FIXATION

TWENTY-ONE

WARNING!
THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

TWENTY-ONE: THE SHIFT
november 10th, 1984

That night, the Nightmares start for Rosalie.

It's the same ending. Dart chasing after her, grabbing her by the leg and digging into her flesh. She can't run fast enough. Sometimes she's at the junkyard or the upside down or even the tunnels. When she wakes up in a cold sweat for the third time that night, she isn't sure what she says to Steve when he picks up the phone or what he says but she hears him loud and clear when he said that he's on his way.

She's sitting on her front porch, mid-yawn when Steve pulls up. It's somewhere between two and three o'clock in the morning so her neighborhood is quiet and there's an early autumn chill that blows into Steve's car when she settles in the passenger seat. The two speak at the same time.

"Thanks for coming."

"I like your hair."

Now Rosalie grins, her arms that wrapped around her unfold so her right fingers can skim the four corn rows that started at the crown of her head and went back to the middle of her hair. The rest of her curls hand around her face in the usual mane-like fashion. "Thanks, my cousin is teaching me how to French braid," his eyes remain on her hair for a little longer before they trail to her face and the light in his eyes dims momentarily.

"Nightmares, huh?" He sighs, as if knowing all too well what images were keeping her from a good night's rest.

She nods, exhausted then leans back in the chair rubbing her eyes and hopefully the chilling image of Dart ripping her to shreds. The memory sends a chill down her spine so she opens her eyes so she can think of anything but that. "They're awful. I haven't had much, really. But ever since I started..," she stops herself from finishing her sentence: reading minds and see into the Upside Down. He leans forward, wanting her to continue. She bites the inside of her cheek to lie, "..since I started to think more about the whole night.. the feeling lingers."

This time when he nods he doesn't look at her, but instead he turns his car back on and drives down the road. She keeps her hoodie pressed into her firmly, with the help of her arms and seat belt so when she rolls down the window it cools the burn of her fear away. Then Steve suggests, "we could drive around 'til the feelings gone. Keeping my mind busy usually helps when I can't sleep.. or don't want to sleep."

The radio is off so he doesn't have to strain when she turns ever so slightly to bat her eyelashes at him, "I was hoping you might have some other ideas for how I could keep my mind busy.. or my hands..," she reaches over shocking the hell out of herself and no doubt Steve as her finger trails up his shoulder before curling around his bicep. When his eyes finally meet hers she asks, "can we go back to your place?"

He chokes out a laugh. There's a hum and she hears his outrageous thinking, she bootycalled me! "Rosalie Robinson, did you orchestrate a bootycall? All on your own?" She can't ignore the look of impression that bleeds across Steve's face or the loud thoughts facing through his head, this is going to be so much fun.

Her hand pulls away from him, semi-guilty that she was invading his thoughts so casually now. Before the guilty feeling can linger too long she shrugs innocently, "I have no idea what you're talking about." In all honesty she hadn't been planning on anything physical happening when she originally called. But that all changed when she got into his car and saw the bed-mess-but-tamed thickness that was Steve's hair. She had to ball her fists at her sides to keep from running her fingers through it. "But yes, I guess it is a bootycall, in a way. I really do need the distraction." Her eyes dart back to him, "is that okay?"