Archive of Our Own

The first time was totally Eddie’s fault.

As a senior at Hawkins High (for the third time, but he wasn’t thinking about that), Eddie was given more freedoms than the underlings in freshman, sophomore, and junior year.  Specifically, he was allowed to spend lunch and study hall outside.  It was a beautiful, sunny day in late April - the kind of day where you could close your eyes and breathe in the heady scent of pure freedom.

So naturally, Eddie was in the back of his van, curtains drawn over the windows, getting absolutely ripped.  It was the only way he’d survive Chemistry with Mrs. O’Donnell.  

In hindsight, he might have overindulged a hint.  A smidge, really.  He was riding a mellow that felt so good, letting the music playing from the van’s stereo wash over him, when an annoying beeping sound came from his watch.  He turned the alarm off without giving any thought to why he’d set it in the first place.  By the time his weed-fogged brain put two and two together, he was already five minutes late for class.

“Shit!”

He couldn’t afford to miss class again.  He’d already taken the maximum amount of skips he could get away with without automatically failing.  Frantically, he reached around the driver’s seat toward the dash and ripped the keys from the ignition.  The music cut off.  Between his urgency and how stoned he was, he didn’t even register the voices arguing outside.  

“Come on, Chris, you don’t mean that.  Now get back inside.  You’re embarrassing yourself.”

He slung his bag over his shoulder and hid his metal lunchbox under the passenger seat.  Lunging for the barn doors at the back of the van, he pulled the handle.  It didn’t budge.

Shit.  Jammed again.  What was the trick to it?  Pull up, then jiggle three times to the right.  Or was it the left?

“No, I’m embarrassing you.  You just think they’re the same thing.”  That was a girl’s voice.  She sounded angry and a little scared, but mostly just tired.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.  Just come inside, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

Whoever the guy was, he sounded like a total prick.  Eddie tried the door again.  No dice.  Muttering curses under his breath, he kept at it.  Tug the handle up, jiggle the handle - one, two, three - then - 

“I don’t want to forget this happened!  I’m breaking up with you, Jason!”

There was something important about that.  Something Eddie was too high and too preoccupied to decipher right now.  His mellow was fucking gone, the adrenaline mixing with the weed in his system.  He was starting to freak out.  He was gonna miss class, he was gonna fail senior year again, he was never gonna get out of this fucking town - 

Fuck that.  He kicked the door in frustration.

“For two years, everything’s been all about you.  Well, I’m sick of it!  I’m going to do what I want!  I’m gonna - aaaaaaah!”

Eddie winced.  The reason the girl screamed was because, apparently, she and her boyfriend were arguing right behind the van.  His kick sent the door flying open, and the girl had the bad luck to be right in its path.

To his horror, he recognized her.  There, flopped on her ass in the high school parking lot, holding her elbow, was Chrissy Cunningham.  Her face was blotchy with tears.

Great.  Just perfect.  Of course it had to be Chrissy fucking Cunningham, most perfect girl in the school, object of his pathetic unrequited desires, he sent flying ass over teakettle.  Scrambling out of the van, he offered her his hand.  “Shit.  Didn’t mean to do that.  You okay?”

Chrissy stared at his proffered hand, eyes wide.  With a tentative smile, she reached toward him.  Before he could take her hand and help her up, he was muscled out of the way.

“Hands off my girlfriend, freak.”  Jason’s eyes narrowed as he looked Eddie up and down.  “Were you spying on us?”

“Trust me,” Eddie sneered, “I’ve got better things to do than keep up on the latest episode of Lifestyles of the Spoiled and Vapid.”  He glanced down at Chrissy.  Jason hadn’t even bothered to offer her a hand up; she’d gotten up herself, bracing a hand on the back bumper for an added push.  She dusted herself off, looking little worse for the wear.  Hitching his bag up on his shoulder, he loped off toward the school.  But he called one last parting shot over his shoulder.  “Enjoy getting your ass dumped, Carver!  She’s too good for you!”

The second time was kinda his fault.  

He was just pulling into the high school parking lot when he noticed Jeff, Gareth, and Freak waiting out front for him.  That was weird.  Normally if they wanted to talk to him, they’d wait by his locker.

He peered closer.  Gareth was full of energy, gripping Freak’s shoulder and jumping up and down.  Freak swatted at him irritably, but his face broke out in a wide grin.  And Jeff… Jeff had a smug look on his face, which he was fanning with several slips of paper.  Several concert tickets.

“No you didn’t!”  Eddie slammed on his brakes and jumped out of the van.  “You did not get four tickets to the sold out Iron Maiden show!”  

“Five, actually,” Jeff replied.  “Ronnie’s gonna call out sick so she can come.”

“Jesus Christ.  How’d you pull that off?”  Eddie snatched halfheartedly at the tickets, but didn’t persist when Jeff yanked them back.  He wasn’t gonna risk accidentally tearing one.  “You should play a cleric in our next campaign.  That’s some divine intervention shit.  How’d you do it?”

“I have my ways, my man.  I have my ways,” he replied enigmatically.  He sobered.  “There’s a catch, though.  Three of the seats are pretty good, but two are in the nosebleeds.  I figure we can go two and two, and swap seats during intermission.”

“Awww, so it’ll be like a date?  Buy me dinner first and I’ll put out after,” Eddie snickered.  “So how much - “

There was a scream, followed by the skreeeeee-crunch of metal on metal.

“My bike!”

Shit.  He knew that voice.  Wincing, he turned around, already knowing what he was going to see.  Sure enough, his van was about twenty or thirty feet away from where he left it.  He could just see half a twisted, mangled wheel of a bike peeking out from underneath.  Chrissy Cunningham stood off to one side, looking like she was on the verge of tears.  

Freak rolled his eyes.  “Eddie, you dipshit, did you forget to put it in park again?”

“Hey!  You know better than to distract me when I’m driving,” he defended himself even as he ran to the van.  Or rather, to Chrissy.  “Shit, I’m so sorry!  Are you okay?  I didn’t hit you, did I?”  Before he even realized what he was doing, his hands were on her, patting her down to check for injuries.

“I’m okay.  I got out of the way just in time.”  Jesus.  Even though her voice was shaking, she was the one comforting him.  Man, he was an asshole.  She looked down toward her bike.  “Do you think you can fix it?”

Eddie followed her gaze and winced.  If the wheels and chain were busted, but the frame was intact, he could just replace a few parts.  But the frame itself was crushed under one of his tires.  Even if he had the metalworking skills to straighten it out - which he didn’t - he wouldn’t trust it not to collapse sooner or later.

“Sorry to say, I think it’s toast,” he declared.  

Chrissy looked crestfallen.  “Oh.”

God, he was such a dick.  

He did some mental calculations.  He had no clue how much a bike cost, but it couldn’t be that expensive.  If he managed to sell everything in his stash box, he could have seventy bucks profit to give to her.  If she needed more, he could dip into his “get the fuck out of Hawkins” fund tonight.

Just then, a familiar voice boomed across the parking lot.  “Get your hands off my girl, freak!”

Oh, good, just what he needed: more of Jason’s chest-beating theatrics.  It was only when he followed the direction of Jason’s glare that he realized his hands had come to rest on Chrissy’s hips.  It wasn’t something he was even conscious of doing; it just felt natural, like an instinct he’d never known he had.

He let her go and took a step back.  “Sorry,” he said yet again, making eye contact with Chrissy to make damn sure she knew the apology was for her, not her boyfriend.

Chrissy didn’t even spare him a thought.  She rounded on Jason, hands on her hips, puffing herself up as much as her tiny frame would allow.  

“I really can’t deal with you right now, Jason,” she snapped.  “In case you didn’t notice, my bike just got run over.  I’m fine, by the way, thanks for asking.”  

Eddie winced.  Man, she was really rubbing salt into the wound.  Not that he was the wounded party here.  Still, ouch.  He could tell by the way she wasn’t even looking at him that the jab didn’t even register.  She wasn’t trying to make him feel bad; that would involve giving him any thought at all.  

While she and Jason bickered, Eddie started up his van and gingerly backed it up off of the mangled bike.  Sure enough, there was no saving it; one of the pedals had shattered, and the opposite handlebar was bent at a ninety degree angle it was never meant to have.

If it was anyone else’s bike, he would’ve cracked some joke about charging them for the free modern art piece he’d made.  But with Chrissy, he just felt bad.  Not knowing what else to do, he carried it over to the bike rack and slotted the bent front wheel in a spot.  It immediately tipped over, taking the entire line of bikes down with it.

“Whoops,” he said, unrepentantly, and headed inside.  

The day passed quickly - mostly because he paid approximately zero attention to his classes.  His focus was on moving product, and he got shit done.  During homeroom he visited his regulars - the jazz band, art club, and the theater dweebs - and managed to self half his stock before first bell.  The rest, he sold to the jocks at an inflated price he mentally called the Carver Tax.  All he had to do was come up with some stupid name like Purple Palm Tree Delight, and the idiots were falling over themselves to pay double for the same old weed.

By lunchtime, he had a hundred bucks worth of profit, which he slid through the vent of Chrissy’s locker with a note that simply said, “new bike’s on me.”

He needed to head to Rick’s and stock back up.  That money was supposed to go toward his move: food, gas, a security deposit on an apartment.  This expense wouldn’t stop him from leaving Hawkins this summer, but it would make money a bit tighter. 

When school let out, he climbed into his van to head to the lake house.  He didn’t get far down the road before he came across Jason’s BMW driving at an absolute crawl.  Eddie was filled with righteous indignation.  Didn’t Jason know some people didn’t want to spend any more time within a five mile radius of school than absolutely necessary?

Eddie sped up and blew by the Beemer, laying on the horn with one hand while he flipped Jason off with the other.  It was only after he passed that he noticed the reason for Jason’s slow driving: he was keeping pace with Chrissy, who was walking along the side of the road.

Eddie watched them through his rear view mirror.  Jason was leaning toward the passenger side, gesticulating angrily.  Chrissy’s face stayed stonily forward, and her arms were hugged tightly around her middle.

“Fuck,” Eddie mumbled around the cigarette between his lips.  He knew a girl being hassled when he saw it.  No way in hell he could let that stand.  With a wrench of the steering wheel to one side, he pulled a U-turn with a scream of rubber on asphalt.  The van tipped precariously to one side, but she was a faithful girl; she righted herself on all four wheels with a groaning thud.  

Pulling up alongside the Beemer, he rolled his window down.  “Need a ride, Chrissy?”

“Back off, freak,” Jason warned him.  He didn’t give a shit; he only had eyes for Chrissy.

Her face broke out in a relieved smile.  “Please,” she said, as if she even had to ask.  She jogged around the van to the passenger side and let herself in.

In the other car, Jason’s face went a mottled shade of red.  “Get out of the van, Chrissy.  Now.  You’re my girl.  You’ve got no business getting rides from some other guy.”

Nothing could have prepared Eddie for what Chrissy did next.  Standing up, she braced one hand on the back of the driver’s seat and the other on the steering wheel, and leaned over him to look at Jason.  Eddie nearly choked on his tongue as one soft, perky breast was pressed up against his cheek.  This close, he could smell her sweat and the floral scent of her deodorant.

Don’t sniff her, Munson.  Do not be that creep.  For the love of god, be cool!

With the blood pounding in his ears, he almost missed Chrissy’s shrill voice as she called out to Carver.  “I’m not your girl anymore, Jason!  I broke up with you a week ago.  Get a clue and leave me alone!”

Eddie could’ve burst into song.  School was out for the day, Iron Maiden was on the tape deck, Chrissy Cunningham’s tits were in his face, and she was newly single.  Apart from the guilt of turning her bike into a pancake, today was coming up aces.

Jason revved his engine aggressively.  “I said get out, Chrissy,” he said through gritted teeth.

Eddie put a hand on Chrissy’s arm, wordlessly signaling for her to go back to her seat.  When she was buckled up, he took a long drag of his cigarette and blew it in Jason’s direction.

“You sure you wanna get into a game of chicken with me?  I wouldn’t,” he warned.  He patted the outside of the door.  His rings gave a satisfying clang of metal against metal.  “My baby’s built like a tank.  She’ll crumple your little tin can and keep right on rolling.”  He tilted his head pensively.  “How much would mommy and daddy have to pay if you total their early graduation present?  I’m game to find out if you are.”

In truth, he was totally bluffing.  The van might’ve been able to take a hit back in its day, but now it was falling apart.  A stiff breeze in the wrong direction would probably make it fall to pieces.  And while he might have the money for a few repairs here and there, he didn’t want to risk his glorious exodus from Hawkins by blowing all his money.

But it worked.  With a parting shot of “this isn’t over, freak!” Jason drove angrily off.

lol Eddie waited until the beemer was out of sight to put the van back into drive.  “Where to?” he asked as he started driving.  

“Home,” Chrissy replied.  Eddie nodded; he’d figured.  He was already en route to her house.  “I’m, um, sorry about Jason.  He’s usually my ride, but now that we’re over, he keeps insisting.  The bus doesn’t stop at my house anymore, so…”

“So you’ve been taking your bike to school.  And I trashed it,” he finished with a wince.  “Again, sorry about that.  Really.  I put you in a shit situation.”

“It’s not your fault.”  

Damn.  She was way too forgiving.  Too good for this world, and way too good to be gracing his filthy, shitty van.

“It kind of really is.  If I weren’t such a spaz, you’d still have your bike.”

She gave a tiny, delicate huff through her nose.  Adorable.  “Trust me, Jason would still be giving me a hard time.  He seems to think if I just get in the car, our relationship will be magically fixed.”

Eddie nodded absently as he took a turn.  “Sounds about right.  People like Jason think they can just throw money at their problems and they’ll go away.  And what really sucks is, most of the time they’re right,” he muttered.

Chrissy fidgeted for a minute.  Then, she started rummaging through her backpack.  “Speaking of that… was this you?”

Eddie glanced over.  In her dainty little hands was the wad of tens and fives he’d shoved into her locker only a few hours ago.  

He shrugged, deliberately nonchalant.  “Well, yeah.  I wrecked your bike.  You need a new one.  Ergo, it’s my responsibility to replace what I broke.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone use ‘ergo’ in a sentence before,” she snickered.  

He tapped his forehead with one finger.  “Dungeon Master, baby.  Gotta have a good vocabulary to paint a picture with words.”

For a moment, Chrissy was quiet.  But even though Eddie kept his eyes on the road (for once), he could feel her gaze on him.  His thumbs drummed nervously on the steering wheel.

“I never knew that about you,” she said softly.

His breath caught in his throat.  He disguised it with a cough.  “That’s me: a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in an amazing head of hair.”  That earned him another laugh, which made his stomach do a somersault.

“I can’t take this,” she said, and for a brief moment he thought she meant the (unsurprisingly one-sided) sexual tension.  Then she placed the money on the center console, and he clued in.  “I can use my allowance to buy a new bike this weekend.  I can’t take your money when I know you’re - “

“Don’t say I’m poor,” he said, his voice coming out harsher than he intended.  He scrubbed a hand over his face.  “Look, I know I live in the trailer park, and the only clothes I bought new are my band tees.  I know I drive a complete shitbox.”  As he shifted gear, the transmission rattled as though offended.  He gave the steering wheel a placating pat.  “But I earn what I get.  Wayne works his ass off to keep a roof over our heads, and I put my ass on the line for every penny I’ve got.  People like Jason might have more, but that’s only because he was born on third base while I had to fight just to get a chance at bat.”

Sports metaphor.  Gross.  He stuck his tongue out to expel the aftertaste from his mouth.

“I wasn’t going to say poor,” Chrissy corrected him.

Surprised, he shot her a quick glance.  “No?”

She shook her head.  “I was just going to say… I know you’re saving up to leave as soon as we graduate.  I don’t want to take away from that, is all.”

“Oh.”  He muddled that over.  “How’d you know that?”  He hadn’t told her, obviously; other than the two times he’d assaulted her with his van over the past week, he hadn’t spoken a word to her since middle school.  He could rule out his friends telling her, too; they didn’t exactly run in the same social circles.

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked, eyes sparkling with mirth.  “You talk about it all the time.  This might come as a surprise, but you’re not exactly quiet, Eddie.”

He snorted.  “Guess you got me there.”

With nothing left to say, they both lapsed into an awkward silence.  Chrissy wrung her hands nervously in her lap, obviously uncomfortable with the company she kept.

Turning onto her street unlocked her tongue.  “Did you mean what you said last week?” she blurted out, seemingly at random.

He thought back, trying to remember what he said.  He apologized for kicking the door into her face.  No mystery there.  He bickered with Carver.  And as a parting shot, he told the dick that Chrissy was too good for him.

That was it!  Chrissy wanted to know if he really thought she could do better than Jason.  As if it weren’t painfully fucking obvious.  Jason was a spoiled little shit, and Chrissy was basically an angel.  Even if she never dated again and just lived the rest of her life with three dozen cats, she’d be doing leaps and bounds better than dating Jason.

And more than that… she had to know.  She had to know that Eddie was completely, pathetically, facedown-in-the-dirt smitten with her.  She’d said it herself: he wasn’t subtle.  She had to have picked up on all the little hints.  The longing gazes.  The way he conveniently left cheerleaders out of his nonconformist rants.  How Jason was his favorite jock to pick on.  She had to know.

“Was there ever any doubt?” he asked rhetorically.  “I mean, come on.  Anyone with half a brain figured it out.”  Which was why most of the school had no idea.

“Oh.”  Her shoulders hunched as she did her best to shrink into herself.  If she were a turtle, her head and all her limbs would be tucked away in her shell.  “I never knew,” she said, her voice small and forlorn.

If it were anyone other than Chrissy Cunningham, he would’ve given them a playful nudge with his elbow.  But if he touched her right now, sheer excitement would have him vibrating at a speed that would allow him to phase through matter.  “Don’t worry about it.  Shit like that?  Not your fault.  And now you know, right?  Something something, knowledge is power or whatever crap they peddle at school.”

“True.”  

She didn’t exactly sound happy about it, which… fair enough.  Nobody wanted to hear that they’d wasted their time with some asshole who didn’t deserve it.  

Before he could get the balls to seize the moment and ask her out, she pointed to her house.  “That’s me,” she said.

He knew that already.  Of course he knew.  Not in a creepy, “I follow you home and watch you sleep” way.  But he’d seen her come out of the house when he was selling one evening, and he just… made a mental note or five.  Totally normal and not at all creepy.

He parked up alongside the perfectly manicured lawn and turned to her as much as the car seat would allow.  He took a deep, fortifying breath.  It was now or never.  “Listen, Chrissy.  If you’re - “

“Please don’t,” she begged, shaking her head so hard it made her perfectly curled ponytail sway back and forth.  “I don’t - I don’t want to hear it.”

Ouch.  Message received.  Eddie was no stranger to rejection; he’d been dealing with it in one form or another most of his life.  The key was to not let that shit bother him.  Which was basically impossible when the girl of his dreams wouldn’t even hear him out before rejecting him outright.  To hide the hurt, he put on the same disdainful, apathetic mask he used any other time people wrote him off.

“Fair enough,” he said coolly.  “Later, Chrissy.”

Chrissy let herself out of the van and trudged to her front door.  With every slow, dragging step, she seemed to shrink more and more in a way that couldn’t be explained by the growing distance between them.

Even freshly wounded from her thoughtless rejection, Eddie still waited until she was safely inside before he drove off.  Windows down and stereo cranked, he drove aggressively around town until his tank was almost empty.  He hit the gas station on the way home and used his last five bucks to get a few gallons.

It wasn’t until he pulled into his driveway that he noticed the wad of bills Chrissy left behind on the passenger seat.

The third and fourth times probably could have been avoided if he’d just kept his distance.

Listen, he tried.  He really did.  But seeing her arriving to school every day, sweaty and out of breath because she got up early and jogged there, was just too much for him to bear.  Apparently, her parents were taking their sweet time replacing her bike.  As for why none of her friends offered her a ride, that was no mystery; any time Chrissy walked with them in the parking lot at the end of the day, Jason glared at them with a furiosity that had them meekly saying their goodbyes and leaving her behind.

Eddie couldn’t understand that mindset at all.  When someone became part of his inner circle, his loyalty was as binding as a blood oath.  There was no world where some dickhead glaring at him would make him feel okay leaving a friend to hoof it all the way home.  Besides, what could Jason do?  Make the cheerleaders a little less popular for the last month of school?  Yeah, right.  Eddie wasn’t afraid of Jason.  There was nothing he could do that would hurt him.

Anyway, he’d’ve given her a ride himself if he didn’t make her so obviously uncomfortable.  He might be a freak, but he wasn’t a creep about it.  So he did the only thing he could think of: he slid the cash for a new bike back into her locker.

By the end of the day, the money found its way into his locker.  So he did what any sane, well-adjusted person would do, and snuck it into her backpack when she wasn’t looking.

He thought he got away with it, too.  But then he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and found the bills slipped inside.

He probably should’ve given up.  If she wanted the money, she’d’ve taken it the first time.  But he hated seeing her without a ride.  And he was nothing if not stubborn.  So he upped the ante by sneaking into the girl’s locker room during cheer practice and putting the cash in her duffel bag.

Not to be outdone, Chrissy folded it up and stuffed it in the handle of his van door.  God, she was perfect.  She might be all cotton candy softness on the outside, but deep down she was enjoying their game just as much as he was.  

Maybe he had a one in a million shot at winning her over, after all.

Emboldened, he walked up behind her during lunch.  Pinching her powder blue scrunchie between his thumb and forefinger, he tucked the bills - once crisp, now crumpled up from a week of rough handling - under the elastic.

Chrissy’s hand shot to her ponytail.  “What - Eddie!”  She turned to face him, her hair whipping at the sudden movement.  When her hand came away with the cash, she pouted up at him.  God, she was so pretty, even when she was trying to be mad at him.  It wasn’t fair.  “I told you, I’m not taking it!  You need it.”  She tried to hand it back to him.

Eddie took a step back, holding his hands out in front of him to ward her off.  “No can do, princess, and there’s nothing you can do to make me.”

For a second, she looked… hurt?  But that couldn’t be right.  As quickly as the look passed over her face, it was gone, replaced with the cool, unfeeling mask he was used to seeing on the other cheerleaders.  Never her.

“Take it,” she said, all trace of good humor gone from her voice.  She shoved the wad of bills at him.  “I mean it, Eddie.  I’m not playing this game with you anymore.”

So that was how it was.  She was just playing with him, toying with his feelings until she could find a new boyfriend, some clean-cut jock with money and prospects and a car that wasn’t falling apart.

He really thought she was better than that.  He remembered the sweet, shy girl he met back in middle school.  Had the popular clique stolen that part of her?  Or was this who she’d been all along?

When he didn’t reach for the money, she brandished it at him again.  “Take it!” she shouted.  Her eyes shone, red and glassy with unshed tears.

“I don’t want it,” he said through gritted teeth.  And it was true.  He didn’t want the money.  He wanted her - the her he’d built up in his head for six pathetic years.

He wanted to not be the reason for the hurt look on her face.  Better yet, he wanted her not to be hurting at all.  

“Fine,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain as she dropped the money on the floor.  Turning on her heel, she walked out of the cafeteria.

A shoulder bumped hard into his from behind.  “Better luck next time, freak,” Jason sneered as he went out of his way to step on the crumpled bills on the floor.

Jesus Christ, did Jason know any other insults?  “Go choke on your jockstrap, dick,” Eddie muttered, stooping down to pick up the money.  

Why was it every time he talked to Chrissy, he felt like he’d just spaced out in the middle of math class?  One second, everything seemed straightforward and simple.  The next, he was bombarded by unfamiliar symbols with mysterious meanings, which he’d surely understand if he’d just paid a little more attention.

Well, whatever.  He wasn’t taking the damn money back.  At this point, it was a matter of principle.  It was his fault (mostly, but partly Jeff’s for distracting him) that her bike was wrecked.  It was only right he replaced it.  But he couldn’t just give her the money; he needed a way to pay her back for her broken bike that she couldn’t refuse.

The answer was so simple he could kick himself for not thinking of it sooner.  That Friday, after school, he took a detour to the secondhand store and checked out their bike selection. 

There was one in a pretty shade of pink he knew she’d like… if it weren’t made for an eight year old.  Even as itty bitty as she was, it was way too small for her.  There was another in a shade of blue-green that would suit her, but it sure as hell didn’t suit his budget.  He owed her a new bike, sure, but he wasn’t going to fuck himself over for the sake of someone who couldn’t seem to stand him.

Even he wasn’t that pathetic for her.  Close, but not quite there.

Finally, crammed in the back he found a bike just her size in candy apple red.  Even better, it was under his budget.  When he asked the cashier, he learned why: the chain was broken, the gears were rusted, and the seat had split at the seams.  All easy fixes that would only cost a few bucks in materials.  No doubt whoever got rid of the bike thought it wasn’t worth the effort to fix.  Lucky for him, Wayne had taught him some basic restorations over the years.

Doing the repairs didn’t even take long.  On Saturday, he woke up at the crack of eleven and got to work: fixing the chain, sanding the rust off the gears, and sewing the seams of the seat back together with thick, durable thread.  Once all the parts were oiled and polished and back in place, he eyed the bike critically.

It looked better than when he got it.  And it ran smoothly, which was the important thing.  Chrissy would be able to get back and forth to school until classes let up.  But that red just wasn’t… her.  She deserved something more up her alley.

Okay, fine.  Maybe he was that pathetic for her.  Whatever.

Some masking tape, two cans of spray paint, and a few hours later, the bike was reassembled - again - and ready to go.  He loaded it up in the back of his van on Sunday, ready to gift it to her Monday after school.

Monday afternoon came, and Chrissy didn’t show up at the parking lot after the final bell.  It was only when he heard distant chanting in the air that he remembered: cheerleading practice was on Mondays and Wednesdays.  

Well, shit.  He really didn’t want to lug this bike around in his van another day.  He couldn’t leave it at the bike rack, lest it be stolen.  His only option was to wait for cheer practice to get out.

So that’s what he did.  He pulled his van up to a spot with a good view of the school’s track and field.  He checked his watch.  Still forty-five minutes left of practice.  Plenty of time to get comfortable.  Leaning his seat back, he kicked his feet up on the dash, lit up a joint, and enjoyed the show.

Every Sunday of football season, Wayne liked to get up early - early for a third shifter, that is - so he could watch the big game.  Didn’t matter if his team was playing or not; he just liked to watch.  Personally, Eddie couldn’t get into it.  What fun were the clashes when there were no swords involved, no monsters to slay?  Why cheer on the defense when all they were defending was an end zone?  Who cared which side won when neither was on the side of light or darkness?  All it was was pointless, sanitized violence, just as brutal as the real thing, but cleaned up for delicate sensibilities.  If he had to watch a bunch of dumb jocks make themselves even dumber by knocking their heads together, at least take the helmets off so he could see each brutal detail.

But as he watched the cheer squad practice, he found for the first time that there was a sport that he could sit back and appreciate.  At first, it was the cheer skirts that caught his eye: the way they swished and shimmied with every move, occasionally flipping up to show a tantalizing flash of soft but toned thighs.

Man.  Whoever invented the modern cheer uniform was a genius.  

But there was more to it than just cute skirts and legs he’d kill to have wrapped around his waist.  He’d never really noticed the raw physicality that went into their routines.  There were backflips, cartwheels, and perfect splits that had him wincing in imagined pain.  Even their easier moves were executed in flawless rhythm, girls of all different heights managing to make their routines look perfectly uniform.  Each shake of their green and white pompoms distracted the eye from the actual effort taking place.  Pay no mind to the girls behind the pompoms.  Just focus on what really matters: cheering on the asshole jocks from your school so they can beat the asshole jocks from the other school.

Then they started standing on one another’s shoulders - two girls on the ground while a third perched on top - and Eddie was blown away.  Eddie knew from experience that people were fucking heavy; having crowd surfers land basically on top of him at concerts proved that fact.  Even sharing the burden with other crowd members, he still worked up a sweat and woke up the next day stiff and sore.  And here were these girls, with their bright smiles and delicate little bird bones, hoisting one another up in the air like it was nothing.  They made the whole thing look effortless.

They were lining up to do some kind of ludicrously complicated feat of strength and balance when a familiar voice cut through the air with a bellow.

“Quit creeping on my girl, freak!” Jason yelled from across the parking lot.  A group of his goons hovered at his shoulders, a pack of lapdogs waiting for their master’s say-so to act.

Eddie took a long, slow drag of his joint and blew the smoke in Jason’s direction.  He felt a stab of vicious satisfaction at the affront and disgust on the smug prick’s face.  “Last I heard, she wasn’t your girl anymore,” he drawled.

Jason sneered.  “Oh, I see how it is.  Is that your game, Munson?  Hang around my leftovers and see if any scraps fall your way?”  He glanced behind him to his friends - first on one side, then the other.  “Know what happens to dogs who beg at the table?  They get kicked ‘til they learn their lesson.”

Eddie heaved a long-suffering sigh.  All this hassle was so not worth it.  One on one, he could take Jason in a fight.  He might not work out like the jocks did, but he could scrap, and he wasn’t above fighting dirty.

But fighting Jason with his whooping pack of hyenas at his back?  Yeah, no.  He didn’t like those odds.

He took one last parting glance at the cheerleaders, who were setting themselves up to form a pyramid with their petite cheer captain at the summit.  He was sorry to miss it, but there was nothing to be done.  “No shame in running,” he muttered as he turned the key in his ignition.  The shame twisting in his stomach paid no heed to his words.

As he hit the gas, the engine backfired with a concussive crack.  A chorus of shrieks rent the air as the precariously-stacked pyramid of cheerleaders began to wobble.

Eddie watched the events as they happened, seemingly in slow motion.  The girls at the bottom of the pyramid screamed and jerked, startled by his van backfiring.  That, in turn, caused the entire structure to rock and sway, all the way to the peak where Chrissy stood on one leg, both arms in the air.  Even from this distance, Eddie could see the moment her ever-present smile melted into an expression of pure terror.  In that moment, he could swear that her eyes met his and locked on them.

He needed to do something.  But he was so far away, and he wouldn’t know what to do even if he could get there in time.  What could he possibly do?  Nothing.  

So he sat there, uselessly, as Chrissy Cunningham toppled from the heights to the unforgiving ground below.

By some miracle, she managed to hit the ground in a tumble, letting her momentum carry her in a head-over-heels roll that lessened the impact.  Still, Eddie had no doubt she’d be sore in the morning.

Her fellow cheerleaders gathered around her in a flurry of skirts and pom poms.  Once they were sure she was alright, the coach verbally dragged them all back to practice.  In her generosity, she offered Chrissy the chance to “take five” on the bleachers.

Take five?  Unbelievable.  He’d seen jocks sit out the rest of a game for less.  Hell, if he took a dive like that off a stage, he’d be slumping off to the bar for a beer to soothe the bruises to his body and ego.

With the cheerleaders sucked back into practice, Chrissy was left alone.  She held an ice pack to her shoulder and flexed her foot with a pained wince.

Jason and his gang of jockstraps were nowhere to be seen.  Typical.  Apparently Chrissy was “his girl” when he was being a territorial dick, but not when she took a spill and got hurt.  Not when it counted.

Eddie could be there, though.  This wasn’t even about his crush anymore.  Well, not mostly.  This was about the supposedly most popular girl in school being left alone to nurse her wounds while her self-described boyfriend fucked off to god knew where.

Swearing under his breath at how pathetic he was, Eddie turned off his car and climbed out.  Not wanting the other cheerleaders to make a whole thing, he snuck around the back of the bleachers and climbed under them.  Chrissy, who was humming softly under her breath, didn’t seem to hear his approach.

“Quite a spill you took, princess,” he remarked, trying for cool flippancy.

Chrissy started with a gasp.  “Who - Eddie?”

“The one and only.”

“Pretty sure there’s more than one Eddie out there,” she retorted.  

“Maybe, but there’s only one me.”  He walked up closer until the shrinking height of the bleachers forced him to take a knee.  “Listen, I just wanted to say sorry.  I didn’t know my van was gonna backfire like that.”

She shrugged.  “It’s fine.”

“It’s not, though.  You could’ve broken your neck.”

Her head turned to one side, just enough so he could see her face in profile.  The perfect coil of her ponytail slid over the opposite shoulder.  “I didn’t think you cared.”

“What?”  If Eddie weren’t already kneeling, he would have staggered back a step as the earth seemed to tilt off its axis.

He watched as her cheek and ear pinkened with a hot blush.  “Never mind.  Forget I said anything.”

“No, seriously, what?” he demanded.  He squat-walked closer, grabbing the bleacher’s support beams for balance.  “You think I wouldn’t care if you died?  That’s an extremely fucked up thing to say, princess.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” she sighed.  She didn’t sound annoyed - just resigned.  “I know you think I’m… ‘spoiled and vapid’ or whatever it was you said.  But you don’t have to rub it in all the time.”

What the fuck?  “Okay, hold on, hold on, hold on.”  There was no way in hell he could have this conversation with Chrissy’s back turned to him.  He scrambled out from under the bleachers, smacking his forehead on one of the beams as he went.  “Ow!  Fuck.”  He didn’t bother dusting the dirt off his jeans as he sat next to her, taking her hands in his.  “Okay.  Who the fuck told you I thought that about you?”

Red-gold eyebrows scrunched over hurt, wary eyes.  “Y… you did,” she replied, sounding confused.  He stared at her blankly.  “Over a week ago?  When I dumped Jason and you slammed your door at me?  You said I was spoiled and vapid.”

He tried to think back.  He’d been really high at the time, and late for class on top of it.  But yeah, he vaguely remembered saying something along those lines.  “That was aimed at Jason, not you.”  Never her.

Her face fell, obscuring her features behind her bangs.  “Yeah, well, you managed to hit me anyway,” she mumbled.

Well, shit.  That explained why she was so prickly around him.  “Sorry.  I thought I was casting Magic Missile, but I guess I cast a big old Fireball without realizing it.”

She looked at him, nonplussed.  “Huh?”

Eddie, you fucking nerd, just apologize like a normal goddamn person, he chastised himself.  “Forget it,” he said quickly.  He thought back to the other times they talked.  In hindsight, he could see how he messed up.  “Just to make things clear, I wasn’t calling you princess to make fun of you.  You’re just too damn good for Jason.  Or anybody else at this school, for that matter.”

“Oh.”  The idea seemed to percolate in her brain for a moment.  Her eyes widened.  “Ohhh, so when you said - oh, no!”  Her hands went to her cheeks.  But her fingers were too small and dainty to contain her fiery blush.  “Oh my god, and when I yelled at you about the money, you were just trying to be nice!”

Not being nice.  Flirting.  All that bullshit with the money was his version of a mating dance.  Now didn’t seem like the best time to bring that up, so he wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Speaking of the money,” he said instead, “I’ve got a surprise for you in my van, if you’ve got a minute.”  She raised her eyebrows at him.  “That’s not a line, I swear.  I have a one hundred percent non-creepy surprise in my van that has never been in my pants.”

She burst into giggles that rang out in the air - the prettiest sound he’d heard in his life.  He could feel his face spreading in a goonish grin that probably should have embarrassed him.  But fuck it - the prettiest girl in school thought he was funny.  He’d take what he could get.

She stood up, and he quickly followed suit.  She looked shyly up at him through her lashes.  “I’d like to see what you’ve got for me in the back of your van,” she said coquettishly, and oh god she was trying to kill him.

A loud whistle cut through their air.  Both of them turned to look at the cheer coach, who had her hands on her hips.  Her lips were pressed together in a thin, disapproving line.

“That’s five, Chrissy.  If you’re feeling well enough to flirt, I’m sure you can muster up the strength to cheer.”

Chrissy wrapped both her arms around Eddie’s bicep and leaned into him.  Ridiculously, he found himself tensing the muscles in his arm, trying to make it feel toned under her fingertips.

“My ankle’s really bothering me, coach.  I think I need to rest it.  Eddie was nice enough to offer me a ride home,” Chrissy said with her most winsome smile.

“Uh-huh.”  The coach didn’t look remotely convinced.  “If you say so, Miss Cunningham.  Be sure to keep that foot elevated.  Alone.”  With that, she turned her attention back to the rest of the cheer squad.

Eddie’s mind helpfully supplied a whole montage of ways he could keep Chrissy’s ankles elevated.  There were all sorts of ways he could twist her to put her legs up over her head.

And there was no way he was gonna push his luck by suggesting it.  By some miracle, she wasn’t mad at him anymore.  And if the way she looked at him meant what he hoped it did, he might actually have a chance here.  He just had to play it cool and not blow it.

So when he wrapped an arm around her waist to “help her walk,” he kept his touch respectful.

When they got to his van, he reluctantly let her go.  “Now, I know I said it was a surprise, but it’s nothing, like, earth-shattering,” he cautioned as he reached for the door handle.  “Just… manage your expectations, is all.”

Belatedly, he realized that he really should’ve cleaned out the van beforehand.  The piles of cigarette butts, dirty clothes, and fast food bags weren’t going to impress a girl.  Oh well - too late for regrets now.  With a deep breath, he threw the doors open.

He’d done a pretty good job on the bike, if he said so himself.  The shiny red paint didn’t scream “Chrissy” to him, so he’d added swirling stripes of white and pink to it.  He’d repeated the stripes on the white seat and handles.  The effect brought to mind fresh-pulled saltwater taffy: sweet, old-fashioned to some, but to the discerning palate, a timeless classic.

“Oh, wow.  Where did you get this?” Chrissy breathed.

“It’s not new,” he warned, leaning against the door and pointedly not looking in her direction.  “I found it at the secondhand shop down the street from Melvald’s.  All it needed was a few touch-ups and a paint job.  Easy peasy.”

“You did all that?  For me?”  She looked up at him with quiet wonder, as though he moved the sun and stars for her instead of just applying a little elbow grease.

He’d do so much more for her, if she wanted.  All she had to do was let him.

He tried to tell her that.  But his throat clenched tight around the words.  This thing growing between them, whatever it was, was new and as delicate as spun sugar.  One wrong move and it could dissolve and slip through his fingers.  He needed to play it cool.

“Yeah, well, I sort of did annihilate your bike.  Seemed right to replace it,” he shrugged.  

“Maybe.  But you didn’t have to paint it.  You could’ve just given it to me as-is,” she pointed out.

Well… shit.  She had him there.  Ducking his head to hide his blush behind his hair, he muttered, “I just think you deserve nice things, that’s all.”

He was excruciatingly aware that a secondhand bike with a quick paint job probably wasn’t her idea of “nice.”  She had rich folks and, until recently, a rich boyfriend.  All her clothes were trendy, name brand, and bought brand new.  If he tried to compete with that, he’d go broke in no time flat.

Reaching into the van, Chrissy ran a single finger over the swirling stripes of paint.  “This is the best gift I’ve gotten in a long time,” she said softly.

He snorted.  “I know it’s tacky to talk about how much a gift cost, but trust me: it wasn’t that much.”

“I don’t care about that,” she argued.  “I mean, I would’ve been perfectly fine with anything.  But you went out of your way to make it into something special.”  Rising up on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug.  “Thank you, Eddie.  This means the world to me.”

Jesus Christ.  That was the saddest damn thing he’d heard in his life.  How could the most popular girl at school be so touched by something as simple as a quick paint job?  

And oh god, she was hugging him.  Fifteen minutes ago he was sure she hated his guts, and now she was hugging him.  Butterflies whipped up a hurricane in his stomach; if he opened his mouth, he was pretty sure he’d puke up a whole swarm of them.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders.  She pressed her forehead to his chest, making his heart skip a beat.  Like a baby bird, she felt impossibly soft and fragile in his grasp.  

If he didn’t let her go right now, he was going to do something stupid and impulsive, like kiss her.  Or confess his undying love for her.  Or prostrate himself at her feet and beg her to sit on his face.  He gave even odds to all three possibilities.

To stave off the utter madness that threatened to take over, he let her go.  Her arms tightened around his neck for a split second before she released her hold on him.  

Eddie jerked his head toward the bike.  “C’mon, princess, your chariot awaits.”

Chrissy giggled.  Now that the air was cleared between them, she didn’t seem to mind his nickname for her.  As he climbed into the back of the van, she stepped up closer.  If she noticed how much of a pigsty the cargo area was, she politely ignored it.  Instead she clasped her hands in front of her chest, bouncing excitedly on her toes.

She was just too cute.  

And of course, his van had to go and ruin the moment.  As he pulled the bike out, the front wheel rested on the bumper.  With an angry squeal of metal and a clang, the bumper fell off.

Right on Chrissy’s foot.

Thing was, his van was a dinosaur.  It didn’t have one of those cheap, plasticky bumpers like lots of the newer cars did.  It was metal, and it was heavy.

He would know.  It fell on him once when he was doing an oil change.  That shit hurt.  Apparently he hadn’t reattached it as well as he thought.

Chrissy’s eyes screwed shut as her face twisted in pain.  But where Eddie would’ve been swearing up a storm, all that came out of Chrissy’s mouth was a tiny, choked off squeak.

“God fucking damn it,” he snarled, setting the bike quickly on the ground so he could lift the hunk of metal off her foot.  Her previously pristine white sneaker was now creased and covered in rust.  Shit, he hoped her foot wasn’t broken.  “Can you move your foot at all?”

“I think so.”  She wiggled her ankle, nose wrinkling.

“Let’s be sure.  Here, sit down.”  He gestured to the back of the van.  At the sight of the jagged line of rusted metal where the bumper used to be, he changed tacks.  He walked her to the driver’s side door, opened her, and gave her a boost onto the seat.  Not because she needed it - she seemed to be walking just fine - but just for the sheer thrill of lifting her up.  His fingers went for her shoelaces.  He paused, glancing up at her for permission.  “This cool?”

Her eyes lowered.  “You don’t have to do that,” she demurred.

“Do what?  Make sure my shitty van didn’t do any lasting damage?”

“Be so nice to me.”

Since it didn’t sound like she minded him taking her shoe off - just him being nice to her, Jesus Christ - he went ahead and pulled her shoe off.  “Maybe I want to,” he said, flexing her ankle and examining her face for any sign of pain.  He didn’t see any.  But there was a lingering pinkness in her cheeks.  “That hurt?”

“N-no.”  She fidgeted with the hem of her cheer skirt.  The effort it took to keep his eyes on her face instead of her thighs was nothing short of Herculean.  “Why?” she asked softly.

He wasn’t stupid.  He knew she wasn’t asking why he needed to know if it hurt.  She was asking something much more dangerous.  But without knowing for sure what she wanted to know, he wasn’t taking any chances giving an answer to a question she wasn’t asking.  

“Why what?”  He kept his gaze firmly locked on her foot, twisting it gently this way and that to check for fractures.

“Why me?”  

He snorted.  “Are you serious?  The queen of the school wants to know why the freak flirts with her?”

He expected her to laugh along with him.  Maybe even tease him back.  What he didn’t anticipate was the silence.  He raised his gaze to her face.  Though she tried to hide behind her bangs, he still got a clear look at the crestfallen look on her face.  What she said next was so at odds with her heartbroken expression that he couldn’t begin to process it.

“You know, Courtney Taylor’s single.”

He blinked.  Letting go of her foot, he sat back on his heels.  “Who the hell’s Courtney Taylor?”

“Co-captain of the cheer squad.”  She looked at him, waiting for some sign of recognition.  When he didn’t say anything, she went on.  “Long brown hair with a perm?  Always wears sequined headbands?  I overheard her say she thought you were cute once.  Maybe if… if you asked her out…”

To an idiot, it would seem like a very kind rejection.  And an hour ago, Eddie would’ve been that idiot.  But Chrissy choked the words out with the same agonized disgust he felt when he was forced to eat lima beans.  She didn’t want him to date Courtney any more than he wanted to date her.  Whoever she was.

“Hate to break it to you, princess, but I’m not into cheerleaders,” he said.  “They’re fun to look at, yeah, but not my type.”

“Oh.”  Reaching for her shoe, she made to slide out of the driver’s seat.

But Eddie was faster, bracing his hands on the seat on either side of her.  Her breath caught and her face flushed.

“There’s this one cheerleader, though.”  His gaze met hers and held it, making it excruciatingly clear who he meant.  “She’s popular, sure, but not because she wears the right clothes and hangs out with the right people.  She’s kind.  To everyone.  Even people who don’t deserve it, like her asshole ex.”  That earned him a laugh - watery, but genuine.  “She’s got a smile that could light up a whole stage, she can take a ten foot spill and just walk it off, and when she laughs her nose does this scrunchy thing that’s basically the most adorable thing ever.  She’s so sweet I’m pretty sure if I ever kissed her I’d get another cavity or two.  Now if that cheerleader were single, I’d probably do something stupid, like sneak into the girl’s locker room to put bike money in her bag.”

For a full minute, she didn’t say anything.  Her mouth opened, closed, opened again, but not a single word came out.  If it weren’t for the pretty blush on her cheeks and the sweet smile on her lips, he’d be freaking out right now, convinced he misread the situation.

“Do you…”  She cleared her throat.  “Do you think about kissing her a lot?”

“Oh, you know, just on a daily basis,” he said honestly.

She didn’t reply.  But her head tilted back, her lips offered in a clear invitation.

It was at that moment that Eddie Munson came to the unsettling realization that he was a fucking coward.  He’d performed countless feats of heroism with Hellfire.  He poured his heart out in song every Tuesday night to a thin gaggle of unimpressed drunks.  And yeah, he’d had a handful of hookups at concerts.  But the prospect of kissing Chrissy Cunningham had him frozen in place.  

With a rusty groan, the driver’s side door slammed into his back, shoving him into Chrissy.  His lips connected with hers.  He froze.  Holy shit, he was kissing Chrissy Cunningham.  Her lips were warm and petal-soft against his, her breath as sweet as the candy stripes he painted on her bike, and he was kissing Chrissy Cunningham.

She hummed, a pleased sound somewhere between a chuckle and a moan, and threaded her fingers through his hair.  Even he couldn’t misconstrue a signal that clear.  Frantically reattaching the severed wires between his body and his brain, he cupped her jaw in his hands and kissed her back.  He could feel the window crank digging into his back even through his jacket, but who gave a shit?  He’d put up with way worse if it meant never ending this moment.

Eventually, though, it had to end.  As he pulled back, Chrissy’s lips chased his, pressing two parting kisses as if she couldn’t stand to stop.  Her eyes sparkled.

“I’ve been waiting ages for you to do that,” she said dreamily.

“Same.”  Curiosity got the better of him.  “So, uh, how long?”

“Since you hit me with the back door when I dumped Jason,” she said, frowning.  “I mean, I was going to dump him even before that happened.  But you were the one who asked if I was okay and tried to help me up.  I kinda realized, if a total stranger is nicer to me than my own boyfriend… what am I even doing with him?”

That was what got her attention?  Basic fucking decency?  Jesus Christ, her standards were in the toilet.  He wasn’t gonna ruin his chances by telling her that, though.  He might be sweet on her, but he was an opportunist at heart.  He wasn’t above taking advantage of the fact that Jason buried the bar in the dirt.

Raising her standards could come once they were dating.  He’d show her every damn day through words and actions just how much better things could be.

Maybe eventually, he’d tell her how long he’d been crazy about her.  Maybe on their ten-year anniversary.

But he was getting ahead of himself.  First, he had to actually ask her out.  So he did.  “You wanna catch a movie sometime?”

She beamed.  “There’s that new David Bowie movie at the cineplex.”

He made a face.  David Bowie really wasn’t his scene.  As far as Eddie was concerned, makeup and jumpsuits had no place at a rock show.  

But he also wasn’t immune to the guy’s charm.  His music sucked, but the blond wig and tight pants in the trailers piqued his interest.  Even if the movie was a bust, at least he’d have someone pretty to look at when the lights were too dark to see Chrissy.

“Works for me.  You free tomorrow night?”

“Oh.”  Her face fell.  “No, there’s an away game tomorrow.  What about Friday?”

“Friday’s Hellfire.”  He was tempted to postpone it.  A first date with Chrissy Cunningham was a once in a lifetime opportunity.  But given how much shit he’d given the other members any time they tried to reschedule, he knew if he tried to pull that stunt he’d never hear the end of it.  Worse - if the freshman caught wind of his hypocrisy, they’d think it was cool for them to do the same.

Luckily, he didn’t have to explain all that to her.  Chrissy nodded, obviously understanding that his extracurriculars were just as important as hers.  “Saturday?”

“Yeah, Saturday’s - ah, shit, fuck!”  He smacked his forehead.  “Saturday’s no good.  The guys and I are going to a concert.  Sunday I’m free, though.”

She chewed her lower lip.  “Sunday’s no good.  My mom’s really weird about doing family dinners on Sundays.  Like, obsessed.”

Eddie tried not to panic.  He could feel the opportunity slipping through his fingers.  If he didn’t lock this down pronto, someone else would swoop in and sweep her off her feet.

“I really can’t skip that show Saturday.  I’d ditch the guys in a heartbeat if I weren’t their ride there,” he vowed.  

“It’s okay, really!” she said, holding her hands up defensively.  “We’ve got time, right?  We can do something next week.  I mean, assuming you don’t find someone else at the show, first.”

“Not happening,” he said vehemently.  He’d been gone for Chrissy for years.  That wasn’t going to change overnight.  And he was excruciatingly aware that he had no such safety net when it came to her.  He rubbed a hand over his face in irritation.  “Maybe if I call the guys a taxi, I can ditch the show…”

He didn’t say that lightly.  Iron Maiden was in his top five favorite bands, easily.  He’d camped out at the box office for tickets to this show, only for them to be sold out by the time he got to the ticket window.  He still didn’t know how Jeff managed to pull a miracle out of his ass and score those tickets.  But fuck that.  For him to even consider choosing a concert over Chrissy, it’d have to be an all-day show with Black Sabbath and Dio on top of Iron Maiden.

“Please don’t,” she begged softly.  “If you skip a concert just for a movie, I’d feel bad the whole time.”

“Maybe, but if I skip a date with you to go to a concert, I’d be spending the whole thing thinking about what I’m missing,” he retorted.  

Chrissy pouted, and Eddie nearly melted on the spot.  How was anybody in the world supposed to say no to that face?  She was just too damn cute.  He’d do anything to make that pout go away, either by making her smile or taking that lip between his own until she forgot why she was miffed at him.  Both, ideally.

After a few seconds, that pout melted into a reluctant smile.  “That was really smooth,” she admitted.

“That’s me.  Smooth like Skippy,” he said.  

“What if we went to a matinee show instead?” she suggested.  “Your concert’s at night, right?  If we catch an afternoon movie, you’ll still be able to make the show.”

Brilliant.  Inspired.  Elegant in its simplicity - which was exactly why he hadn’t thought of it.  He had a nasty habit of over complicating things and missing the obvious.  

To reward her for being clever on top of everything else that made her amazing, he pressed another quick kiss to her lips.  He tried to pull back, but Chrissy was having none of it.  She dragged him back in by his hair for more.  As he leisurely explored her mouth, Eddie made a mental note to have her pull on his hair again in the future.  Ideally someplace more private than the school parking lot.

What started as a quick peck turned into a full-blown makeout session that lasted until cheer practice got out.  The other cheerleaders’ catcalls and wolf whistles made Chrissy duck her head, which did nothing to hide her deep red blush or the shy smile on her kiss-swollen lips.

Meanwhile, Eddie preened.  By tomorrow, the whole school would know that they were a thing.  How could he be anything other than smug?

By the fifth time, Eddie was convinced his van was possessed.

The date went really well - or so Eddie hoped.  At noon on Saturday, Eddie picked Chrissy up two streets down from her house, where she waited on her bike.  

That was her idea.  Actually, she insisted on it; when he offered to pick her up at her place, she vehemently refused.

“Trust me, you don’t want to meet my mom.  She’s… a lot.”

That matched the mental image he had of Laura Cunningham.  He remembered their conversation at the middle school talent show.  It took a particular type of bitch to make a sixth grader not want her parents there cheering her on.  Wisely, he didn’t push the issue.  Instead, he helped her load the bike in the back of the van, carefully avoiding putting weight on the freshly duct taped bumper.

The theater was mostly empty when they got there.  That wasn’t surprising; it was a warm, sunny spring day, after all.  Most people wanted to enjoy the nice weather.  Still, a few classmates were there to witness him and Chrissy holding hands as they walked inside.  As they stood in line to get snacks, Chrissy swung their connected arms playfully, smiling brightly up at him.

God, she was just as happy to be here as he was.  Eddie could hardly believe his good fortune.  He reached into his pocket, ostensibly looking for his wallet, and gave his thigh a hard pinch.  Nope - not dreaming.

Once they had their snacks - root beer for him, orange soda for her, plus popcorn and Mike & Ike’s to share - they went and grabbed seats.  The theater was empty except for an old married couple toward the front.  After some deliberation, he and Chrissy chose a spot dead center.

The movie itself was pretty cool.  Eddie wasn’t into portal fantasy as a rule, preferring fantasy worlds that had nothing to do with the real one.  To him, portal fantasy felt lazy.  If you couldn’t write an interesting character without relying on the crutch of familiar real-world problems, why bother writing fantasy at all?  But he had to admit, the set design looked incredible, the puppets were lifelike, and Sarah’s emotional journey was satisfying.

The music sucked, though.

The best part of the movie was the ballroom scene.  The music, again, was lame as hell.  But when Sarah began to dance with the Goblin King, Chrissy shifted in her seat until her shoulder brushed Eddie’s.  Recognizing his cue, he slung his arm over her shoulders - no feigned yawn-and-stretch necessary.  When she melted into him and rested her head on his shoulder, a wave of goosebumps spread over his arms.

It wasn’t lost on him that a dark movie theater was a primo makeout location.  But every time he glanced Chrissy’s way, the reflected light of the movie screen showed the rapt expression on her face.  So he behaved himself.

When the credits rolled and the lights came back on, he looked down at her.  Her head still rested on his shoulder.  She gave him a soft, questioning look, telling him without words that she didn’t want to move just yet.

That was fine with him.  Moving meant going outside, and going outside meant their date was coming to an end.  He wasn’t ready for that to happen just yet.  

So instead, he leaned his head quietly on hers, closed his eyes, and did his best to tune out David Bowie singing that stupid baby song so he could listen to the quiet sound of her breathing.

They stayed through the credits.  Even when the bright overhead lights came on, silently signaling for them to get out, they didn’t budge.  Only when a nervous-looking teenager in a theater worker’s polo shirt let them know, as if they were idiots, that the movie was over, did they finally move.  As they stood up, Eddie’s hand migrated from her shoulder to the small of her back.

“So what’d you think?  I know it was probably too ‘chick flick’ for you.”  There was an apology waiting in the wings of her voice, ready to step out onstage at the first sign of his disapproval.

“Nah, you give me goblins and castles and shit and I’m in for a good time.  The music wasn’t really my thing,” he added, tempering honesty with diplomacy, “but the rest was pretty cool.  Jim Henson knows his way around a puppet.”

“So you liked it?” she pressed.

“Yeah, I did.  The Dark Crystal was probably more my speed, but this was good, too.”

Naturally, that led to Chrissy asking about The Dark Crystal, which she hadn’t seen.  Apparently her mother deemed it “too scary” for a fourteen year old when it came out four years ago.  So of course he offered to rent it so they could watch  it at his place.  To his elation, she said yes.  Second date secured!

Not bad, Munson.  Not bad at all.

By the time they got outside, Jeff, Gareth, and Freak were waiting for him at the van.

Eddie checked his watch.  Figured - the one time he wouldn’t have minded them being late was the one time they were fifteen minutes early.  Assholes.

Freak’s jaw dropped.  “Holy shit, guys, he wasn’t yanking our chain.  That’s Chrissy fucking Cunningham.”

“I don’t believe it.”  Gareth tossed his head to get the hair out of his eyes.

Jeff crept up to them with exaggerated care like he was in a nature documentary trying to approach an animal without spooking it.  “Everything’s gonna be okay, Chrissy.  Blink once if you’ve been kidnapped, twice if you’re being blackmailed.”

Eddie rolled his eyes so hard he was pretty sure he dislocated something in his brain.  Chrissy, though, laughed delightedly.

“Not kidnapped,” she assured them, wrapping her arms around one of Eddie’s.  “I’m pretty sure his van hates me, though.  It’s basically assaulted me, what?  Three times?”

“Four if you count crushing your bike,” Eddie snickered.  Chrissy giggled.  The fact that they could laugh about it now made him nearly giddy with relief.

Gareth made a face.  “I dunno if you can blame the van when its driver forgot to shift it to park.”

Eddie shot him a Look that warned of straits most dire for his character next D&D session.  “C’mon, man, be cool.”

“I’m always cool.”

“Says the nerd who writes novel-length backstories for his characters.”

“Seriously?  This, coming from the dweeb who comes up with the main story in the first place?”

“Gentlemen,” Freak interrupted, puffing himself up with a false air of dignity.  “It behooves me to say it, but we’re all fuckin’ nerds who voluntarily do math and story hour in our free time.”

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds lame.”

Jeff glanced askance at Chrissy.  “And I think that makes you lame by association, cheer queen, if you’re dating the biggest loser of us all.”

All four of them, Eddie included, watched Chrissy carefully for her reaction.  She was the most popular girl in school, after all.  She probably wouldn’t take kindly to being called lame.

“Guess I’ll have to turn in my pompoms then, if I’m too lame to be a cheerleader.”  She glanced up at Eddie with a soft look that made his stomach flip.  “That’s okay.  Courtney Taylor will make a good cheer captain.  As a consolation prize.”

“Who?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie said, his eyes never leaving Chrissy’s.  Nobody had ever called him a prize before, consolation or otherwise.  For Chrissy to say that she’d give up popularity for him and consider it the better end of the deal…  Yeah.  That felt good.  His face warmed as a goofy grin spread over it.

Freak cleared his throat loudly.  “Okay, you two.  I’d say get a room, but we’ve got a show to catch and he’s our ride.”

Eddie could’ve killed him.  But he was right, god dammit.  They still had to pick up Ronnie, and then it was an hour drive to the venue.

Chrissy slowly let go of his arm.  “I guess I should get going,” she agreed, tilting her head toward the van.  “Can you open the door so I can get my bike out?”

Eddie shot Freak a murderous glare.  “You don’t have to bike all the way home.  I can drop you off.”  

“Don’t worry about it.  It’s not far.”  She rose up on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek.  Her breath still smelled sweet, like the orange soda she’d been drinking.

Eddie watched her go mournfully, one hand pressed to the spot where she’d kissed him.  God, he really hoped he did enough to secure a second date.  If he went and blew it after getting his hopes up, that’d be worse than never dating her at all.

A hand on his shoulder shook him roughly, yanking him out of his anxious thoughts.  Jeff jerked his head toward the van.  “C’mon, man, let’s get going!”

“Yeah.”  He climbed into the driver’s seat.  While the others clambered into the back, he watched Chrissy ride off, the sun glinting on the spokes of her bike.  When she reached the street corner, she stopped and gave him a wave - a cute wiggle of her fingers.

She was waiting for him to go, he realized.  Making sure he got on the road safely.  Or maybe lingering over the last moments of their date so it wouldn’t end.  Either way, the sight of her waiting for him eased his fears.

“Okay, let’s get going,” he said once the door slammed shut.  “We picking Ronnie up, or is she meeting us there?”  He slid the key into the ignition and turned it.  The starter turned over, but the engine didn’t catch.  That was normal.  Most days it took a few tries.

“Didn’t I tell you?  She couldn’t make it.  Couldn’t get off work.”

“Bummer.”  It would’ve been nice to see her again.  Eddie hadn’t seen her since she wisely left Hawkins the moment she graduated.

The car still wasn’t starting.  He nudged the gas pedal with his foot to give it a little juice.  Still nothing.  Glancing up, he saw Chrissy climb off her bike and start walking it toward them.

“You, uh… you good up there, dude?” Gareth asked.

“Fuckin’ peachy, why you asking?”

“Gas it!” Freak suggested unhelpfully.

“I gas it any more and I’m gonna flood it!”

“Man, I told you to get a tune-up!”

“Not helping, Jeff,” Eddie growled.

By then, Chrissy reached the driver’s side window.  “Are you okay?  Do you need me to call someone?”  She rested her hand on the lower rim of the open window.

The second she touched the van, the engine roared to life.  He cackled in triumph.  Leaning out the window, he laid a loud, smacking kiss on her lips.

She smiled, blushing.  “What was that for?”

“For being my good luck charm, princess.  If I could, I’d take you to the show with me!”

The engine gave a smooth rumble, like the purring of an oversized cat.  If he didn’t know better, he’d say it agreed with him.  Which made him realize: he could bring her with.  They had an extra ticket, didn’t they?  If the three guys all crammed into the back, they could totally do it.

“Change of plans,” he announced.  “Chrissy, how’d you like to see your first metal show?”

Second, technically, but now wasn’t the time to bring up a talent show she probably didn’t even remember.

As it turned out, he didn’t even need to.  Once they dropped her bike off and Chrissy made some excuse to her mom, Gareth, Jeff, and Freak piled into the back of the van with minimal complaint.  It was an unspoken rule that driver’s girlfriend had official shotgun privileges.  Besides, they were getting the better end of the deal; instead of rotating who got to be in the good seats and who got stuck in the nosebleeds, Eddie magnanimously offered to let them have the three good seats while he and Chrissy were stuck in the back.  Chrissy looked touched at his willingness to sacrifice for her, which he figured could only work in his favor.

Of course, his motives weren’t exactly pure.  None of the guys wanted to be a third wheel, and they all had dirt on him.  Keeping them happy and out of sight of any canoodling was pure self-preservation.

When they got in line, Chrissy wrapped her arms self-consciously around her middle.  She backed up until she was tucked into him.  Eddie wasn’t complaining; it gave him an excuse to wrap his arms around her.

“You good?” he murmured into her ear.

The nod of her head made her ponytail tickle his throat.  “I kind of stick out,” she whispered.

He glanced around.  Sure enough, they were adrift in a sea of big hair, ripped jeans, leather, and black, black, black.  By comparison, Chrissy’s sunny yellow t-shirt and pale denim shorts stood out like a sore thumb.

He snickered.  “Welcome to my world, princess.  Even the nonconformists conform.”

“Are they gonna be mad I’m here?”

Eddie wanted to tell her that of course they wouldn’t.  That the metal community accepted all types, that nobody would be looking at her because all eyes would be on the stage.  But he knew from firsthand experience that there were assholes in every group who would police which fans were “real” and which were fake.  He’d done it a handful of times, himself.

Instead, he released his hold on her.  Shrugging out of his battle jacket, he draped it over her shoulders.  “There you go - camouflage.  Now you’ll fly under the radar.”

That wasn’t exactly true.  Her cute pastel outfit and pale blue eyeshadow still stood out.  But anybody who saw the oversized fit of his leather jacket and the drape of his arm across her shoulders would put two and two together.

Chrissy didn’t slide her arms into the sleeves.  Instead, she continued to wear it like a cape, pulling both sides of the collar over the lower half of her face.  “Thanks, Eddie.”

“Any time, princess.”

The five of them entered the venue together and immediately made for a crowded merch table.  The guys each got a t-shirt.  Eddie, who was running low on money after paying for the movie and gas, went for a new patch for his vest.  He already had an Iron Maiden one, but the pharaoh design from their newest album was just too cool to pass up.  Chrissy got herself a bandana and tied it over her hair.

Once they all had their prizes, he and Chrissy split off from the guys to go to their own seats.  As soon as they got there, Eddie could see why they’d been up for grabs.  A large support pillar blocked the view of the stage.

Man.  If Chrissy weren’t here with him, he’d be pissed.  Why would a concert venue even have such worthless seats, anyway?  It was insulting.

But one look at Chrissy, draped in his jacket for all to see, and his outrage vaporized into nothing.  

When she apologized for her part in his banishment to the nosebleeds, he shook his head.  “The music’s the important part, and it’s just as loud up here,” he assured her.

They made idle conversation as the stands slowly filled up.  They talked about music, about food, about their plans for after graduation.  To Eddie’s relief, Chrissy didn’t want to stay in Hawkins any more than he did.  And with no plans to go to college, she didn’t have a specific destination in mind.

Maybe over the summer he could convince her to go with him.

When the music started, he realized that there was an advantage to their shitty seating: he had no distractions from watching Chrissy’s first concert experience.  The sheer volume of the first note nearly made her jump out of her skin.  She glanced at him with an embarrassed laugh he couldn’t hear over the music.  Then her eyes widened, and she pressed a hand to her chest.  A wide, exhilarated smile took over her face.

He knew exactly what she was feeling.  The thrum of the music vibrating through his ribcage thrilled him no matter how many shows he went to.  

The concert lasted around two hours.  The band played a good mix of their new stuff and the classics that put them on the charts.  And while Chrissy might not have gotten as into it as he did, headbanging and throwing up the horns, she nodded along to the beat and cheered loudly after every song.

When the band left the stage, Chrissy made to leave.  Eddie caught her by the wrist.  “Where are you going?”

“The… the show’s over, right?”

“Nah, there’s still the encore.  Trust me, there’s always an encore.”  And Eddie knew exactly which song they were going to play.  It was their most well-known song, the one that had suburban moms clutching their pearls in horror.

It was also his favorite, and the first metal song he’d taught himself.  By the time he perfected it, Wayne had been ready to drag Eddie into a church and shove his buzzed head face first into the baptismal font until the bubbles stopped.

Within a minute, the band came back onstage to uproarious applause.  And sure enough, the opening notes of The Number of the Beast echoed through the venue.  Eddie gave a loud whoop, then shut the hell up so he could enjoy the song.

When the final notes faded under the din of the audience, Eddie looked to Chrissy to see her reaction.  To his surprise, she was frowning.

Oh god, he hoped she wasn’t some uber-Christian who got offended at a song.  That would truly doom this whole thing they had going on, right from the start.

“Chrissy?  You okay?” he asked warily.

She snapped out of whatever funk she was in, looking at him wide-eyed.  “Yeah, I just… I know that song.  From somewhere.”

That was all?  He breathed a sigh of relief.  “Well, yeah, it’s their most popular one.  You probably heard it on the radio like five years ago.”

She shook her head.  Her frown, which had returned, was one of thoughtful confusion.  “No, that’s not it.  I heard it played live.  It was played a lot slower, and the voice was different.  But where…?”

With a start, Eddie realized: Chrissy was thinking of the first time they met.  The middle school talent show.  He’d learned the song specifically for that show to get a rise out of the scandalized parents.  But even though he’d memorized all the notes, his stubby eighth-grade fingers couldn’t hit them fast enough, so they’d had to slow it down.

Holy shit, she remembered.  Even after what, six years, some part of that might stuck with her.

He could’ve let it go in that moment, but his wounded pride wouldn’t let him.  “I wouldn’t say a lot slower.  Maybe a little,” he muttered.

She rounded on him.  “Wait, you know what I’m talking about?  Where was…”  She trailed off, peering closer into his face.  “Corroded Coffin,” she breathed.  “That was you!”

“Well, not just me,” he said with false modesty.  “Jeff and Freak were there, too.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, staring up at him with wide, wistful eyes.  “You remembered all this time?”

Those were dangerous waters best left undisturbed for now.  He teasingly nudged her nose with his own.  “You forgot all this time?”

“I’m sorry!”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.  I’d’ve forgot, too, in your shoes.”  She pouted at that.  Unable to resist that lower lip, he ducked his head and gave it a nibble.  He kissed her until she melted into him, until the stands were mostly empty.  Taking her hand in his, he led her down the aisle.  “We got there eventually, though, right?  That’s what counts.”

“Yeah,” she sighed happily, “we got there.”

“Thank you, Hawkins!  You’ve been real!” 

“Jeff, you’re so full of shit,” Eddie muttered, ducking out of his guitar strap and leaning it on the stand.  

“Gotta work the crowd, man.  Even when they suck.”  Jeff unplugged the mic and collapsed the stand.  “Keeps ‘em coming back for more.”

“More of what?  This was our last show!”

The four of them bickered as they broke down their set for the night.  Last call was five minutes ago, and the handful of drunks were downing their last drinks before they got sent home.

Once everything was packed up, it was time to lug it all outside.  The air was cooler in the small dirt parking lot, but still held the humid weight of mid-August.  The one street lamp in the lot illuminated the van like an aura.  The light gleamed on the fresh paint job he and Chrissy gave it over the summer.  Somehow, the castles and unicorns she’d painted in pastel colors looked right at home with the dark towers, bats, and skulls he’d added.  

Loading all the gear into the van took longer than usual on account of the boxes and suitcases already stowed away in there.  They had to arrange everything just so in order to get it all to fit.

“I’m gonna miss this place,” Gareth said, giving it one last look.

“Why?  The only applause we got all night was when we said we weren’t coming back,” Freak pointed out.

“I dunno, man, it’s home.”

Eddie couldn’t agree.  Yeah, the Hideout was their first real venue, but it wasn’t home.  Home was the petite blonde sitting in the driver’s seat, the mix tape of their favorite songs already playing through the speakers.

He leaned through the window to give her a peck on the lips.  “Hey, princess.  You sure you’re good to drive?  It’s late.”

“Yeah, and I’m not the one who just played a gig,” she retorted.  She patted the passenger seat.  “Get some sleep, baby.  I’ll wake you up if I get too tired.”

“Yeah, but - “

“But nothing.  It runs better when I drive, anyway.”

He couldn’t argue with that.  Ever since they made things official, the van had behaved itself.  It started smoothly on the first try, the doors stopped sticking, even the passenger window started working again.  Chrissy insisted that it just needed a little TLC.  She’d made it her mission to get it clean and smelling nice, and even managed to sweet-talk Hargrove into giving it a tune-up for just a half-ounce of weed.  

Personally, Eddie thought the van just liked Chrissy.  It only purred like that when she was behind the wheel, and he swore it did better on gas when she drove.  

Maybe it wasn’t smart to start a road trip at two in the morning, but he didn’t regret it.  This town had precious few truly good memories for him, and playing with his band was one of the best.  He wanted to leave on a high note, with as little fuss as possible.  Chrissy, not wanting to deal with her parents, was fully on-board.

Jeff, Gareth, and Freak took off in the used sedan Freak’s parents got him as a graduation present.  That was for the best; he drove about as erratically as Eddie did, to Chrissy’s tolerant disapproval.

As the van took off at a more sedate pace, Eddie took one last look at Hawkins through the reflection of the rear view mirror.  If he had his way, that was where this godforsaken town would stay: in the distance behind them.

“Ready to start over?” Chrissy asked, projecting her voice over that one Blondie song he tolerated.

He smiled, reclining his seat back as far as their baggage allowed.  “With you, princess?  I’m ready for anything.”