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THE RIDE HOME was silent.Not becauseit was awkward—it was, there's not much to talk about between two people who haven't 'talked much' in years—but because Steve refused to let Valentina do anything that could possibly worsen the concussion that she barely even had. Despite telling him several times that she was fine, the boy continued to turn down the radio every time she turned it back up.
After what felt like the millionth time of fighting over the volume dial, Valentina gave up—kind of—and began searching through his glove compartment for a cassette tape. If she was forced to listen to music quietly, she would at least make it somewhat enjoyable by choosing the album. The music in her bedroom was always blaring because there was no one home to turn it down. And even when Alicia used to be home, the woman loved her daughter's music taste just as much. Fleetwood Mac and David Bowie were superstars in the Varner household.
Steve watched the girl from the corner of his eye. He wasn't sure exactly what she was doing, but he felt bad for restricting her so much already so he let her be. ALl he could focus on was making sure she was okay, but he also cared about her feelings.
Valentina stopped searching through the tapes though once she rediscovered one that she definitely did not want to see again. Her gaze sharpened on the four words written on the tape. Once the rectangular box was held between her fingers, she threw it back into the compartment and slammed it shut.
Steve didn't ask what she'd found that made her body go rigid, but he had a good feeling about it. He regretted not stopping her from going through those tapes now.
The two sat in silence for the rest of the ride, too afraid to speak after Valentina realized, once again, that her ex-best friend kept a copy of her favorite album in his car. He supposedly hated the band while they were friends, but the album came out after they split apart. So why the hell did he have that tape?
Rumors by Fleetwood Mac.
It was written in the messy, erratic handwriting of none other than Steve Harrington. The words might've been ineligible to someone who didn't know the boy for eight years prior, but Valentina did know the boy for the past eight years.
So, for the remaining ten minutes of the car ride from Hawkins High to the pair's little cul-de-sac, they were silent. It wasn't uncomfortable, per say, in the sense that they were uncomfortable with each other. They were uncomfortable in their own skin.
Valentina didn't know how to act, how to breathe, how to blink her eyes, in fear that any sudden movement would awaken Steve from this rare reverie in which the two of them were friends again. That tape was a crack in the perfect bubble they'd surrounded themselves in the last few hours. Whether she'd admit it or not, Valentina enjoyed pretending like the past didn't exist and that the future ahead contained both of them, together. Steve had spent the last hour taking care of her as if that was normal. She didn't want it to end.
