Welcome To Hawkins

8

My hair drips as I tower over my suitcase, one of the white towels tightly wrapped around my hips. What do you wear to a barbeque? Pushing around the shirts and pants, I'm about to give up, overwhelmed by the situation and the clothing, when the door clicks.

(y/n) walks in, adverting her eyes immediately, "Oh..." She turns, "Sorry, I was just checking if you were coming--"

"No, wait--" I grab for her wrist, "What should I wear?"

She fidgets for a moment, her eyes avoiding my person completely. Why was she so nervous?

"Uhm--" (y/n) moves around me, assessing the jumbled clothing, "How about this?" She holds up jeans and a dark red button-down shirt.

I look at the clothes and then back at her, "So much red. Why did you buy so much red?"

(y/n) holds the fabric up in front of me, "Because it looks nice on you. Compliments your eyes."

Normally, I would tease her for a comment like this, but I'm so caught off guard by her that the only words I can get out are, "You were thinking of my eyes when you were shopping?"

"I guess..." Her eyes dart down to her feet, "I said I'd help my mom with dinner. So, I should probably go do that now..."

"Uh, thank you..." I try to fight the warmth that comes to my cheeks.

(y/n) pauses, "For what?"

I shrug, "I don't know. I mean--" the flush escalates on my cheeks, "I don't know. Just thank you."

She smiles, finally meeting my eyes, "You're welcome, I guess."

My stomach flip-flops, trying to hide the goofy smile on my face as she leaves the room.

Dressing quickly, I run the towel through my wet hair till it's only slightly damp. Taking a deep breath to calm the residue of emotions, I walk through the house to the kitchen where (y/mn) is chopping a head of lettuce.

She looks up from the, smiling, "I hope you like steak, Eddie."

Nodding, I smile back, "Oh, yeah. Who doesn't? Uh-- Do you need any help--?"

"No, no, dear. But could you bring out those place mats? (y/n) probably could use the help setting the table."

"Sure," I pick up the stack of placemats, opening the sliding glass door leading to the (y/ln)'s picture-perfect backyard.

Ken and (y/dn) stand by the grill, talking loudly, while (y/n) and Steve stand by the table.

She's talking to Steve, a large smile on her face. My stomach drops, and I feel like the stupid teenager I used to be, in love with the prom queen with a boyfriend. I'm seriously messing this up for (y/n), who could have a life here with Steve.

I look away, feeling foolish for feeling jealous. What the fuck did I have to feel jealous for? That wasn't my girlfriend... not for real anyway.

Snap out of it! I tell myself before confidently striding toward my friend. Reaching the table, I set the placemats down, pulling (y/n) into my arms. If I had to pretend, I'd do a damn good job of it.

She makes a surprised noise as I pull her back against my chest, hands landing comfortably around her middle, her hands grasping onto my forearms to steady herself.

Grinning at Steve victoriously, I place my chin on the top of her head, "So, Steve. You never told me what you do."

Steve's eyes glance down at where (y/n)'s hands are touching my arms before he looks back up at me, "Uh--I work for my dad in sales."

"What? How long?" (y/n) asks.

Steve grins, "Why so surprised, (y/n)? Didn't we always plan for that?"

(y/n)'s laughed is forced, "Maybe you did, Steve. But you know I never wanted to stay in Hawkins."

Steve chuckles, running a hand through the back of his hair, "Yeah, yeah. You and your big dreams."

I feel (y/n) stiffen against me. Did this guy know her at all?

"(y/n)'s climbed the ranks at her job pretty quickly," I interject, "Assistant manager only after a few months working there. She'll probably work at their headquarters in a year or two. She's a pro. Always knows exactly what you're looking for before you do." I press a kiss on her cheek just because I can because I'm her-- fake boyfriend.

(y/n) laughs, "I hope so."

"You will. They'd be stupid not to promote you." I'm being completely sincere as I speak. Out of everyone I've ever known, (y/n) is the most likely to succeed at whatever she puts her mind to.

"Really?" Steve focuses back on (y/n), "Wow, (y/n). That's really great. I'm sure your dad's over the moon."

(y/n) looks flustered for a moment before nodding, "I guess so."

"(y/n)!" (y/mn) pokes her head out of the door, "Can you come help me for a second?"

"Yes!" (y/n) yells back, moving my arms from her. Before she can run off, I turn her towards me, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her lips.

"What was that for?" She whispers.

"Just because I can," I whisper back, not breaking eye contact. I don't know what I'm proving or who I'm proving it to, but I need this right now.

(y/n)'s eyebrows furrow for a second before she ducks away.

A moment of awkward silence washes over, Steve breaking it by clearing his throat.

"So... how long have you two--?" He makes an outward motion with his hand.

"Gone out? Right around eight months." Eight's a good number. An even number.

He nods, getting quiet as he puts his hand on my shoulder, shaking it lightly, "Listen, (y/n)'s one of the good ones. I hope you realize that and don't mess it up like I did. She-- she deserves a good life."

Taken aback by his comment, I bluntly ask, "Wait... I thought you--?"

Steve chuckles, "It's pretty obvious she's in love with you."