you keep telling yourself that as you stand on the sidewalk with the rest of the group, neon lights bleeding from the bar windows behind you, laughter spilling out in uneven bursts. the next crawl isnât for another day or two, which means thereâs nothing to do but hover. wait. pretend youâre not hyperaware of where everyone is standing.
especially steve.
steve Harrington is leaning against his car, arms crossed, keys dangling from his fingers. he looks casual in the way only he ever manages to pull offâlike he didnât spend ten minutes fixing his hair in the bathroom mirror before coming out. like heâs not checking his watch every sixty seconds.
your ex, johnathan, laughs too loud at something someone says. his arm is slung easily around her shoulders now, like itâs always belonged there. like that doesnât still sting.
you swallow, forcing your gaze away.
âyou okay?â steve asks, voice low enough that only you hear it.
you glance at him, startled. heâs closer than he was a second ago. you hadnât noticed him move.
âyeah,â you lie, then soften it. âi meanâyeah. just⌠waiting.â
he nods like he understands. because he does. because his ex is standing ten feet away, laughing with yours like this was always inevitable. like the universe has a cruel sense of humor.
thereâs a beat of silence between you. thick. buzzing.
âwe could⌠not wait here,â steve says finally, rubbing the back of his neck. nervous habit. youâve started to recognize them.
you raise an eyebrow. âwhat, ditch the group?â
ânot ditch,â he says quickly, a smile tugging at his mouth. âjust⌠take a lap. kill some time. weâve got plenty of time, plus i have my walkie in case they need usâ he says playfully.Â
you hesitate, eyes flicking back to the group. to the way johnathan barely glances your way anymore. to how nancy doesnât look at him at all.
âyeah,â you say before you can overthink it. âokay.â
he opens the passenger door for you like itâs second nature. you slide in, heart doing something traitorous in your chest as he closes it gently, like youâre fragile. like this moment is.
the car smells like himâclean laundry, a hint of cologne, something warm and familiar. the radio hums softly when he turns the key, some late-night rock station crackling through the speakers.
as he pulls away from the curb, you catch a glimpse of the group in the side mirror. someone notices you leaving. someone doesnât.
the streetlights blur together as hawkins stretches out in front of you, quieter the farther you go. steve rolls the windows down halfway, cool air rushing in, tangling your hair.
âhope this is okay,â he says, glancing at you. âi just figured⌠it might be less weird if we werenât all just standing there.â
you huff a soft laugh. âless weird than our exes dating each other?â
he winces. âyeah. that.â
another pause. not awkward. just full.
âfor what itâs worth,â he adds, eyes on the road, âiâm really glad you said yes.â
your chest tightens. âyeah, me too.â
he takes a turn you donât expect, heading out of town.
âwhere are we going?â you ask.
âyouâll see,â he says, grin slipping back into place.
the road winds upward, trees thinning until the town lights glow below you like scattered stars. steve pulls off near the hills overlooking hawkins, parking where the grass is flattened from years of people doing exactly this.
he hops out first, jogging around to your side to open the door again. âgentlemanly habit,â he says when you smile at him.
âiâm not complaining.â
the night air is cooler up here. quieter. the world feels far away in a way that makes your shoulders finally drop.
steve pops the trunk and pulls out a small blanket, a paper bag, and two sodas. he freezes when he realizes youâre watching him.
âi swear this wasnât, like, planned,â he says quickly. âi justâkeep this stuff back here sometimes.â
âsometimes,â you echo, amused.
he shrugs. âyou never know.â
he spreads the blanket out, smoothing it with his hands like he wants it perfect. you sit beside him, knees almost touching. almost.
the paper bag holds sandwiches from the gas station on main. nothing fancy. still warm.
âi know itâs not much,â he says.
you shake your head. âitâs perfect.â
and it is. because itâs quiet. because itâs just you and him and the hum of the town below. because no one else is here to complicate it.
you eat slowly, talking about nothing and everything. work. music. how weird it is seeing familiar places at night. steve makes you laugh until your stomach hurts, and you donât remember the last time that happened so easily.
eventually, conversation drifts. the space between you shrinks without either of you noticing. your shoulder brushes his arm. his knee nudges yours.
âcan i ask you something?â steve says, voice softer now.
you nod. âyeah.â
âdoes this feel⌠strange to you?â he asks. âus, i mean.â
you consider it. the obvious answer would be yes. the complicated answer is something else entirely.
âit feels⌠new,â you say carefully. âand a little scary. but not wrong.â
he exhales like heâs been holding his breath. âyeah. thatâsâyeah. thatâs it.â
steve watches you, something hopeful flickering across his face. âwe should probably head back soon.â
âyeah,â you agree. neither of you moves.
the silence shifts. heavier now. charged.
steve turns toward you, bracing one arm behind him on the blanket. âcan iââ
you donât let him finish.
your hand finds his wrist first. grounding. then his jaw. warm. familiar, even though it shouldnât be yet.
his breath stutters when you lean in.
âyou okay?â he whispers, forehead brushing yours.
you nod, heart hammering. âyeah.â
the kiss starts soft. hesitant. like youâre both afraid this might be crossing some invisible line. his lips are warm, gentle, like heâs trying not to rush it.
then something gives.
his hand slides to your waist, fingers curling into your jacket. you kiss him deeper, slower, feeling the way he melts into it. the way he sighs against your mouth.
itâs not rushed. itâs not desperate. itâs intentional.
his thumb brushes your hip, sending a spark straight up your spine. you shift closer without thinking, knees fully touching now. his other hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, grounding you.
you break apart only when you need air, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling.
âwe should stop,â he murmurs, even as he doesnât pull away.
âyeah,â you agree, not moving.
he laughs quietly, breathless. âyouâre kind of dangerous, you know that?â
you smile. âtakes one to know one.â
he kisses you again. deeper this time. hungrier. still careful. his hand slides into your hair, gentle but firm, like he wants to remember exactly how this feels.
when you finally pull back, your lips are swollen, your heart racing. steve looks at you like youâve just changed his entire world.
âokay,â he says, clearing his throat. âyeah. we should definitely head back now before i forget how to act normal.â
you laugh, standing and brushing off the blanket. âgood plan.â
as you walk back to the car, his hand finds yours. casual. natural. like itâs always been there.
down below, hawkins waits. the group waits. reality waits.
but for now, in this small pocket of night, itâs just the two of youâand the promise of something thatâs only just beginning.
âââââââââ
a few weeks is all it takes for something to become a habit.
not a bad one. not a dangerous one. just⌠inevitable.
it started small. stolen glances across the room. steveâs hand brushing yours when he passes by. the way you both somehow always end up walking a few steps behind the group, like gravity is gently pulling you together and youâre both pretending not to notice.
and then thereâs the van.
the WSQK van is not romantic by any stretch of the imagination. it smells faintly like old coffee, dust, and whatever cleaner someone used once in 1974 and never again. the seats are cracked vinyl, the floor permanently sticky in places no one can explain.
but itâs private.
and apparently, thatâs all you need.
the first time it happens, itâs an accident. youâre both sent out to grab something from the vanâsteve volunteering before anyone else can, you following because youâre already standing. the door slides shut behind you with a heavy thud, sealing you in.
thereâs a second of silence.
then steve looks at you, really looks at you, and smiles in that way that feels like a secret.
âweâve got, like⌠two minutes,â he says quietly.
you donât even answer. you just lean closer.
after that, it becomes your place.
any chance you getâfive minutes before a meeting, ten minutes after everyone else heads inside, a quick break when no oneâs paying attentionâyou end up pressed together in the back of that van. kissing slow and deep, steveâs hands warm at your waist, your fingers hooked into the collar of his jacket.
it never goes further than that. not because you donât want it toâbecause you both doâbut because thereâs something about the way this feels that makes you want to keep it careful.Â
like if you rush it, it might shatter.
so you kiss. you smile. you laugh softly into each otherâs mouths.
you learn the little things.
like how steve always hums without realizing it when heâs happy. how he pulls back just enough to look at you, like heâs checking that this is real. how he rests his forehead against yours afterward, breathing slow, grounding himself.
and how he always, always opens the van door first, peeking out like a lookout before holding his hand out for you.
âladies first,â he says every time.
you roll your eyes. you take his hand anyway.
by the time he suggests ice cream, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
âcome on,â steve says one afternoon, keys already in hand. âplease tell me youâre not gonna say no to ice cream.â
you tilt your head. âdepends.â
he gasps. dramatic. offended. âon what?â
âon if youâre buying.â
he grins. âi was already planning on it.â
âââ
the drive to the ice cream parlor is easy. comfortable. the windows are down, music low, the sun starting to dip just enough to turn everything gold.Â
steve taps the steering wheel in time with the song, glancing at you every so often like he still canât believe youâre sitting there.
âwhat?â you ask when you catch him.
he shrugs. ânothing. just⌠youâre really pretty.â
heat crawls up your neck. âyouâre really bad at being subtle.â
he laughs. âyeah. i know.â
the parlor is busy when you get thereâfamilies, kids from school, the bell over the door chiming nonstop. itâs loud and sticky and bright in a way that feels distinctly hawkins.
steve orders first, leaning over the counter like heâs known the guy scooping the ice cream his whole life. you watch him talk with his hands, animated, charming without trying.
âwhatâre you getting?â he asks.
âoh strawberry for sure,â you say without hesitation.
âof course you are,â he replies, like that tells him everything heâs ever needed to know about you.
you both end up outside, sitting on the low brick wall, ice cream sweating in your hands. steveâs knee presses against yours, casual and warm.
âthis might be my favorite thing weâve done,â he says between bites.
you smile. âthe vanâs gonna be offended.â
âthe van knows what it did,â he says seriously, then grins when you laugh.
youâre mid-spoonful when you feel itâthat shift in the air. that sense of being watched.
you look up first.
and freeze.
âoh my god,â dustin says, standing a few feet away, eyes wide, mouth half-open. âwhat.â
lucas stands beside him, brows furrowed, glancing between you and steve like heâs trying to solve a math problem he didnât study for.
steve nearly drops his cone.
âhey,â he says, way too casual. âuh. guys.â
dustinâs eyes flick to the way steveâs arm is clearly resting behind you on the wall. to the way youâre leaning into him without even realizing it.
âhold on,â dustin says, holding up a finger. âno. wait. no.â
lucas squints. âare you twoâŚ?â
thereâs a beat.
steve looks at you, a silent question in his eyes.
he smiles, soft and unguarded, and turns back to them. âyeah.â
dustin stares. âyou? and you?â
âyep.â
âsince when?â
steve shrugs. âuhh..â his voice going up an octave, âa few weeks ago,â he saws awkwardly,Â
âi thought you werenât her type,â dustin blurts out.
you snort before you can stop yourself.
steve looks personally wounded. âwow. okay. rude.â
lucas scratches his head. âi justâwait. is that why youâve both been disappearing all the time?â
âprobably,â you say.
lucasâs eyes widen. âoh.â
âoh,â dustin echoes, realization hitting him full force. âOH.â
he looks between you again, then breaks into a grin. âwow. i did NOT see that coming.â
steve tilts his head, slightly offended, âhenderson you know? i taught you everything you know,â he glares playfully,Â
dustin shakes his head. he pauses, then smiles softer. âyou guys look⌠happy.â
steveâs expression shifts, something warm and earnest settling in. âyeah. we are.â
lucas nods. âcool. cool, cool. makes sense.â
âit does?â you ask.
âyeah,â he says. ânow that i think about it. like⌠a lot of sense.â
dustin sighs dramatically. âgreat. another couple.â
steve laughs. ârelax. weâre still cool.â
âbetter be,â dustin says, then grins. âso. can i get a bite of that?â
you hold your spoon out without thinking. steve watches the whole thing, smiling like his heart might actually burst.
later, when youâre walking back to the car, steveâs hand slips into yours. natural. easy.
âyou okay?â he asks.
âyeah,â you say. âare you?â
he nods. âyeah. kinda feels nice not hiding.â
you squeeze his hand. âyeah.â
and for the first time in weeks, you donât feel like youâre sneaking.
you feel like youâre exactly where youâre supposed to be.
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