Middle Fingers Up // Billy Hargrove x Reader

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑾𝑬𝑵𝑻𝒀-𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑬

Billy's eyes drink in the sight of you, taking his time as he looks you over. "You look beautiful," He compliments, offering you his hand. You take it and kick yourself for the way your stomach flutters at how he looks at you. Keep your cool, (Y/N). You don't need a man to validate you and tell you what you already know.

"I know." You tease, slipping your hand into his and using the other to close and lock the door behind you. He didn't look so bad himself, you admit. His pale blue shirt with the top buttons separated, as always, showed off the glisten of the chain around his neck that you'd not paid much attention to before. He wore dark jeans and a denim jacket, his palm warm against your own as he led you to his car and propped open the passenger seat for you.

"I can get my own door." You remind him, though slip into the car anyway. It had been a long while since you sat in this car, but it felt exactly the same as the last time. He gets in and starts the car, a smile a permanent fixture on those lips - those same lips that had been on you last night, you recall with a flush of your cheeks.

"So where are we going?" You ask.

"On a date," He jests, raising his brows to let you know you weren't going to draw it out from him. You eye him with a narrow look, attempting to hide your amusement about how adorable you found the childish excitement glinting in his eye.

He had this relaxed air about him, like he was floating on the clouds and proud to be here, so you let him have his fun. For now, at least.

Eventually, he pulls up outside a restaurant and hurries over to open your door for you, despite your admonishing of the action earlier. "Thank you," you grumble anyway as you get out of the car, clearing your throat. 

You knew he was just trying to be a gentleman, but you couldn't help not liking something like that. You weren't made of glass and were perfectly capable of doing things for yourself. But you bite your tongue and lace your fingers through his own as he guides you through the restaurant doors.

Enzo's it was called and looked way too fancy for people like you two. When you step inside, there's scattered glances from the wealthy occupants and you can see a few muttering judgmental comments beneath their breaths.

You wanted to drive silverware into their eyes, but refrain since going to prison wasn't exactly a life goal yet.

Billy confirms his reservation with the guy at the front and he shows you to your table. Your shoulders were tense under the glares of the other guests, eyeing your outfit and whispering to one another after.

God, this wasn't going to be pretty if they kept doing that. You stare a few of them into submission, not satisfied until your glare makes them look away, but eventually they look back and you weren't sure what to do. It made you feel embarrassed and stripped bare.

"You okay?" Billy asks, still grinning and apparently unaware of the fact you both stuck out like a sore thumb in a place like this. "Yeah, fine..." You're given menus and you skim over it if only to mask your expression from the blonde before you. It was for far more expensive tastes than yours and you felt a deep disappointment beginning to settle over you.

This place, this whole thing was so opposite to everything that you liked. Did Billy honestly think you'd feel comfortable here? Being wined and dined with the wealthy residents of Hawkins that you so often mocked? 

It felt like a date meant for another girl, and that's when you realise that it feels like that because  it was meant for another girl. He must have done this same date a hundred times, but hey-- if it works, right? Wrong. 

You tried - you really did try - to keep your attitude in check, but the more you thought about it, the more the notion made sense. He took you here because in his mind, this date always worked for him so why wouldn't it work on you too?