"So? What do you think?"
Michelle glanced from Steve's eager face back down at the essay in her hands. 'Steve Harrington' was written messily at the top of the page in the righthand corner, just like Michelle taught him. The essay was better than the last but not perfect yet. Michelle felt the urge to write it for him and save Steve the trouble. She was very well aware of how much Steve tended to struggle with things like this and it hurt to see him when she told him to change aspects of the essay he had poured himself over for hours. Steve managed the 'you just kicked my puppy' look very well.
"You're improving," Michelle replied with a grin, laying her head on Steve's shoulder as she showed him some of the sections she had marked, red ink dripping down the pages slowly. "I'm so proud of you! Just change these few things and you'll be set for college applications."
Michelle handed the essay back over to Steve and turned the radio up a little. Duran Duran trickled through the stereo. Michelle bobbed her head along, jostling Steve's shoulder in the process. He didn't mention it, just moved with her as he read over the notes.
How she was going to survive Hawkins High without Steve there, Michelle didn't know. He had been her rock since the eighth grade when they had to do a project together and didn't stop talking long after the assignment had been handed in. Steve became King Steve in high school, surrounding himself with friends who weren't really friends. Michelle was scared that Steve would forget about her but she seemed to be the exception to the rule. Never ignored her in hallways, hung out with her after school much to Carol and Tommy's dismay, and came to her for love advice about Nancy Wheeler which didn't work out in the end but Michelle felt honoured he sought out her guidance anyways.
Honoured with a smidge of jealousy.
Steve was her best friend, though, so she wasn't allowed to think of him that way. Not in any way that isn't strictly platonic.
And yet...
Steve was sitting close, his cologne filling her nose until she became aware of nothing but the boy next to her. His head landed on top of hers as he made notes next to her own, hair tickling her nose whenever he moved. It was intoxicating but it was only intoxicating for her.
Michelle pulled back quickly, earning herself a confused look from Steve. "We'll be late," she lied, pointing at her watch. They had plenty of time left, they both knew it, and yet Steve nodded and followed her out of the car for her sake. He probably figured that it was Michelle's anxiety again that bubbled up sometimes. He was a saint, the best person Michelle had in her life, someone nobody deserved because nobody's good enough for Steve Harrington. He deserved only the best and she wasn't that.
Far from it really.
The sun shone down on them, warming the top of Michelle's dark hair. Her olive skin usually browned more during the summer but she was still awfully pale. Well, pale for a brown girl. Her soft yellow oversized dress-shirt still suited her skin. Michelle bent over to pull her white socks up a little, and her short shorts down.
Steve wrapped an arm around Michelle the second she was standing again; always too close, never close enough. Michelle saw that what they were doing wasn't strictly platonic. The touches, the looks, wearing Steve's shirts, cheering him on at his games, him sneaking in through her bedroom window to listen to mixtapes together. It's a friendship but that doesn't seem to encompass everything building between them. Calling it a friendship actually does it a disservice.
Michelle turned to Steve to ask if she looked presentable but he was already lost in thought, staring at her as though he was debating whether he should say what he was about to say or not.
