𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 • Steve Harrington

Chapter 11

( Sunday, January 27th 1985 )

SITTING out back in the shop, Steve in a blue striped polo and jeans, Julie in a white blouse tucked into some thickly-belted jeans, they sat back at either side of the room on plastic chairs and tossed a rubber band ball back and forth that Steve found under the cash register earlier. They were both in dark green aprons, Steve on his usual weekend shift whilst Julie covered for her mom. Scott was driving her a little out of town to meet his parents.

Julie spent all morning helping her mother decide what to wear. She eventually settled on a baby blue button down, khaki slacks and pastel striped sweater vest. Julie wasn't sure she had seen her mother that stressed before in all her life.

"That reminds me. About Heidi, she was only here because I might have told my friends that my mom employed you and word must of got around fast."

"That's why there were so many random girls showing up yesterday," Steve pieces together. He tossed the ball back to her.

"There are ladies killing to be the next piece of candy on your arm because of me." She tossed it back to him. "You're welcome, by the way." He tossed it back to her. "I knew this would happen."

And she tossed the ball back to him, just as the hanging bell rang.

Steve's face fell in contrast to Julie's small smirk. "That's your cue."

He sighed, standing begrudgingly as he edged towards the door.

"Wait," Julie stands, heading over to him.

"What?" he turns around.

She wasn't looking at his face, but his dark hair. He had brushed the fluffy mass of it back, the product in it sustaining its volume, yet she couldn't help but notice there wasn't the usual wisps of a curl hanging on his forehead. So, alternatively she pulled out a few short stands and all Steve did was watch.

He watched the way her eyebrows cinched and her teeth gnawed on her bottom lip as she concentrated, all up until she retracted her hand and surveyed the results with the slight tilt of her head.

"Better?" he asked.

She smiled contently. "Much. Knock 'em dead, tiger." She tapped him on the back, letting him angle towards the door.

But he didn't get much further than a step forward before she called him back again.

"Oh, and..." she held out her hand towards him.

Steve only looked at it confusedly. "What?"

"The ball, smartass."

Steve looked at the rubber band ball in his clutch at his side. "Oh, right. Thanks." He sat it in her palm instead and turned around, heading for the doorway.

She turned around, too, sitting herself back down when she heard Steve ecstatically exclaim, "Henderson! The hell are you doing here?"

"I didn't know the number of this place so I thought I'd ride here and see you in action." It sounded like a nasally twelve-year-old boy. "Surprise!"

"Believe me, I've never been happier to see you." Steve truly did sound relieved.

"Aw," the young kid coos.

"Even if you did swear you'd never show up and see me like this."

"It's just an apron."

"Yeah, I know, but the work life and the private life always stay separate. It's the way of the world, man."

"Well, I needed to ask you if you'd take me to see Fandango—"

"No," Steve interjected decidedly.