I can be chill (i swear) loverboy & his overthinker ♡ • fluff • pre-relationship
♡ 9:59 p.m — steve’s couch, his leg far too close to yours. you’re chill. you’re cool. you’re definitely not spiralling. not even a little bit.
You’re trying to be normal about this. Really, you are. Promise.
The night had started with the whole gang, but slowly they’d filtered out. Nancy and Robin claiming early mornings, but you worked with the latter and knew she had the next two days off. Mike and Will trailing reluctantly after them, Dustin and Lucas already halfway into Eddie’s van—leaving you by the door. Thinking it was your cue to go too.
Until Steve lingered, a quiet “you can stay, if you want” with a brief touch to your arm that you’re definitely not still thinking about…
And now you’re on his couch. Less than a cushion width away.
Sitting next to him like your heart isn’t doing something stupid, like you’re not hyper-aware of every inch between you, like you’re not thinking about whether you should lean in or wait or say something or—
“Why are you sitting like that?” Steve asks.
You go completely still. You don't even blink. “Like what?”
“Like you’re being held at gunpoint.”
Shit. He noticed.
Well, you can’t really blame him—with the way your shoulders are too tight, your hands folded so carefully in your lap like they might betray you; honestly, you’d judge him more if he didn’t.
But he doesn’t look away.
His eyes trace over you, slowly, a smile—almost a smirk—tugging at his mouth, but it’s soft, tender, and even through the noise in your head you know it’s not mocking.
“Relax,” he says, softer this time. “I’m not that scary, am I?”
That’s not the problem.
The problem is that he’s Steve, and you like him, and suddenly everything feels like it matters too much—where you sit, what you say, whether his knee brushing yours is accidental or not. So yes—maybe, in a way, he is.
Scary.
Terrifying, even.
He shifts, his leg brushing yours and not moving away; you make a weird choking noise before you can stop it. You think you say no, but your thoughts are already slipping out of reach as he playfully knocks his shoulder into yours.
“See?” he murmurs, quieter now, still with that little smirk-smile, like he’s talking you down from something you’re not sure he even understands. “You’re okay.”
You nod. Too quick. Way too obvious.
You are not okay. Not in the slightest.
Because now all you can think about is the weight of his leg against yours, the warmth of it, the way he hasn’t moved away. If anything, he leans in a little more, shoulder nudging yours, casual—like this is normal. Like this is easy. Because, well, it should be.
You’re just a girl sitting next to a guy she really, really likes, who’s wearing a stupidly fitted polo, which usually you wouldn’t look twice at—but it’s Steve, and Steve could rock a bin bag and still look unfairly good.
And you’re trying—you really are—to act like it is. Normal.
But your brain won’t shut up.
Don’t move. If you move, it’ll be weird. If you don’t move, it’s also weird. Say something. No, don’t say something—that’ll make it worse—
“Hey,” Steve says suddenly (probably only sudden to you, as you’ve been staring at the same point on the wall for at least two minutes), nudging you softly again. “You even watching?”
You blink, dragged back into reality, trying to pretend you never left. “Of course I am.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, his body angled fully towards you. “Yeah? Then what just happened?”
Your mouth opens. Nothing comes out. You’ve been caught… once again.
His smile softens, a little more amused than teasing. “Thought so.”
And just like that, he starts describing the movie to you, head tilted towards you—and although your mind never fully switches off, the sound of Steve’s voice definitely helps.
loverboy steve masterlist ♡
P.S. introducing loverboy's overthinker. I am her. She is me.
