No Good • Billy Hargrove

Four

"Steve, wait!" I shouted, chasing after him.

He slammed his fist against the hood of his car before leaning on it, pulling out a joint and lighting it with trembling hands.

"What's going on, Steve?" I asked, stepping closer. I knew he only smoked when he was upset or stressed.

I reached up, gently pushing his hair out of his face.

"She doesn't love me," he said, exhaling smoke in a shaky sigh.

"What? What did she say?" I pressed, surprised.

"Pretty much that everything's bullshit, I'm bullshit, and this whole relationship is bullshit."

I pursed my lips, unsure how to comfort him. Heartbreak wasn't my strong suit, and I'd never been the best at giving advice. "Was she drunk?" I asked. Knowing Nancy, she wouldn't say something like that unless alcohol was involved.

"Yes, but—"

"Steve, talk to her when she's not drunk—or when you're not drunk, for that matter," I said, trying to cheer him up.

He stared at me, his eyes softening. His hand reached up, his thumb gently brushing my cheek.

"Why are you such a good person?" he asked quietly.

I smiled, about to respond with something sarcastic, but before I could, his lips collided with mine.

I froze for a moment, his warm, plump lips pressing against mine. And then, I let it happen. I understood the need behind it, the desperation. He was my best friend, and in this moment, he just needed to feel loved—even if it wasn't the kind of love he was searching for.

I kissed him back.

He picked me up and placed me on the hood of his car, sliding between my legs. His hands moved to my waist, then to my ass, giving it a squeeze. A soft moan escaped my lips before I could stop it.

That was when I knew we had to stop.

"Steve, wait," I whispered, pressing my hands against his chest to gently push him back.

"I—I'm sorry," he stuttered, scratching the back of his head.

"It's okay, Harrington," I said, bumping his arm lightly with a small smile. "Go home. I'll see you soon."

He nodded, stepping back and climbing into his car. "Hey, Danica—thanks for always being here."

I hummed a soft "mhmm," watching as he drove off into the night.

I sighed, deciding it was time for me to head home, feeling the alcohol buzzing in my system.

As I reached my car and pulled on the handle, a strong hand covered mine.

"Don't go," a familiar voice said.

I turned to see Billy standing there, his expression surprisingly soft, though his eyes were glossy from the alcohol.

"Sorry, Cali. Even queens have curfews," I teased, giggling.

"Well, before you go, just smoke one joint with me?" he asked, a small, hopeful smile on his face.

I smiled back, pulling out my lighter. Sitting on the hood of my car, I sparked up the joint, inhaling deeply before passing it to him.

"So, why did you move to Hawkins?" I asked, watching him take a drag.

"My dad got remarried, and they wanted a 'fresh start,'" he answered, his tone tinged with bitterness as he handed the joint back to me.

"What's California like?" I asked, curious.

"Paradise," he said without hesitation. "There's so much to do—definitely different than Hawkins." A small smile crossed his face, followed by a wistful sigh as he got lost in his memories.

I slid off the hood of my car, stepping in front of him. He was staring down, fiddling with his lighter. Gently, I placed my fingers under his chin, tilting his face up until those ocean-blue eyes met mine.

"Look at it this way: only a couple more months until graduation. Then you can go back to California," I said softly, placing a reassuring hand on his cheek.

This was the Billy I liked—the one who wasn't trying so hard to be a cocky asshole, the one who let his guard down.

"I like talking to you," he admitted, leaning in as if to kiss me.

I dodged him, laughing. "Still not gonna get to me, Hargrove," I teased before slipping into my car.

As I drove away, I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw him standing there, watching me with that same soft expression.

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