Time After Time {Steve Harrington x OC}

9

"Hey! Wait up!"

Steve had already reached his car by the time Sadie had started up the lawn. She was a bit too high to figure out that his offer had probably been rhetorical, but he waited nonetheless as she weaved through drunken partygoers that watched them from the front yard.

As soon as she closed the passenger side door, he hit the gas, peeling away from the party. She stared at his grim face, wondering if he was going to cry or yell. He seemed like more of a yeller. Most men were. She wondered if she should ask about it. And if she did, should she play dumb or reveal her eavesdropping?

"Who was that? In the closet with you?"

She started. She hadn't been expecting him to break the silence.

"Fuck if I know." She shrugged, "Some junior."

"Good kisser?" He didn't look at her, just out through the windshield. The passing streetlights cast an eerie yellow glow over his face, so she wasn't sure if he was a little paler than usual or if that was just their doing.

"No idea. Not really in the right state of mind to judge kissing abilities right now."

He finally looked over at her, as if assessing her condition, but he didn't say anything else. Sadie supposed it was her turn to break the silence.

"You okay?"

The tightening of his grip on the steering wheel didn't escape her notice.

"Fine. Why?" He swallowed.

"Oh, no reason. Just...you seemed to want to leave in a hurry...plus--I don't know if you know this--but it turns out that the coat closet and the first floor bathroom are adjacent to each other and share a vent." Sadie figured she was too high to be coy and just came out with it. What was the worst he could do? Lie? What did she care about Steve Harrington lying to her?

"Fuck. You heard all that?"

"Sort of."

He groaned and hit the steering wheel with his palm. Yeah. He was an angry-sad. 

They were pulling onto Danbury street, and Sadie had a lot of questions that needed answering, at the top of her list--Barb, so she surprised herself by asking, "You ever heard of therapy?"

He scoffed, "Yeah, my mom goes on yoga retreats every other week."

"Have you ever tried therapy?"

"No, isn't it for like...the mentally disturbed? Have you?"

"Oh yeah, loads." He was staring at her, "I am mentally disturbed."

A small hint of a smile formed as he pulled into his dark driveway, "Right. That explains so much."

"Anyway, here's where I'm going with this: It is scientifically proven that talking about your feelings helps you process them better. So, as someone that basically already knows everything, you have a perfect candidate to talk it out to."

"You definitely don't know everything."

"No. But I'd like to."

"Why?"

"I'm a nosy gal. And I also give good advice. And believe it or not, I'm being serious when I say talking about it will help." It did for Sadie at least, when she had someone to talk to. 

In typical guy fashion, Steve didn't seem to buy it, "Sure. What's really in it for me? Pouring my heart out to my neighbor?"

"Hey, I prefer lab-partner."