Eddie Munson has finally graduated Hawkins high school and has his whole life ahead of him. Having had such a hard time graduating, Eddie struggles to find his place in the world and what his next big move in life should be. Along the way he meets A...
A week had gone by and I hadn't heard anything from Eddie. I had seen him come and go a few times from his trailer and waved when I caught his attention, earning a wave in reply. But we haven't spoken since that incident on my porch, or rather that non-incident. I've mentally chastised myself so many times since then for being such a chicken, but if I really thought about it, I was still scared. There is so much going on in my life right now and I wasn't sure if I was ready to jump into more unnecessary drama, even if that drama came with Eddie Munson.
I will give him credit though; he was making my resolve quite difficult to hold on to. On multiple occasions I would wake up in the morning and try to enjoy a cup of coffee on my porch only to find him in his yard, shirtless and working under the hood of his van. I would scald my lips on the hot bean water as I shamelessly ogled at his sweat covered chest, noting his tattoos and lean muscles. I would then go inside and take a cold shower and bang my forehead repeatedly against the shower wall, mentally cursing myself for not kissing him when I had the chance.
Otherwise, my life carried on. I got the job bartending at The Avenue and I was actually pretty good at it. I would get a good number of tips each night and I was already starting to get used to the regulars. Who knew having alcoholic parents would eventually pay off? I actually liked the uniform as well. I got to wear black leather pants and I either had to wear a crop top tank top with "The Avenue" written across it or I could wear any decorative bra or bralette I wanted. The owner was a real sleaze and Eddie may have only slightly been joking about the boob bit when he recommended the job, but it didn't bother me too terribly much. My grandfather had taught me how to handle myself and I planned to do so.
For work tonight, I paired my leather pants with a rhinestone covered black bra. I also clipped dainty silver chains around my mid-section and put on a silver choker. Lastly, I put on my silver name necklace so the drunks could stop asking me ten million times and that way I didn't have to poke a hole in my bra with my name badge clip. The bralette showed off my chest tattoo and it typically got a lot of compliments and actually got me a lot of tips. I got it when I was 18 years old and it is still my favorite tattoo. A lot of my friends bring up that if men are complimenting or looking at it then they are looking at my cleavage and I should be bothered by that, but I don't really care. I got it for me and it's pretty. You can't control what other people do only how you respond.
The tattoo for reference:
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I pull on my boots, smooth out my hair and double check my makeup before grabbing my bag and heading out the door.
"AnnMarie!"
I turn with my key in the driver door of my car at the sound of Eddie calling my name. He's running across his yard over toward me.
He goes to say something else once he reaches my side, but he notices my outfit and stops. I turn fully to face him and put my hands on my hips, looking up at him. He isn't looking at my face. I clear my throat and he turns bright red, meeting my eyes.
