinking about coming to the gym again? Did he like Diana? Obviously, making an appearance in the gym showed some sort of curiosity from him; though she wondered how he found out about her asking Di for extra help. Then again, she wasn’t really all that surprised- sometimes Billy just knew things.
She considered briefly if he knew that Diana had an effect on him that Max liked: ruffling her hair rather than threatening her, smirking rather than scowling, and conversing rather than shouting. If Billy had known her intentions, would he have been playing into them so easily? Or did he even realize yet that he liked Diana? Questions raced through Max’s mind as she fixed her gaze on a small spot on the windshield, and she felt Billy’s resignation from her silence as he sighed, turning the keys in the ignition. “Whatever,” he mumbled. “You have shit form anyway.” Max turned to the passenger window with a small smirk on her face.
Aside from the dull pulse of Van Halen coursing through the speakers, the near silent atmosphere of the car annoyed Billy. He had questions for Max that he had no desire to ask (Discussing girls with Max? That was a can of worms that could be left unopened), and even so, he thought the answers might have been unwelcome. So he kept his mouth shut and kept driving. When they arrived at the house, he noted that his father’s car was not around and breathed a sigh of relief, not acknowledging Max as he beat her to the door, leaving the tension of the almost conversation in his car.
Storming through the house to his room, Billy passed Susan, Max’s mother. He didn’t pay her much attention except for a quick nod, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see her regarding him closely. Nothing inside of him wanted to stay to find out what that was about, so he hurried to the back of the house to the only place that felt like it was his. Billy’s room wasn’t much, and he was aware of that. He had minimal decor that included a small vanity fashioned from old crates and a mirror propped against the wall. Aside from a few risqué posters taped up deliberately, there wasn’t much evidence that a teenage boy occupied the room. Billy liked to keep what few things he had in his room put away. He hated clutter, which was fine because you had to have stuff to have clutter, and frankly, he didn’t have much at all. Just some cologne, a crumpled pack of cigarettes, and a few stray earrings sat on the vanity top to show that Billy really did live there. HIs bed was made with hard edges- the only warmth existed in the makeshift nightstand on the other side. More crates stacked with the open sides facing toward the bed revealing a load of books stuffed however they would go, and an excess even stacked on top.
A small knock resonated on his door as he shook off his denim jacket from his shoulders. Susan, slight in stature, peeked around the door frame. With Billy making no immediate protestations to her presence, she took advantage of the opportunity to slip into his room, taking a seat on the very corner of his bed. She perched carefully, almost like a small and timid bird, so delicately that he hoped she might just slip off of it. “Your father and I are going out Friday night,” she started as she looked up at Billy expectantly. She was only met with another brief nod as he rolled his lips between his teeth in frustration, anger brewing in his chest that he had to give up yet another night to watch Max. That bitch is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She proved that at the Byers’, he thought bitterly. “But I was thinking,” Susan patted the spot on the bed next to her, motioning for him to sit. Without conscious effort, he obeyed, mentally kicking himself for being so compliant. “You’re a good boy, Billy.” If only she knew. “You’ve been doing so well at keeping an eye out for Maxine,” Susan was waffling, and Billy knew it. He didn’t like her motherly tone- she was absolutely not his mother- and he thought he should have interrupted, sent her out, been rude. But he wasn’t and he didn’t; he only looked away. Her hand tapped his face gently as she pulled him to look at her. She looked sincere. “You’re a good looking boy- you should go out. I remember being a kid, and everyone deserves some time to blow off steam. Enjoy yourself. I’ll ask that Miller girl down the road to watch Max.” Billy’s brow furrowed in confusion as he registered her meaning and what she was offering to him, but in the back of his mind, his father’s voice rang out sharply about responsibility and respect. “There’s no need for him to know. This can be our little secret.”
Diana Miller felt tired all the time. She had classes and work at school, training and work at the gym, and work and sleep at home. But occasionally, she had a moment where she could lay across her designated armchair in her living room and watch a minute of television, or if she wasn’t totally braindead, read a bit of a nice book. On this specific Tuesday afternoon, her water aerobics class had been canceled due to a conflicting community Bingo night, so she was sprawled across the plush cushions with Of Love and Shadows in hand, avoiding any other obligation. Sandra was pulling a personal training shift at the gym, so Di had fixed herself a nacho dinner out of some leftover sloppy joe meat and Ruffles chips and was balancing her plate on her stomach as she read intently. She was picking at some rogue sloppy joe meat that had fallen from a chip onto the heather gray material of her sweatpants when she jumped at the ringing of the doorbell, dropping her book as her hands went immediately to protect her food and catch her plate. Setting it on the seat cushion, she jogged over to the door, straightening out her t-shirt and grimacing at her reflection in the mirror.
Her gaze shifted down as she pulled the door open to reveal Max standing awkwardly with her hands behind her back and her bottom lip pulled beneath her teeth. Maybe it was just that she was Max’s teacher and felt a sort of maternal bond to her, but Di immediately straightened, looking around as an overprotective sister might. Max smiled, “Hey, Miller.”
Ushering Max inside her house, Di looked at the redhead warily, “Is everything okay?” Motioning for Max to take a seat on the couch, Di planted herself right beside her, sinking into the arm as she faced the girl who looked almost nervous across from her.
“Are you busy Friday night?” Di was eyeing her suspiciously as she posed the question rather bluntly. Max’s gaze shifted to the armchair with the nachos and she shuffled uncomfortably in the couch cushions. Glancing around the warm wood-trimmed living room and noticing the pictures of Di and who she could only presume was Mrs. Miller hung around the room with artistic pictures of various landscapes littered in between. Ceramic artifacts and whittled wood sculptures had been mounted on the walls causing the house to have an eclectic and exotic feel to it. Max wasn’t really surprised seeing all of the various souvenirs having heard a little from Diana about her travels with her mother. She was the only person in Hawkins who Max could talk to about California… who would understand why Max missed it like she did. Except for perhaps Billy, but Billy didn’t talk to Max about much.
Diana hadn’t answered, still scrutinizing Max, so Max continued, “It’s just, my mom and stepdad are going out and I was hoping you could come over and help me with soccer stuff again. I don’t know that I can stay after school anymore this week.” Diana thought to Billy and wondered if it was his fault that Max wouldn’t be returning, that protective nature taking over again as her fist clenched white at her side.
When she realized how irrational her anger was, she relaxed her hand and smiled softly at Max. “Friday night is perfect.” Max shot off the couch, engulfing her in a hug as Di let out a soft “oof” and a string of giggles at the force of it. As she realized how abrupt her gesture was, Max began to laugh as well, and she fell backward onto the seat cushions, splaying her arms out wide. Di cleared her throat before walking over to her armchair and offering Max a nacho.
“This is disgusting,” Max eyed the smothered Ruffles chip cautiously before stuffing it in her mouth.
Gyms stink- this was a fact that Diana was always privy to. However, she was taking special note having experienced full class loads of sweaty teenagers running laps around it. Something about the air that didn’t circulate properly combined with the multitudes of thirteen year olds that had not yet discovered the wonders of deodorant and anti-perspirant made for a winning combination that had Diana attempting to discreetly cover her nose with her wrist while also correcting sprint form.
“Dustin, straighten your back, please,” she called through the material of her blouse. He smiled a toothy grin and gave her a thumbs up before continuing his sprint, his somewhat aligned spine eventually crumpling into a hunch again, arms swinging erratically at his sides. Coach Hart was on the other side of the gym, barking similar instructions, and Diana noticed that she had propped the door to the outside open as a chance for the room to air out. Amused when students in their gym shorts and t-shirts would actively avoid running in front of the door, hugging themselves for warmth, she stifled a giggle as Hart made eye contact with her and fanned her hand in front of her face. Di was still mostly enjoying her time working with the eighth grade gym class, though she couldn’t admit to the smell being her favorite. However, she did have to drop a couple of her other obligations due to her school work beginning to falter. She hadn’t seen her friends outside of brief conversations in the hallways during school. No more late nights covering the lifeguard post at the community center, and she had to turn down a couple of weeknight babysitting gigs. Sandra had mentioned they were in a good spot financially though- that they should be able to afford the down payment on the Jeep come April- but that had meant less nights with Sandra as she had been pulling so many extra shifts. Diana had been so tired one morning that she almost fell asleep biking to school; she couldn’t imagine how her mother was doing it. Missy may have compared Di to Wonder Woman, but Diana could only view Sandra as a superhero.
As she saw the ginger hair pulled into a long ponytail resembling her own, Di’s focus shifted to Max and she smiled. The eighth grader picked up her pace as she passed, feigning kicking a soccer ball when she reached the corner. The gym classes had been fairly uneventful since Monday afternoon when Billy Hargrove made his appearance. In fact, Di had been expecting Steve to drop by Wednesday like usual, yet he was nowhere to be found. Diana tried to stay after with Dustin to find out why, but even he made a clean getaway straight after class. Although she enjoyed her chats with Steve, she wasn’t too broken up about not seeing him. Somehow her slight encounter with Billy Hargrove was a reasonable replacement, and though she couldn’t say why, the shock on his face when her aim had met its target and body caved around the soccer ball had been replaying in her mind for the past four days.
It was strange thinking of Billy- she didn’t particularly know him that well, and what she did know of him, she shouldn’t really like. But he had those stupid curls and that smirk that hit her like a blow to the stomach. Plus there was the matter of her spending an extended amount of time in his house in just a few short hours. She would have just enough time for a run and a shower after school to get there after 6 o’clock, and she hoped that would be the cure for whatever was going on inside her head. Maybe a little fresh air would help her clear her mind before facing the lion’s den.
Max let Diana in exactly at 6:45. She had made it very clear that Diana was not to come before then as to avoid Neil, so Di kept watch from her house until she was sure that there was no chance of her running into the adults. Walking into the Hargrove household, the first thing Diana noticed was the sparing use of furniture. Modestly decorated, only the basics were on display- a simply upholstered couch and a couple of chairs set around the walls of the room. The green mantle held a large jar of seashells, a lamp, and a vase of flowers with small framed photographs placed in between. Taking a step forward, Diana picked up one of the frames observing swimsuit-clad Billy and Max standing against what must have been the California shoreline, each holding their own surfboards and Billy’s arm strewn around Max’s shoulders. Max had been laughing, eyes set in squints that were focused on Billy, whose stark-white teeth were fully bared in a smile that seemed to break his whole face. It looked to be a nice memory.
The second thing Diana spotted was the exercise equipment positioned in careful right angles in the corner of the den closest to the living room. A grin crept across her face at the sight of the bench and barbell, twenty-five pound weights with ten pound ends on each side, and she was a little ashamed to admit that her interest was piqued with the thought of Billy benching that much. The television and stand sat diagonally in the corner, an open beer can on the ledge. Max cleared her throat, snapping Di out of her stupor, “Billy works out a lot.”
Diana’s eyes shot over to Max, and she smiled widely. “You know, we can totally use this stuff to train. Weights are just as important as cardio and drills.” She ran her fingertips over the bar- Diana spent most of her time around equipment but didn’t have any at home, and she was a little envious.
Shaking her head, Max spoke at a low volume, nodding her head towards the back of the house, “He doesn’t let anyone else touch it.” Diana had been so busy noticing all of the details of the house that she hadn’t heard the accompanying soundtrack. Following the bass line, she was able to gather that Billy Squier’s “The Stroke” was resonating from where Max had gestured, alerting her to Billy’s presence. She hadn’t realized that Billy would still be at the house, and a wave of something she couldn’t place washed over her. Nerves.
Max had already disappeared into what Diana presumed to be the kitchen when the music shut off and a door opened and closed immediately afterward. The boy in question walked through, shrugging a well-worn brown leather jacket over the shoulders of his powder blue button down (to be fair, calling it a button down was a bit generous considering Diana could see Billy’s torso all the way down the defined ridges of his abs). He stopped cold, seeing Diana Miller standing next to the only other area in the house that felt like it belonged to him. Eyes traveling over the length of her, he said a silent thank you that she was wearing those leggings again, a loose cable-knit sweater draped over her torso. As his gaze made its way back up to her face, he pulled his collar up flush against his neck, locking eyes with her for the first time that night. “Diana Miller,” he said smoothly, pulling his lips between his teeth. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Despite soft curls fanning his wow clean-shaven face and the sharp blue of his eyes punctuated by the combination of tan skin and pale blue fabric, Diana had no intention of letting Billy Hargrove know she was transfixed. “Someone has to take care of Max while you do… whatever it is you do.” He let out something in between a breath and a laugh, taking a step closer to her. She caught a whiff of him then. “God, Hargrove, cool it on the cologne. What did you do? Take a bath in it?”
“Thinking about me in the bath, huh?” Smugly, he ran his tongue over his teeth, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and extracting one. Lighter already in his hand, he held the cig between his lips, lighting it swiftly and tucking both packet and lighter away. How they fit in his jean pockets, Di had no idea.
Her reply came not a second after. “Yeah, drowning,” she scoffed. Apparently her feet were working of their own accord though because she found herself taking two steps closer to him. Blood rushed to her cheeks when a full, fiery smile worked its way over Billy’s face.
“Bathroom’s three doors down to the right if you need a cool down, Miller.” Maintaining eye contact, he took a long drag from the cigarette before pulling it from his lips and letting his head hang back as he exhaled. With a quirk of his eyebrow, he walked quickly out of the room, for a second hoping that his date might be wearing leggings too.
Mrs. Simmons was resisting. Out of all the water aerobics participants, she was usually the most enthusiastic, but Diana knew that she had some recent health issues and her arthritis was causing her more frequent pain. She was complaining fairly often in this session, giving up on repetitions, and being overall disruptive. For a moment, Diana thought she was dealing with eighth graders again. Diana had come to realize that she really enjoyed teaching. And not just kids either- her time spent at the senior center was every bit as valuable. It had only been a few weeks, but Diana felt like she was gaining so much more than what she was giving, and on top of that, she was making money all the while.
Except Mrs. Simmons kept nagging Di about the pace being too quick, and that caused Diana to want to pull her hair out. And Mrs. Simmons’.
Class finished, and Diana breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at Mrs. Ellis and Mrs. Poole as they waved goodbye. Toweling dry, she headed to the locker room to dress. She changed quickly into her new pair of loose-fitting, patterned capri pants and the flowing, lightweight blouse her mother insisted on buying her.
Sandra had woken her up early with Betty the Saturday after Hart gave the okay for Diana to work at the middle school. Without much hint to where they were going, Di slipped on some clothes and followed them out to the car. “Your teacher wardrobe is terrible,” her mother explained on the way to the Roane County Mall. “We are getting you some real clothes.” The sentiment wasn’t totally unfair - Diana was on a rotation of sweatshirts and had just worn a hole through her last pair of black leggings. However, from the crowded racks of clothes in the department store to the utter lunacy of finding something in Diana’s price range that she actually liked, less than half an hour was necessary for Diana to remember why she absolutely detested shopping. As it turned out, she was almost grateful to Betty and her mother for the fact that she spent more time in the fitting rooms than on the floor. She didn’t hate trying things on. Just decision making. And dealing with strangers.
The trip yielded some pretty good results. Diana walked out with two new pairs of leggings, around seven loose and breathable blouses, and three types of pants that allowed for movement. Looking at herself in the locker room mirror, she had to admit that it was an improvement on what she wore to her first week. She tugged the scrunchie out of her hair so that loose waves of chocolate fell around her shoulders. As she studied her reflection, she didn’t hate what she saw. Objectively, she looked like an athlete, with broad shoulders that lead down to slim, toned arms, a trimmed waist, and the muscular legs of a runner. She had her mom to thank for her thick, dark hair, and most of her facial features as well. Solid blue eyes fanned by curled lashes, a delicately shaped nose, and a wide, toothy smile. She liked that she favored her mother. Really, the only features of her father’s that she wanted to keep were her naturally thick eyebrows and the small dimple in the middle of her chin. She stayed out of the sun for fear of adopting her father’s olive complexion. Diana thought she looked earthy, like she was always two steps removed from living on a desert island, so she brought out the feminine features that she did have by wearing makeup only shaded in soft pinks. Irrational as it was, she felt like rounding out the angles of her face distanced herself from Kenneth’s sharp jawline and cheekbones.
Blinking a few times at her reflection, Diana remembered that she left her bike at school opting to just walk to the gym. However, 24 Hour Fitness was located on Washington and Kinley, just a block down from the General Store, meaning she was closer to home. Going back to school for the bike would just take her out of the way. She liked running anyway. Zipping up her coat as high as she could and tightening her shoelaces and backpack straps, Diana took off out of the gym in order to make it to her house by dark, prepared for it to be much cooler than it was. Hawkins had been considerably less predictable in regards to the weather over the past couple of months. Despite it being the second week of January, the temperature was quite high, sitting around fifty degrees mid-afternoon. Di actually began to sweat underneath her coat, even with the fading sunlight. All around her were barren trees, though, and the sky was perpetually fixed on a dull gray. She turned the corner onto her street. As she passed the neighboring houses, she noticed a familiar figure standing on his porch repping bicep curls with a barbell. She could have sworn that Billy Hargrove almost smiled at her.
Schoolwork was becoming a little more difficult to juggle. Almost a month into the semester, Di was having to find a balance between homework, keeping in shape, maintaining her chores, teaching water aerobics, and some odd babysitting jobs here and there. Working with Coach Hart had turned out to be the least disruptive part of her schedule, and she was still having a blast doing it. Even the most mundane of tasks became the work that Diana looked forward to completing, the jobs that gave her the most satisfaction. When Hart told her that she could reorganize the equipment closet to season and relevance, she walked in proud with her mother’s label maker. Going above and beyond to create a specific and up to date inventory for herself, she went so far as to include benchmarks on required upkeep for the equipment and the time periods that those would have to be managed. And even all of that didn’t include the fun of teaching.
Diana Miller, for most of the time, was perfectly fine being left alone. Though she enjoyed company of many different types of people, she wasn’t uncomfortable being in her own head. But Diana could totally and completely admit that she was at her happiest when working with the kids at the middle school. Smart and witty, the eighth graders kept Di on her toes, and it helped that they were weird. Having grown up being the tall, athletic girl who spent a summer traipsing the country with her single mother, Diana knew weird. But she was nothing compared to the students she worked with, and it was fun for her to see their personalities and watch them interact. Above all, she truly loved helping them. Several had approached her outside of class to ask advice on high school courses and social entanglements, to which she would respond happily and honestly.
And even though she knew it was wrong, she had picked out her favorites. She was convinced that some of the best students did not really need her as a teacher at all, and then the others, who may have struggled, made up for their physical deficiencies in intelligence and work ethic. There was Libby, who reminded Diana of a younger version of herself. Strong-willed and fast, Libby could kick the lights out of anyone who challenged her in soccer and tennis. Sam had a great arm- he could pitch and toss and catch, and he made a point to help out those who struggled. Christine could recite each bone in the body without hesitation while also knowing the best exercises to keep up the different functions within the body. Max Hargrove was also among the naturally gifted, gliding quickly whenever wheels were placed beneath her feet. She hung around a lanky kid named Lucas who, at the very least, had phenomenal aim.
Then there was Dustin. Diana absolutely adored Dustin. He had very little inherent athletic ability, but he was bright and positive, and he made a point to respond enthusiastically to each and every one of her suggestions. She had the vague thought that he may have had a little crush on her, but as long as he did his work to the best of his ability, she wasn’t bothered by it.
Birdies were flying over volleyball nets in the gym, and the fault was completely Diana’s. The idea of Badminton always appealed to her, and she had convinced Coach to test out a unit with a few cheap birdies and tennis rackets. With the birdies being so lightweight, there was less inflicted damage than in tennis, and typically it didn’t require as much strength or precision to succeed. Students really seemed to enjoy playing, and Gracie was dominating everyone she faced. Dustin seemed distracted, though, and Diana understood why when Steve entered the gym toward the end of class.
Steve Harrington stood tall and proud with hair that just didn’t quit. He was something of class royalty among the seniors, and Betty had been crushing on him since about the fourth grade. He noticed Dustin and gave a slight nod, taking a seat on the furthest set of bleachers and resting his shoulders on his knees, eyes alert with a grin on his face. From then on, Dustin was a mess. Hyperactive laughing, inattentive and bumping into other kids, maybe hitting two out of seven birdies in total (except Diana was counting the one that soared over the net straight into Dustin’s forehead, which she considered pretty generous), all while his eyes flitted back and forth from Steve.
Coach blew the whistle, and the kids routinely put back all the equipment and headed into the locker rooms to change. As she was checking the rackets, Steve sauntered over to Diana.
She looked up, raising her eyebrows as she tutted reproachfully. “You, sir, are not allowed in here anymore. Poor Dustin lost his mind.”
Steve huffed out a laugh, rubbing his fingers over his lips. “Yeah, the little shit stinks, doesn’t he?” Diana nodded, a grin stretched wide across her face. “We’ve got a standing library date- he helps me with the books, I help him with the looks, you know.”
Diana heard Steve, and started to contort her face into a reaction, but Calculus swam in front of her eyes, mixing with French to form its own terrifying language. Steve noticed her pale in color. “You alright, Di?” he asked warily, turning his head to glance around the room, his hand going to the small of her back protectively.
She shook her head quickly, vision blanking before settling on his look of concern. “What? Oh, yes, just a lot of homework.” A lot.
“Come to the library with us. We’ll keep you on track,” he offered with a weak smile, pulling his hand away and crossing his arms over his chest. Breathing a sigh of relief as he could only do after watching someone look as if they were seeing a ghost. Or something else. She shot him a thoughtful glance before nodding yes. In the time it took for Dustin to rejoin them, Di was able to finish tidying up the gym, closing up the electric blue matting on the wall that covered the storage space for the volleyball net. Dustin’s eyes lit up at the prospect of a new addition to the group, especially this addition, Diana thought. As they began to walk out of the gym, Dustin started on what must have been twenty different questions for Steve. “How was your day? Did you ace that science quiz? Did you see me hit the birdie?-“ he continued speaking, barely letting Steve get a word in, and Diana thought briefly about the dramatic difference in Steve over the years.
The Harringtons lived away from the rest of the neighborhood, secluded in the woods outside of town. Those woods bordered the property across the street from the Millers, so it was a straight shot walking through about an eighth of a mile through trees to reach their house. When Kenneth left, Mrs. Harrington offered to help Sandra get back on her feet by having her be a semi-permanent babysitter to Steve. Though Steve and Diana had gone to school with one another all their lives, they only began to really speak in the spring of their third grade year. Steve’s parents were top businessmen, so they went away frequently. Because Steve practically lived with Di, even at school they were inseparable, playing together during recess, sitting next to one another in class, pairing off on homework. Steve quickly became her adopted brother, and Sandra loved the bond of their little fragmented family. A year and a half later, when Sandra was able to support herself and pick up more jobs, and the Harringtons came home more often, Di and Steve would still interact. However, people get older, and people change, so though they were always cordial and though their friendship would never really dissipate, it also never really was the same. And then Steve grew tall and handsome and popular, and Di grew tall and pretty and reserved. Both of them knew they could have been better friends for longer, but neither of them ever challenged it as they grew apart.
Dustin was still talking while the three of them stopped at his locker. Out of the corner of her eye, Di could see Max and Lucas, close enough to one another to be holding hands discreetly. Lucas said something that made Max belly laugh, and a smile crept across Diana’s face at seeing Max light up the way she did. Suddenly, Max pulled away from Lucas, eyes focused on the clock hung above the door, “Shit, I’m late.” Lucas nodded frantically heading in the opposite direction to the trio. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he called. Max gave a short nod and ran towards the front of the school building.
By this point, Dustin had stopped speaking. He was looking at Steve with a funny expression- wide eyed and open mouthed. Steve shook his head and shrugged. Whatever was happening in this exchange, Diana didn’t understand, so she began walking the same path Max took to the entrance. The two boys followed a little further behind, and Diana heard hushed whispers, rolling her eyes at the secrecy. Books held against her body with one hand, she pushed the door open, noticing the passenger door slam on the bright blue Camaro parked right out front. Billy looked livid, breathing heavily with his fists clenched at his sides. He was in the same position as the last time she saw him outside the school, leaning against the trunk of his car. Hearing the sound of the door, his eyes shot up to her. Studying her, she saw that same sly smile play at his lips, however it was gone as soon as it had come. His eyes were focused behind her.
“Harrington!” he called, almost angrily, pushing off of his vehicle and strutting toward the three of them. “What’d I tell you?” His gait was slow and relaxed as he strode toward Steve. Dangling out of his mouth was a cigarette, and as he walked past Diana, his eyes flickered to her and then back to the boys behind her.
Relaxing back on his heels, Steve matched Billy’s stride until there was only a foot between them. Dustin was almost entirely behind Steve until Di’s fingers cinched around the arm of his coat sleeve and she yanked him toward the bike rack. “What are you on about, Hargrove?” Steve was calm and resolute, and Billy wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulders.
Steve tensed with Billy’s hand gripping him so tightly. They were close enough that Steve might as well have been enjoying the cigarette too, tendrils of smoke billowing up into his face. When Billy spoke, his attention was toward the ground and his voice was low. “Plenty of bitches. I just… you know, I wish you’d saved me this one,” he took the cigarette out of his mouth as he spoke, gesturing in small sympathetic waves.
Diana watched the odd exchange closely, and though she was not able to discern what Billy said, she did see the muscle in Steve’s jaw tense. She watched him elbow Billy away, responding with a quick, “Screw you.” Taking large steps to close the distance between him and Dustin.
Billy turned slowly, a smirk settled upon his face as his eyes followed the three of them. He saw just enough red to give him that rush. The kind that rose like flames through his gut but didn’t yet overcome his actions. Then he remembered that Max made him wait again, on top of King Steve winning out and getting the one girl that interested him. His fingernails dug into the palms of his hands, enough to draw blood to the surface. Eyes narrowed and mouth clamped shut, he took slow, careful steps toward his car.
Steve was mum on his interaction with Billy. No matter how many times Dustin pestered him about it, he pinched his lips closed and shook his head. Diana figured adding fuel to the fire wasn't appropriate, so she sat quietly and studied her history notes. The quiet shuffling of bodies through the library helped her concentrate, and by the time Dustin and Steve were ready to leave, she had accomplished nearly twice as much more than she would have at home, she suspected. The three parted ways after Steve drove them back to the school so Di could get her bike, and she started home, standing on the pedals for more power. Wind nipped at Diana’s cheeks, and with the change in weather, even her coat wasn’t offering her too much protection. As she rode down her street, she noticed Max sitting on the steps outside her house with a roll of duct tape and her skateboard, split in two. Skidding to a stop, she propped her bike up on the mailbox and walked toward Max, sitting down next to her on the stoop. Max gave her a small smile, but Diana could tell by the aggression in her taping up her board that smiling was not something she felt like doing.
“Isn’t it a little cold for you to be out here doing this?” Diana asked, grabbing the two parts of the board and holding them still so Max could tape evenly.
Max lined up the tape precisely and pressed it down with care, smoothing out any creases and bubbles.Then she grumbled, tilting her head toward the house, “I wasn’t about to do it in there.” Di nodded as she twisted her lips to the side, helping Max rip the tape after a few more wraps.
“The hell is this?” Max tensed out of recognition. Circumstances with Billy had improved after their tête-a-tête at the Byers’ back in November, but now that things had calmed and Max wasn’t wielding a bat chock full of nails, Billy’s anger had started to get the best of him. They had an… understanding, but Max knew he hated the town and missed California more than he would let on. And since he wouldn’t talk about it, all he knew to do was get angry. Max respected that he was unhappy, she just wished he would distinguish between anger at a situation and anger at her. His inflection as he stood on the walk with his thumbs holding the waistline of his jeans was not angry though. From the lifted corner of his mouth to his raised eyebrow, Max thought it might have been playful.
Diana’s eyes scanned up Billy’s figure until she met his gaze. “Just saw your sister needed some help. I figure I’ve got the time.” Billy gave a slight nod, still wearing that signature smirk of his. “Besides, it must take a real creep to break a kid’s skateboard.” Max’s eyes shot up wide at Diana, while Billy’s narrowed at the challenge.
“Yeah, well to be fair, Maxine can be a piece of shit.”
Diana was not impressed, lifting up to her feet and dusting off her jeans. “From what I hear, so can her brother.” Her glare matched the intensity of the full, toothy smile that crept over his face.
His voice dropped half an octave as he took a step closer. “Oh? What else do you hear about me?”
His question was met with no response as Diana turned to Max, her cheeks heating up in frustration. “Maxine, if you ever need anything, I live in that house,” she pointed for emphasis. “Please do not hesitate to come by. You-“ she turned quickly to Billy, “you shouldn’t make a habit of breaking other people’s things. It could come back to bite you.” Billy’s mouth opened, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, his tongue swiped across his teeth in a laugh as Di jogged to her bike, throwing her leg over and pedaling away. Max’s gaze was fixed on Billy, whose eyes followed Diana down the street and as she took the steps by twos to her house. His hand came toward Max, and she almost fell off the step in trying to protect her board. It was a shock then, when Billy’s hand landed on top of her head, his fingers giving her hair a light ruffle. She looked at him, mouth agape, but he was still staring at the Miller house, fingertips of his other hand trailing over the grin on his lips.
Nothing happened in Hawkins. That had been the saying, at least. Diana Miller knew better, and somehow, she also gathered that most happenings in Hawkins occurred around or near herself. All of it started when Kenneth Miller left town, Peggy Gillespie hot on his heels. Diana was eight at the time and didn’t understand more than “sometimes when mommies and daddies don’t love one another any more….” She was the ripe age of seventeen now- she got it. Not long after, Peggy returned to Hawkins, cradled in the pity of her cousin, Eleanor.
Di had just turned ten when her mother almost ground that Peggy to a pulp in broad daylight right in Town Square, which prompted a spontaneous trip around the country. Just Diana and Sandra, speeding down the interstate system through plain and mountain, all the way until coastline spread as far as the eye could see. Diana could think of nothing more beautiful and tranquil than the West Coast. She loved California more than any other place they visited. But it wasn’t Hawkins, and by the time the Miller women returned, things in Indiana had stabilized. Except for that incident of Eleanor and the owl mistaking her hair for a nest, which made Diana laugh to this day.
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