Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
MONTY WAS WEARING A cropped tube top, the flared jeans from the day before combined with plateau boots and her favorite lip gloss and hoop earrings. All her favorite pieces combined made her feel like Ultra-Monty; radiating confidence, style and a hidden 'post break-up glow'. She passed and greeted the three girls from yesterday with a wave, and they looked incredibly happy with receiving Monty's recognition. She came to a halt at her locker and opened it, revealing angel stickers and a mirror on the door, and lots of make-up, candles and some school books inside. It was very pink, as Steve had called it before. What he actually meant was weird girl shit.
But, what Monty noticed was that ever since Steve dumped her, kids around school would act differently around her. Not as... clingy. Or desperate for her attention. It made her a bit suspicious, and if she were honest she was a bit scared that she might not be as popular in the future. Steve was her insurance for popularity and now that he was gone...
She jumped when the locker door was pushed against the other lockers, and a familiar figure appeared next to her. Speaking of the devil, Steve Harrington was styled in an ugly striped polo shirt with his hair styled to perfection as per usual.
"Mornin'," he greeted her. She didn't react, pulling out some History books.
"I said–"
"I heard you the first time, dickhead. What do you want?"
"I need to talk to you," he said, looking stressed.
"You're not breaking up with me again, are you?" She joked.
He leaned down, and she didn't back away from the closure. He smelt so good. She missed him...
"Look, Nancy's friend is still missing and the cops are looking for her. They're gonna wanna talk to, uh, everyone that was at the party," he explained.
"Worst party ever," she commented.
He glared at her. He wasn't in the mood for her jokes.
"Okay... God, what's wrong with you? You're ruining my morning service," she said and motioned to the cross and the candles that were lit up in her locker. "Got in a fight with Lizzy?"
"Are you allowed to light up candles in your locker?" He tried to dismiss the topic. She shrugged.
When Steve didn't answer her former question she couldn't help but laugh. "Who would've thought your fling with her would end after two days... Oh, wait. Me. I would've thought."
Steve shot her an annoyed glare. "It's none of your business," he said, "If the cops get to you and ask you about the, uh... get together... don't tell them anything about the beer?"
