Any Time At All

Chapter Two

"Who should I be happy with, Steve?" Your hands are cold compared to his warm touch.

"Me." He says with one last look in your eyes as he slowly takes his hand from yours and walks away.

You watch as he leaves, thinking about what just happened. He likes you. Your one question about Steve has been answered. Holding back your tears, you walk to the lunch room to gather your things and head to the next class.

Steve sits behind you in Chemistry, the last class of the day. You're afraid to turn around and ask if you two will walk home together. Out of all the possible ways this day could have gone, you never imagined it would have been like this.

The final bell rings and everyone is scattered throughout the hallways trying to leave the school.

You catch Steve before he could bolt and ask if he'll walk you home. He looks up at you and nods. The both of you walk out of the school into the parking lot without a word. All of the upperclassmen are getting in their cars or just standing by them, conversing with their friends.

Halfway through the parking lot, you hear your name. "Hey, (Y/N)!" You turn around to see a tall blonde boy. Caleb. His muscles are stretching out his sheer white shirt. You blush a bit but straighten out your face so that Steve doesn't see it. Nevertheless, he sees it and lets out a long, frustrated sigh. "You need a ride, sweetheart?" His pet name for you is getting a little strange, considering that you don't even know the guy.

You look back at Steve and he isn't there. He starts walking home on his own, thinking that he isn't good enough for you. You give it a little more thought. "Sorry, Caleb, but not today." You turn around and start jogging over to Steve. The rush of the wind slightly makes the front of your dress cling to your legs. "Steve, wait up." You finally reach him and he smiles at you. Not a small smile, a big smile. Like he is about to start laughing.

You wrap an arm over his shoulder, "Still friends?" Your eyes search for an answer.

"Best friends." He smiles to himself and continues walking. You talk about your first day of school, avoiding the short lived argument in the second half of the day. For now, at least.

You say goodbye once you arive at your house. You walk inside and it's quiet. "Mom? Dad?" You look in the garage and find the car gone. Looks like you have the house to youself.

You end up doing your homework and eating leftovers from the fridge in the living room while watching TV. Half of you expects Steve to come over but the other half understands if he doesn't.

The next few weeks of school fly by. Caleb finds you in the hallways and tells you that he looks forward to the dance.

Finally, its Friday. The dance is tonight and you are beyond excited. You already bought a nice, deep blue dress with small sequins around the waist for a nice touch. You made plans with Caleb to be picked up early to go out to dinner and then straight to the high school.

After school, you shower and put your make-up on. You haven't talked much to Steve after his confession but that doesn't mean that you aren't on good terms.

You pick up your phone and call Steve. He picks up after the second ring. "Yeah?" He continues choosing what clothes to where for the dance. He wants to look good for you, even though you are going with someone else.

"Steve, hey! Am I still gonna see you at the dance?" You hope he will be there. Steve is really the only true friend you have. It would be a shame if he isn't there to share the experience of a first high school dance with you.

"Oh, yeah...of course," he mutters."I'm going to be a little late but I will definitely be there." Clearly a little distracted, he says good bye and slams the phone down. He moves over to the small brown paper bag on his bed. Steve opens it up to find Fabergé bottles and a can of Farrah Fawcett hairspray. This is the first time Steve Harrington gave himself an identity. The classic Steve the hair Harrington starts here. He showers with the Fabergé products and waits until his hair is damp-- not wet, damp-- to apply four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett hairspray. He is ready for this dance.