She's A Runner Part One*
summary A broken-down Datsun, a snow day, and one first date. Unfortunately, understanding each other is proving much harder than falling for each other.
warnings cursing, angst
word count 5066
note Hi everyone! This is a 2026 rewrite of Part One to my Billy Hargrove fanfiction series, She's a Runner. This rewrite is combines the original Part 1 and 2. The original Part 1 and Part 2 will remain posted. New rewrite titles will always have an * to tell the difference.
Inspired by Billy Squier’s She’s A Runner
This is an updated rewrite* As always, any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!
You sat in your car. Just a little while longer. Enjoying the warmth before going out into the bracing January cold. A contented smile graced your lips.
Today was Thursday. No History. No Chemistry.
No Billy.
Happily snuggled in the driver’s seat, you rested your eyes. Pulling your scarf a little tighter. There was easily twenty minutes before you would have to head into Hawkins High.
Today was going to be a good day. Or so you thought…
HONK HOOONK HONK
You jumped, your head nearly hit the roof. Startled from your daydream, you sat bolt upright. The whine of the horn was intrusive.
No. Now? No no no.
Please no. Not today.
Looking out the driver’s side window you saw Billy Hargrove pull into the parking spot next to you. A prideful smirk splayed on his lips. You groaned loudly, throwing your head back against the headrest several times.
What did I ever do to deserve this?
Maybe if I give myself a concussion, it’ll all go away.
Ugh.
You narrowed your eyes at him. He responded with a playful little wave. You rolled your eyes and dropped your forehead on the steering wheel.
Whhhhhhhhyyyy?
You killed the engine, leaving your car as quick as you could. Nearly sprinting to the school. You purposely ran across several patches of black ice.
Please break a leg. And leave me. A-lone!
He had a passenger. No way he could catch up. I have the advantage.
You skidded to a halt, swaying to keep your balance. He beat you to the doors.
How!?
Your eyes scanned for other entry points. None. You grimaced horribly. Trudging toward the doors of Hawkins High. Toward Billy Hargrove. He held the door open for you, one arm stretched across the top. Leaning against the doorframe. He became the door. Great. You sniffed hotly. No going around. Only through. You closed your eyes, squeezing yourself beneath the arch of his arm. He smirked. “Mornin’.” You didn’t greet him. You didn’t thank him. He followed you. You glanced at the ceiling.
God, please…. I’m so tired.
He bumped your shoulder, bringing you back to earth. You looked at him suspiciously. “Your Wheaties sure got you in a good mood this morning.” “Oh even better,” he gushed. “My spot was open.” He was far too happy. He followed you all the way to your locker. Leaning against the one adjacent to yours. You opened your locker, ignoring him.
Had you purposely given him his precious spot back?
Yes.
But he didn’t know that you spent the better part of ten minutes idling in the school parking lot. Arguing with yourself about whether it was worth it or not. You finally convinced yourself, pulling in one spot over.
He doesn’t need to know. I just wanted some peace. To be left alone.
This plan had failed.
“Can’t you be somebody else’s headache today?” You complained. He chuckled, snatching the literature book from your hands. You went to reach for it. He lofted it high. Out of your reach. “Billy, I need that for first period!” He leaned down, taunting you. Begging you to try and take it from him. Taking a deep breath, you jumped for it. A trick shot. He kept it away. Laughing at your feeble attempt. Then he stepped closer. Too close. Artfully sliding his free arm around your waist, he lowered the book within reach. The halls were filling with morning activity. Students opening lockers, making greetings, catching up. Your skin crawled. Your face heated. He was smiling at you. You couldn’t meet his eyes. He had you. He laughed softly, finally handing back the book. Then his free hand drifted slowly up the length of your arm. You stiffened. Too easy, he thought.
“Come out with me this weekend,” he stated. Not asked. You continued to avoid his eyes, shoving the book into your backpack. You frowned, looking at your shoes. He was unbearably close. You could feel the heat radiating off your cheeks. He dipped his head, anticipating your answer. You took a breath. “No….” His arm around you loosened. He scoffed. A disbelieving laugh. “No???” You wriggled free of his grasp. “No.” You said with a tiny bit more conviction. You shut your locker and walked away. Billy looked confused. “Hey!” He followed after you. “Wait a sec!” Your heart was racing. You just wanted it to stop. He caught up. You rounded on him. Pressing a firm finger to the center of his chest. “I may not get out much. … I may not party or raise hell like other kids.” You were irritated. “But I have ears… I’m not falling for your bullshit.” “No!” You poked hard for emphasis. You stalked off. The bell rang.
You were looking forward to a Billy-free day. Now… You kind of felt guilty.
Was that too harsh? Nah. He’ll never learn if you don’t put your foot down.
You glanced back into the hall before entering the classroom. Billy was there. Standing in an empty hallway. Staring at his boots.
American Lit sucked. Your mind wasn’t in your work. You spent half the class staring into space. Off in your own little world.
He’s mad. Has to be. Why didn’t he look it? Billy’s always mad. Everybody says so.
“(F/N)?” Mr. Trent snapped his fingers in front of your face. You blinked. “Sorry?” Mr. Trent straightened. “Everybody, I know lunch is nigh but try to pay attention.” A few classmates snickered. You slumped in your chair. Wonderful. Even Mr. Trent knew your brain was MIA. The bell finally rang.
You skipped out on lunch, aimlessly walking about. You frowned.
Should I apologize? No. Absolutely not. He’ll never leave you alone. You apologize and Billy Hargrove’s gonna be smiling at you at your funeral.
You found yourself in front of the gym. The shuffling and squeaking of sneakers brought you back to earth. Leaning in the open doorway, you looked in. You smiled softly. Familiar faces. Steve. Bob. Paul. Tommy. It was a pickup game. The varsity team was putting new prospects through their paces. They were pretty okay. But one. One of them was really good. You could tell. And you barely even knew how to count points in basketball. That said something. Whoever he was, he had absolutely no business looking that good in gym shorts. A crime.
He moved differently. Smoother. Faster. Like he knew where someone would be, before even they knew it. You found yourself watching with deep interest. Which was strange. You didn’t even like basketball. He was an absolute force. Crowding Steve. Not ceding a single inch. Steve went down. Ball in play. This mystery star player ran. An alley-oop. Straight into the basket.
You clapped. Not loudly. Just soft admiration. Recognition. With him, Hawkins High might win more than three games this season. He turned with a triumphant smile. It was Billy.
Your face dropped.
Shit.
You froze. He spotted you. He looked surprised to see you. Quickly giving way to an excited grin. Coated in a sheen of sweat and breathing hard, he looked almost feral. Like somebody loosed a wolf onto the basketball court.
You backed out of the doorway. He was coming over. “Hey!?” You winced.
Too late to run.
He stood in front of you. Glowing. Beaming. You looked away. Rubbing your arm awkwardly. “I… didn’t know you played basketball.” You muttered sheepishly. He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. He was growing smug. “Yeah.” He huffed. You looked anywhere but at him. This was your own mess. You were stuck. “That was a nice play.” You nudged at the court. “Nice?” He casually looked back at the court. And then back to you. You locked eyes. Your cheeks were heating. His tongue peeking between his teeth, he smirked. “Not falling for my bullshit are you?” You frowned. You hated how he flustered you. He chuckled. “Y’know, you co-” The warning bell rang. Fifth period. He broke eye contact. Without a word you walked off. “Catch you later, Firecracker!” He hollered after you. With a raised eyebrow, you turned and looked at him. He gave you a flirtatious wave, reentering the gym.
Firecracker?
You turned and walked toward fifth period. Sucking your lips in, you tried to stifle the smile threatening to appear.
Was he for real? Genuine? Or… Was this all going to blow up in your face?
You didn’t want to think about that right now. You felt giddy. Fuzzy all over. Which was concerning. You needed to get a hold of yourself. If you felt any worse, you’d be skipping into class. Thankfully you didn’t. That would’ve been humiliating.
The school day finished. You were thankful. Your head was swimming with emotions. You hadn’t felt like this in a long time. You weren’t sure that you wanted to. You needed to even out. Not space out.
Luckily. Billy wasn’t hovering around your locker. A giant sigh left your body. You packed up your things and headed for the parking lot. Snow was starting to fall in big fat flakes. A stronger storm was forecast for tomorrow morning. Praying that tomorrow would be a snow day. Unlocking your car, you got in and shut the door. You turned the ignition.
Putt-putt-putt
You frowned and turned the key again.
Putt-putt-putt Putt-putt-putt Putt-putt
The car wouldn’t start. “What now?” You checked all the gauges on the dashboard. Everything looked fine. You stubbornly turned the key. Again. The engine weakly sputtered in reply. You tried once more. Nothing. It wouldn’t turn over. You slouched in your seat. “Whhhy?” You whined.
You lost count of how many more attempts you made. “GAHH!” You yelled, rattling the steering wheel. “JUST WORK DAMMIT!”
Tap Tap Tap
You didn’t hear it. Trying to force the car to turn into a magic carpet.
WRAP WRAP
You jumped. The windows were fogged over. Taking a gloved hand, you wiped down the driver’s window. Billy was standing there. Hands in his pockets. He leaned toward the window. “What’sa matter?” He seemed mildly concerned. You blinked at him. Snowflakes were catching in his hair. His cheeks were ruddy.
TAP
“Hey!” Billy was waiting. You snapped out of it. “It won’t start.” You stated with frustration. Billy took a glance at your car. “Open your hood.” He instructed. “Why?” You asked somewhat defensively. “I’m gonna check your engine.” You raised an eyebrow, visually questioning his credentials. He motioned to the Camaro behind him. “Have you seen my car?” He was sarcastic but proud. Without a word, you popped the hood. Billy disappeared. A tug here, a clank there. He returned to you. “Get out.” He said. You bristled. “Why?” “Do you want help or not?” “Fine…” You got out, Billy slid in. He looked over the gauges. Pushed a few buttons. Turned the ignition.
Putt-putt-putt-putt
Billy got out of your car. “Think your gas line is frozen.” You wiped a hand down your face in frustration. Billy shut the hood. Rubbing his hands together, he breathed into them. “Well Firecracker?” “Looks like you need a ride.” You pulled your coat up tight. Tucking your scarf over your ears. “I’ll walk.” You declared. He raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re not walkin’.” “I am.” You fetched your backpack from the backseat. He unlocked the Camaro and opened the passenger door. You eyed him warily. Billy rolled his eyes dramatically. “Just get in? I won’t pull anything.” You narrowed your eyes. “Promise?” “Yeah, whatever. Get in.” He seemed somewhat concerned about you dying in some snow bank on the way home. He was already in the driver’s seat. Ducking his head, he looked at you. Standing stubbornly in the snow. “I know you live eight blocks away…” Your eyes snapped to his. “What?” Incredulous. “How?!” He started the engine. “You live on Birch, right?” You took one look back at your car. “Fine.” You slid into the passenger seat and shut the door.
Closing the door of the Camaro, you pulled your knees together, hands clasped in your lap. You looked straight out the windshield. “Yeah. … Birch.” Snow was beginning to swirl. The wind batted it about the parking lot in rolling drifts. The sun was setting, casting a pink-orange glow over the football field. Billy revved the engine, catching your attention. He chuckled at your reaction. Pulling off school property. “What the hell do you keep under that hood?” You sounded concerned. Billy smiled proudly. “You know cars?” “... I drive a Datsun” You answered dryly. He laughed. Maybe even louder than he intended. You were sort of funny. Billy made a right. “So…” You looked over at him, “So…?” “You lived in Hawkins forever?” He asked. You shook your head. “No. I moved here when I was nine.” He perked up. “Oh? Where’s the Firecracker really from?” “The Seattle-Tacoma area. Washington.” He made a left. Your street was three blocks away.
Billy didn’t think it was even possible that another west coaster would’ve been dumb enough to land themselves in this cowpie’s excuse of a town. And yet. Here you were.
“Why’d you move out to the sticks?” You shifted in your seat. Uneasy. “My uh… My Dad died. Mom has family out here.” Billy fell quiet. The car was decreasing in speed. There was a noticeable pause. “Sorry ‘bout that…” His hands were fidgeting on the steering wheel. “Don’t be.” You cleared your throat. “I’m so sick of ‘sorry’.” You took a breath. “Enough to last a lifetime.” You snapped to attention, “Ah, here.” You pointed. “This is me. Here.”
Billy pulled into your driveway. Your house was modest. Two-stories. Barely bigger than his own. Robin egg blue and white trim. Christmas lights were still decorating the shrubs and bushes. Snow gathering on top of them. They looked like marshmallows with rainbow sprinkles peeking through. There was a snowman in the front yard. It was crude. An old mop lopsided on its head. Bra and panties adorning its form. You sucked in wind.
Billy’s eyes were drinking in the whole scene. A few choice obscenities slipped from your lips. Billy looked at you. Mildly surprised. Those ones? You growled, “Petey, I swear to God…” “Petey?” Billy asked. “My kid brother.” You were exasperated. “We’re at war.” You explained. Amusement filled Billy’s features. “Some of Petey’s buds were teasing that I was his girlfriend.” You motioned to yourself, “clearly.” A sigh. “I leaned into it… he didn’t like that.” A small mischievous grin lit up your face. “He’s been taking the bus all month.” You were delighted. Billy chuckled. He hadn’t pegged you as a deviant. Billy looked back out the windshield. “That supposed to be you?” He motioned with two fingers, the remainder wrapped around the steering wheel. You glowered at the frosty being. “He probably thinks so.” Your nose wrinkled in irritation. “Gremlin.” The front door opened. Billy looked over. A boy with sandy blonde hair and glasses was standing in the doorway. He paused, looking at you and Billy. Sticking out his tongue, he flipped the bird with both hands. Billy snorted. That kid couldn’t have been much older than Max. You slumped in your seat. “He’ll be lucky to see tomorrow.” Laughing, Billy reached behind the seat retrieving your backpack. “What about your mom?” Billy asked. You took your backpack, grateful. “At work.” Putting a hand on the Camaro door, you popped the lock. “She works graves at Hawkins Memorial.” You slung your bag over a shoulder. “It’s just me and Petey most of the day.”
To Billy, the thought of having his father gone for nearly the entire day sounded like heaven. The look that lingered in your eyes. Told him otherwise. “Guess you gotta go then?” he asked. You nodded. You got out of the car carefully. Outstretching your arms so you wouldn’t slip. You walked around to the driver’s side. Billy rolled down the window.
Your cheeks were rouged. “Hey… thanks.” You felt very sheepish. Billy wore an easy smile. He waved your gratitude away with a casual hand. He pulled a cigarette from the carton in his breast pocket. Slotting it between his lips, he lit it. “Don’t mention it.” He mumbled.
“Saturday.” You blurted out. “Saturday?” He repeated. You nodded with a small smile. “Seven. … and after. You can help me figure out whether I should donate my car to the school lost and found.” A broad grin. His eyes lighting up. “Saturday. Seven.” “Yup.” You stepped back, giving him a small wave. He rolled up the window and backed out. Giving you two honks of the horn, he waved before driving off. Once his taillights were out of sight, you threw your head to the sky and yelled. “WHAT THE HELL PETEY!”
It seemed like Friday came and went in a flash. As predicted, a snow day was called. School was cancelled. You slept in, happily. You had no rushing around to do today. You spent most of the day shoveling out your driveway. A couple breaks were made so you and Petey could throw shovels full of snow at each other. And chasing him around for smashing snow in your face. The rest of the day was for reading and homework. For Petey? TV. Always TV. Which is exactly where he was at this moment. TV on. Petey was watching Dukes of Hazzard. The phone rang.
You were in the kitchen. Dinner was nearly ready. You set down the wooden spoon and picked up the phone. Putting a hand over the receiver, you yelled. “Petey keep it down!” “Yeah yeah yeah!” “(L/N) residence?” You answered. A drawl on the other end of the line. “Hey, Firecracker.” “Billy?!” The surprise was thick in your voice. “Yeh.” He huffed. You squinted. “How’d you get my number?” You could practically hear him shrugging over the phone. “Asked around…” “My number is unlisted.” You pressed. “I asked Tina. She asked Betty. Betty knows some girl that knows you. Natalie? I think.” He sounded far too happy with his detective skills.
“Poor Natalie.” You remorsed. She was your closest friend. But she would fold like a dollar bill in a hurricane when it came to keeping information private. That girl was the personification of a shrinking violet. By comparison she made you look actually outgoing. She wore dresses and listened to Franky Valli and Elvis. You wore denim and listened to anything you could get your hands on. She wore her hair in bows and ponytails. You kept your hair long and side swept. You disavowed the going trends for huge volume and hairspray. You hardly ever pulled your hair up. Aside from PE. She wore cardigans. You wore corduroy. She loved the 50s. You loved the 70s. The two of you couldn’t have been more different.
“You might owe her damages, Hargrove.” He laughed. “Maybe.” He cleared his throat. “Wanted to tell you to dress warm tomorrow night.” “Why?” You raised an eyebrow. “You taking us to the Overlook Hotel?” You couldn’t resist deviling him. He snorted. “Might if you keep it up.” “All work and no play makes Billy Hargrove a dull boy.” You recited. You could picture him. Smiling. One on your own lips. Absent-mindedly coiling your finger in the phone cord.
You peered around the corner and checked the time. “Looking forward to it. ‘Til then I gotta go. Dinner.” A soft huff. “K. See ya.” You hung up the phone. Turning back to the kitchen, Petey confronted you. Smug. Real smug. Brandishing the stirring spoon, you threatened him. “Shut up. Before I make you shut up.” Petey threw his head back laughing. “You gonna kiss him?” He teased. You pointed at the table. “Sit, Twerp.” You slapped the plates onto the table. Dishing veggies and meatloaf onto the dishes. “I just might.” You quipped. Giving him a larger portion of vegetables. “Ah, c’mon!” You smiled. “Y’know what?” You gasped. “You might even have to see it!” Petey looked utterly disgusted. Doubling over and dry heaving. “Uaggh!” You both laughed.
Saturday night arrived fast. Quicker than you thought.
You never would’ve pegged yourself as one of those girls who were indecisive. Yet here you were. Clothes strewn everywhere. The only thing you had decided on was your underwear. Because that wasn’t happening. You held up a sweater with your left hand. Switching you held up the sweater in your right.
Why is this such a process? Men. They have it so much easier.
It was nearly 6:34pm when you finally decided. A cream cable-knit sweater. You pulled it from the far back of your closet. It was lower cut than you typically liked, but you liked how the color warmed the tone of your skin and brought light to your eyes. It was perfect. You matched it as best you could with a pair of dark-washed straight leg jeans. And your favorite pair of boots. Blowing out your hair, you brushed the curls loose. You were generous but not sadistic with the hairspray. Soft. Bouncy. Sleek and shiny. Heather Locklear would be so proud if she knew.
The doorbell rang. Your heart skipped a beat.
Rushing into the hall, you leaned over the bannister. “Petey! PEEEETEY!” He answered from below, “yeah yeah yeah. I know!” He took a minute to watch the scene unfolding on the TV before he could pry himself away. You heard his voice. The front door closing. A soft laugh. Casual conversation. The deep timbre of Billy’s voice rising up from the living room. Mouth agape, you curled your lashes and applied mascara. He and Petey were talking about something… Hopefully Petey wasn’t selling you out. You placed small pearl studs on your ears. One last look.
It’s gonna have to be good enough. Here goes nothing.
It was the first date you’d been on in over two years.
Gingerly descending the staircase, you paused on the bottom step. Billy paused his chat with Petey. His eyes washed over you. Softening as his gaze met yours. “Beautiful.” He commented. You blushed. A coy smile. “Thanks.” Billy was wearing a steel blue button-down shirt. Only half-done up. Dark jeans. Black leather boots. A wool-lined black leather bomber jacket clutched in his left hand. “You don’t look so bad.” You complimented. Petey made an exaggerated gag. You shot him a look.
Fetching your winter coat from the closet, Billy held it as you put it on. You gave him an appraising look. “You said it was going to be cold.” “I did.” “So what’s with the shirt?” You pointed at his chest. Shrugging the jacket over his broad shoulders, Billy flicked his head in thought. “I dunno.” You waved goodbye to Petey. He shut the front door. “It’s just my look.” Billy was sincere. “It’s a damn good way to get frostbite.” You critiqued. “You didn’t grow up with snow. Did you?” Billy smiled. “Nah, not much snow.” He opened the Camaro passenger door for you. “Plenty of waves.” “Where’re you from again?” “California.” “Southern California.” He clarified. Closing your door, he got in on the driver’s side. The engine rumbled to life as he backed out of the driveway. “Ahhh.” Something clicked. Billy paused in the road. One eyebrow climbing. “So this whole thing…” You motioned at him, “This macho thing.” You paused thoughtfully. “Is just a Californian in deep denial.” Billy barked out a laugh. Lowering his foot to the accelerator, you headed off. “You’re a helluva smartass.” He observed. You smiled slyly. “Guilty.”
The drive was relatively short. Passing through town to the east. Billy turned off the country road and down a long drive. The glow of lights in the distance. He pulled up to McCorkle's Farm. They had been running a lights display and a small winter festival with some input from the city of Hawkins. The festival started shortly after Christmas. This was the last weekend of January it would be running.
A broad smile graced your lips. “Ah!” Happy surprise. “I’ve never had any time to see this. I always miss it.” Looking out the driver’s window, Billy exhaled so quietly that you almost missed it. He’d been hoping that you hadn’t already seen the festival. Every other girl at Hawkins High had been talking about it for weeks.
The festival was far from spectacular. It was quaint. Electric light displays in the shapes of snowflakes, reindeer, and snowmen were pinned to stacked hay bales. Lights hung everywhere. Woven around dormant bean poles and snaked through the fallow fields. Even the tractor had been decorated.
Billy approached you with two steaming cups of hot chocolate. You accepted one graciously. Blowing on it a couple times, you took a careful sip. You laughed. Billy raised an eyebrow. “What?” You took another sip. “We should have brought our own. This is mud.” Closing an eye, Billy peered at his cup suspiciously. He gave it a swirl. Taking a cautious sip. His face scrunched up. “Jesus.” Billy spat out a glop of cocoa mix. You laughed before you could even think about it. “I told you.” Billy looked at the swill, betrayed. “This ain’t cocoa.” “You think?” He poured the cup’s contents out on the snow. “This is radioactive waste.” You laughed harder. Handing him your cup, Billy tossed them both in a nearby oil drum. He shoved his hands in his pockets, chewing the inside of his cheek. “So…” You began. “Aside from the snow, how do you like Hawkins?” He shrugged, scuffing his boot in the snow. “S’okay. I guess.” “Bullshit.” You hummed. He looked at you surprised. A smug grin on your lips. “Everyone new here hates this place.” You explained. “If you were excited to be here, I’d be getting you a straightjacket.” You both giggled. “Yeh.” He sighed. He was drawing shapes with his toe.
“Do you miss it there?” You both started walking. He shrugged, shuffling his feet through the snow. “Sometimes.” He kicked away a frozen snowball. “Sun.” He paused. “Ocean.” He sniffed. “Good tacos.” You snorted. “Tacos?” “Good tacos.” He corrected you. “We’ve got tacos…” He shot you a sharp look. “Taco Palace doesn’t count.” You laughed. “That thing is an eyesore.” You pointed at a warped light display. You turned your head sideways. “What’s it supposed to be?” Billy tilted his head too. “Hawkins.” He said flatly. You cracked up. “Be serious.” “I am.” He mocked offense. “Look.” You both tilted your head in unison. “All messed up.” He pointed to one edge. “A whole bunch of nothin’.” “An eyesore.” You both laughed. Turning on your heel, you gave the display a dismissive wave. “Next year, we’ll go to the one in Gary.” Billy paused. You walked ahead. “Much better.” A small smile on his face. “Petey and I went with my aunt and uncle once...” You were rambling. “They had a sleigh. With horses. They were huge!” Billy had to catch up. “Cocoa? Much much better. Oh and elephant ears.” “Elephant ears?” He questioned. You looked at him like it was obvious. “Yeah, like the ones you get at the state fair.” His face was blank. You sighed. “It’s like pizza dough, but with sugar and cinnamon.” Recognition flashed across Billy’s features. “Fried dough?” “Elephant ears.” You corrected him. “Yah, it’s fried dough…” “That’s not what it’s called.” You laughed. He laughed. “Ok. Whatever.”
Critiquing the half-hazard decorations, you ambled through the rows of hay bales. Sharing stories about what winters were like in California and Washington. “Billy, that's not winter.” You frowned. “‘Course it is.” He was indignant. You chuffed. “Billy, no snow, no winter.” He looked at you hotly. “No leaves… Winter.” You stared at each other. You cracked, looking away and smiling. “That’s a weirdass winter.”
Before you knew it. Time has caught up with you. It was time to head home.
Settling into the Camaro, Billy turned on the engine. Letting the car warm up. “What did ya think?” He asked tentatively. “That was great!” You hummed happily. Your cheeks were still pink from the cold. “Good.” “So glad I came.” You mumbled to yourself. Billy smiled softly. Turning on the headlights, the Camaro’s beams washed over a small group of tweens. In the road. Staring at you. Staring at the car. Billy smirked. Putting his foot down, he tested the accelerator. The engine revved.
VROOM VRRRROOOM VRRROOM.
Their eyes went wide and the tweens scattered. You bit your lip. “Billy, that's not funny.” Liar. It was funny. He grinned. “Sure.” He didn’t believe you.
Arriving at your house, Billy killed the engine. He got out and opened the passenger door for you. “I had a really great time.” You smiled brightly. “Glad to hear.” An undertone of pride in his voice. Stepping from the vehicle, Billy shut the door after you. You locked eyes. Blushing, you shoved your hands in your pockets. “I’ll see you on Monday.” You started heading for the porch. Billy grabbed your wrist, pulling you back. You blinked in confusion. He smiled. “Forgetting somethin’?” He reeled you in. “C’mere.”
Arms wrapped around you, he kissed you. Instinctively, you braced your hands against his chest. You were shocked. Your heart was thundering. It had been so long since you kissed anyone. Was this right? It didn’t feel that way.
Don’t fuck this up. The night was perfect. Don’t ruin it.
He moved, pulling you in closer. Brushing his lips against your softly. You were frozen. Hands gripping his shirt. Holding on. It felt like he was impossibly close. You felt like you were suffocating. The panic was rising. His kisses grew more confident. More certain.. Your stomach bottomed out. Cold flooding your veins. You pressed against him. “B-.” You tried to speak. He didn’t hear you. Wrapped up in the moment. You couldn’t stand it. You needed to get away. You shoved him. Billy stumbled back against the Camaro. “St-stop.” You cried weakly. He looked shocked. You avoided his eyes. You were near tears. You needed to calm down. His eyes never left you for a second. “G-...good night.” You pulled your coat tight around you. He looked like you had slapped him. You turned, looking back from the porch. Billy was in the Camaro. Hastily, he pulled away. The engine revved, shifting gears. He sped off. Without a word.
