#“ted c’mon its been almost two months since it released—“

[3142-redgrave-avenue]

I CANT FUCKING TAKE IT ANYMORE THEY MADE HIM TIKTOK ANIME BOY BAIT. HE IS NOT A DUMB HIMBO THAT CAN’T DO MATH. HIS PERSONALITY IS NOT ALL SMOOTH TALKING FLIRTY WHITE HAIRED GUY WITH A SMIRK. IF HE LOST TO DANCE DANCE REVOLUTION HE WOULD NOT PASS OUT FROM THE SHOCK OF LOSING. HE’D PROBABLY JUST GO: “Aw man.” OR PUNCH THE MACHINE DEPENDING ON WHERE IN THE TIMELINE THAT IS.

THEY MADE HIM INTO A MARKETABLE TIKTOK ANIME BOY AND THATS HOW PEOPLE PERCEIVE HIM

[flamehairedwritings]

Happiest Season Of All

Characters: Chief Jim Hopper x Female Reader

Rating: M, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Happy Holidays! Phew, it’s been a while. Here is a kind of drabble, and also kind of a sequel to Pain In My Heart? Set the year before S1, there’s no mentions of family, no use of Y/N, and it’s just a gentle, kind of angsty little story.

This story contains broken hearts, swearing, alcohol and embarrassment.

I hope you enjoy and have a lovely week!

Summary: Broken up with just before Christmas? Fantastic. The only thing that can help is returning to your home town, old friends... and an old love.

Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or repost my work; credit does not count.

—

23rd December 1982

‘... There'll be parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting, and carolling out in the snow...’

You quietly hum along absent-mindedly to the cassette someone’s playing from a boombox, gazing out of the window. Usually, you’d have been annoyed but, hey, it’s the holidays.

Besides, you haven’t had much of a chance to get into the festive spirit or mood recently. With the classic Christmas song playing, the train rumbling gently and the twinkling lights in the darkness slowly growing brighter, you’re finally starting to feel it. Inhaling a breath, you lean your temple against the cold glass, your fingers lacing together in your lap as you gaze at the lights.

Hawkins, Indiana. Your hometown.

It’s been a few years since you were here for longer than a weekend but, oh, boy, this year you just need to be here. You’re retreating, you’re not too proud to admit, coming home to lick your wounds and be surrounded by all things familiar, cosy and boring.

You almost laugh. You’d left this place because it was so damn boring and now here you are, craving it. If teenage you could see you now. She’d be giving ‘that’ look which you’re told you still give to this day. 

Ah, well. Time’s a bitch, baby.

The train slows as it pulls into the station and you start to gather your things while a few others around you stand and pull their bags down from the overhead racks. You pull your suitcases down as the train comes to a stop, all three of them, with their different colours and patterns. Pulling on your scarf, coat and rucksack, you haul the suitcases down the aisle as best as you can single-file, muttering under your breath as they catch every few steps against chairs.

The wheels clatter onto the concrete of the cold platform when you step down, one suitcase twisting onto its front and tangling with the others as it nearly falls from your hand. Muttering under your breath again, you right it and continue walking down the platform, two small groups of people reuniting having to part for you. Making eye contact with a grateful smile, you’re relieved you don’t recognise any of them; you’re really not in the mood for your own reunion right now.

“There she is!”

Well, just the one.

A smile spreads across your face as Karen Wheeler trots down the platform in her heeled boots, grinning and her arms open wide. The suitcases drop from your hands as you throw your arms around one another, rocking from side to side slightly.

“Oooh, hello, sweetheart,” Karen murmurs, pressing a big, wet kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, Karrie.”

Your smile lingers, and it’s the first genuine one you’ve had in a while. Karen has worn the same perfume since high school and it puts you at ease instantly. God, you just love her. You talk on the phone every other week and have done since you moved out of Hawkins; she’s been the most consistent friend in your life and you love her with all your damn heart.

“C’mon, give me those, let’s get out of here, it’s freezing...” Pulling back, she takes two of the suitcases from you before you can protest and starts striding down the platform.

You have to do a quick little jog to catch up with her, marvelling, not for the first or even fortieth time, how she can go so quickly in those heels. It’s a short walk to the exit, made shorter by Karen’s pace, and she’s parked right outside. Wonderful. Opening the trunk, you both bundle your suitcases in, tossing your rucksack on top of it, and then do a speedy little walk to the doors, yanking them open.

“Oof, coldest winter we’ve had in years,” Karen shivers dramatically in her seat as she rubs her gloved hands together before buckling her seatbelt.

Buckling your own as she eases out onto the road, you blow out a breath. “Yeah, definitely feels that way.”

“So, how was the journey?”

“Oh, the usual, long but fine. It was a lot emptier than I expected.”

“Well, we keep hearing there’s gonna be a blizzard, so some folks have come home a little earlier.”

“Well, that’s smart.”

“Yeah. Means I keep bumping into people at the store that I wish I could avoid, though, and on the street.” She snorts as she glances at you. “Ugh, I bumped into Peggy Dawnes the other day, remember her? She would not stop talking about her perfect life on her perfect farm with her perfect husband and her perfect kids and her perfect lawn. Well, there were ten bottles of wine in her cart and I know for a fact her mother doesn’t drink and her perfect husband only likes neat whisky, so, there.”

“Oh.”

You cringe internally at your short reply, but you really can’t think of what else to say. Karen glances at you again, pausing. You look over at her and find the sympathy you’ve only been able to hear during the last few weeks. She reaches over and pats your knee gently before returning her hand to the wheel.

“Oh, sweetheart... How are you doing?”

You release a breath, raising your eyebrows slightly. “Better for being here, already. But, y’know...”

She gives you a sympathetic smile as she pats your knee again. “Don’t worry, toots, like I said you can stay as long as you want, it’s no trouble at all.”

You return her smile, relieved that you find you don’t have to force it. “Thank you.”

“No worries.” Her smile widens as she tilts her head. "The kids are looking forward to having you with us, you know how much they love you. It’ll do us all some good.”

You don’t ask about Ted because you know not to.

“I can’t wait to see them, too. How have they been?”

You gaze out of the windshield as she tells you how Nancy and Mike are doing at school and how many words Holly can say now, your eyes flitting from house to house. Decorations are out in full force, as they should be, they’ve probably been up since the 1st of the month, and it makes you smile to see them, remembering how you and Karen would go from house to house when you were younger and rate them out of 10 candy canes.

Ah, the simple life.

She’s still chatting about Mike and his friends when she turns down onto their long drive. It’s lined with various Christmas lawn ornaments, most lit up. Lights line the inside of some of the many windows of the house, too, making it look gorgeous and cosy and warm. A curtain is yanked back suddenly and Mike’s face appears, grinning. He waves frantically and you smile instantly, waving back with your eyebrows raised.

My favourite, funny little kid.

He’s already at the wide open door when Karen parks, still grinning. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you open the door and step out only to have him nearly slam into you before you can straighten, hugging you tightly.

“You’re here!”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him just as fiercely. “Hey, buddy. You okay?”

“Yeah. C’mon, I wanna show you this book I got...” He’s already out of your arms and waving you towards the door, which Karen is muttering about the heat being let out of.

Chuckling to yourself, you help her with your suitcases and rucksack, feeling vastly different to how you did ten minutes ago; they never fail to raise your spirits. Nancy greets you as you enter, smiling widely and also ready for a hug. You give it gladly and just as fiercely as you had with Mike, asking her how she is. She shrugs and just says “Fine,” with a smile as you remove your shoes and coat, and you marvel at how she’d once been as talkative as Mike when she was younger. You hear the boy himself calling from the basement, telling you he can’t currently find the book but it’s around here someone and you’re gonna love it! You follow Karen up the stairs to the guest room with a wide smile, calling back your thanks to him.

Passing walls lined with family photographs, it’s a short walk down the hall to the room you’ll be staying in for... well, who knows. Karen opens the door with a trilled, “Ta-da!” and you laugh as you take in the sight before you. It’s completely decked out in Christmas decorations; tinsel on every bit of furniture, snow-globes on the window sill, a polar bear stuffed toy on the bed, fairy-lights around the headboard. You’d roll your eyes at the excessiveness of it if it wasn’t so damn sweet.

“Wow, it’s like Santa’s Grotto in here...”

“Eh, close enough, I wanted fake snow on the ground but Ted vetoed that idea pretty quick.”

You snort, hauling the suitcase you’re carrying onto the bench at the end of the bed and dropping your rucksack onto it before sitting on the bed, your fingers running over the blanket Karen’s mother had crocheted. Nancy lingers in the doorway, and after leaning your other suitcases against a chest of drawers, Karen turns to her, making a shooing gesture.

“All right, go on, Nance, us hot young things need to get ready.”

“Ugh, Mom...” Nancy just about manages to stop herself from rolling her eyes as she turns away and heads back down the hall while you stare at Karen.

“Uh... Ready for what? Bed?”

“No,” Karen laughs, and you suddenly notice she’s going through your suitcase on the bench, rifling through and pulling various items out. “We’re going out, to the bar.”

“The bar?”

“Yes, the bar.”

You’re still staring at her. “Where everyone we know goes?”

Karen shrugs, looking at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah, ‘cause it’s still the only good bar in Hawkins.”

“I thought you wanted to avoid everyone.”

“Eh, yeah, but... y’know, only good bar in Hawkins. And...” Oh, no, she’s looking sheepish, her head bowing slightly as she glances from you to some of your clothes she’s pulled out. “... Uh, we’re kinda having a party here tomorrow, anyway, so...”

“What?”

Her eyebrows shoot up, her hands raising. “It just kinda happened. It’s been years since we’ve had one and Ted and I were talking about it and then I saw Mary-Lou at Mike’s school and I just happened to mention it and she got so excited and then I got excited and it just, it suddenly happened.”

Your lips press together as you exhale a short breath. “Well, they were fun...”

“Yeah, they were, weren’t they?” Karen sits beside you with a nostalgic sigh, shaking her head. “We had some of the best times of our lives at ‘em.”

“Yeah... I remember the one after you gave birth to Nancy, I thought I was gonna have to take you to the hospital.”

“Ha! Thank God my Mom came over to look after her. What about the one where you set fire to the tree?”

“Oh, please don’t remind me, and that wasn’t actually my fault, you know,”

“Ha, yeah, sure, that was great...”

You both sigh together, a smile finding its way onto your lips at all the memories that come flooding back. They had been fun. You hadn’t been able to attend every one over the years but the ones you had had been so great they’d almost made you want to stay in Hawkins. Maybe... Maybe a return to a beloved tradition is exactly what you need.

Turning your head to her, you arch an eyebrow. “You didn’t think to tell me it was happening, though?”

Karen shrugs as she smiles. “I didn’t want you to talk yourself out of enjoying it before it had even happened. Same as tonight.”

“Oh, Karrie...” You huff out a breath. “... You know me too well, it’s so annoying. Ugh, I was so looking forward to just curling up on the couch, drinking and watching some of the classics.”

“I know.” She pats your knee, nudging her shoulder against yours. “And we’re gonna do that the day after Christmas, and every day that you want to while you’re here. But tonight, we’re gonna get fancy and go out and get a little bit drunk. It’s Christmas, c’moooon.”

You just can’t help but smile. “All right. All right! Fine. How long have I got?”

“An hour.”

 “What—”

She’s already on her feet, pointing at you as she heads to the door. “Take a shower while I cook us and the kids something up, and then we’ll get ready. okay?”

You know you have absolutely no choice in the matter. “Okay, fine.”

 “Great!” she beams, reaching for the door handle to close it behind herself. She pauses, though, resting her weight on one foot as she clears her throat. “Oh, and uh... he’s probably gonna be there.”

You don’t have to ask who she’s referring to.

Staring at her, you manage to keep your features expressionless. “Oh. Really?”

“Yeah.” She’s watching you carefully, teeth grazing over her lower lip. “He is nearly every night, apparently, according to Marian.”

Raising your eyebrows slightly, you smile. “Well... maybe he won’t be.”

“Yeah, maybe he won’t be...” She’s still watching you, a gentle smile pulling at her lips. “Shower, toots.”

“Okay, okay...” You wave your hand as she pulls the door closed, hearing her move down the hallway.

The moment you hear her heading down the stairs, you release a long breath, lying back on the bed.

Oh, shit... 

Well.

You stare at the ceiling as the realisation suddenly dawns on you.

I might see Jim Hopper tonight.

James Hopper. Jim. Hopper. Hop. Chief, also now, not that you’ve ever been around to call him that.

You’d been friends since you were kids, best friends actually, at one point closer than you and Karen had been, and then feelings had developed when you'd become teenagers and then you’d taken the leap and had started dating and then...

You’d broken up.

And you’d been the one to initiate it.

And you’d done that because, well... It was because of a lot of little things. Mainly, though, you hadn’t known what route you wanted to take, college or work, you hadn’t even known what you wanted to do, but you knew you wanted to get out of Hawkins. And Hop... hadn’t known what the hell he wanted to do either, but he hadn’t even thought about it. He’d spoken once or twice about joining the military, or just starting a job, too. College hadn’t even crossed his mind. The conversation had come up and, well, it hadn’t ended well. 

In fact, when it ended, that has been the last time you’ve spoken to him. As you’ve returned home over the years you’ve heard he did join the military, fought in Vietnam, came home, married, and lived in New York the same time you had. You’d been heartbroken to hear from Karen that his daughter had died, and he’d divorced and moved back home.

Now, he’s Chief of Hawkins Police and, well, you’d love to avoid seeing him at all costs. There can come a time when, having not seen someone in decades, you can’t even have a casual conversation because all both parties are doing is screaming in their heads.

Well. Like you’d said yourself. He might not be there.

Hey, as Chief of Police this is probably a very busy time of year and he’ll be off doing something.

It’s gonna be fine.

Absolutely fine.

After showering, you throw on some clean, comfy clothes and head downstairs to eat with Karen and the kids.

Holly sits at the table in her highchair, silent as ever, well, being two years old she only knows a handful of words, but she just stares at you as she has done since she was a baby. Mike talks non-stop about school and his friends while Nancy chimes in every now and then to talk about her own friends, saying names of people in her class that you take a moment or two to remember, and to mutter insults at him while he mutters them back.

Karen half-heartedly tells them to stop in between telling you what she might wear, and you somehow manage to keep up with all conversations. Frankly, it’s also quite nice after being surrounded by mostly silence for the last few weeks.

Whipping your plate away from you seconds after you finish, Karen is up and striding to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder.

“C’mon! Let’s get sexy!”

Your lips twitch as Mike and Nancy groan, the only thing they can agree on right now being that their Mom is a complete and utter embarrassment.

She practically shoves you up the stairs, trying to get you to move faster, and from then on the next 30 minutes feels like a whirlwind. She tries on six outfits before settling on her usual favourite, and changes in your room while you rifle through what you’ve brought. Luckily, even though you can’t really remember packing, you’ve brought some of your own favourites, and, after scrambling to find some shoes to go with them, she helps you decide on an old classic.

Gazing at you, her hands on her hips, she beams with delight.

“Well, look at you, huh! Fancy lady!”

You give a twirl as she whoops, and then her arm is looping through yours and she’s practically dragging you towards the door.

“Bye, guys, we’ll be back late!” she calls out, though no one answers, too busy doing their own thing. 

You haven’t seen any sign of Ted and, once again, you know not to ask.

“Late? How late is late?” you ask with an arched eyebrow as she hurries you down the stairs.

“Oh, come on, not that late, we’re not gonna get wasted, we’re not teenagers anymore.”

—

“... God, I hate it...”

The stall door slams against the cubicle wall as you pull it open a little more forcefully than you had intended. Holding it for a moment, you exhale a short breath before moving towards the sinks, only swaying a little. Washing your hands, you glance up at Karen, watching her try to reapply her lipstick as neatly as possible.

“And did you hear Julian is engaged? And Andrea has a new boyfriend? Is it me or is everybody getting into a relationship?”

She snorts, rubbing her lips together. “It’s that time of year, folks hate being lonely at Christmas.”

You scoff, turning the tap off and drying your hands. “Just sleep with people, then, doesn’t mean you have to get into a relationship and hog someone all to yourself.”

She laughs, slipping her lipstick back into her bag before turning to you, a hand on her hip. “Oh, babe... C’mon, let’s find you someone to have meaningless sex with it.”

“Okay.”

The bar has been heaving from the moment you’d arrived. It usually is, but tonight the place is rammed, perhaps because of the time of year, but maybe more because, it turns out, there’s an offer on drinks, it being the holiday season and all, and happy hour has lasted more than one hour. More than two. It’s nearing three now.

Each sip has helped you relax, even as Karen gasps and points out old high school classmates, filling you in on every detail of their lives she’s learned. So far, incredibly gladly, she’s not pointed out a certain Chief.

Returning to your table, which a guy you don’t recognise has been guarding for you, as in literally guarding, he has his hands behind his back and is saying, “Nah, move along, this ain’t free...” to anyone who looks like they’re going to swoop in. At spotting you both, he grins and holds his arms out wide, gesturing at the table.

“All free for you, m’ladies.”

You’re unable to stop a smile because there’s something so weirdly charming about this absolute goofball of a man. He takes a seat beside Karen as you sit, the two of them having been exchanging small talk that verged on flirting. Heck, it was flirting. Sipping from your drink as you watch them, you feel a small, familiar twist in your stomach.

Karen is more like her teenage self when she’s with you, but when you see her with Ted, no longer Teddy as he had been in high school, and the kids, she’s Karen the mom, like she’s caged her personality in and doesn’t quite know how to bring the two parts of herself together. When she’d come to visit you once last year, you’d gone out to a bar and you’d watched her flirt with a couple of the men there. You’d thought it was harmless at first, just a bit of fun for her, she’s a charismatic lady, but then something had changed and, as a guy had held her hand, stroking it, and she hadn’t pulled away, you’d felt a twist in your stomach.

She’s gonna have an affair one day.

The thought had come to you so suddenly and so sharply that you’d shoved it away with all your might, horrified with yourself. No, Karen wouldn’t do that... Would she? Since then, you’d become more and more unsure. You’ve stopped asking about Ted when you talk because she’d just sigh heavily and spend the next ten minutes pointing out every flaw he has, how the romance has gone, how she’s tried and nothing happens. You know she’s unhappy, but you just can’t see her doing it. You hope not, anyway.

Looking away from them, you watch a few people dancing, Christmas music flowing out of the speakers above.

Karen laughs at something the guy says, and in the corner of your eye you see her place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, that’s too funny! You’re really funny... Sorry, what’s your name again?”

The man is unfazed, still grinning. “Callahan. Phil Callahan.”

He says it with such an atrocious Sean Connery accent, making Karen burst out laughing again, and it makes you smile, too.

“Oh, big James Bond fan, huh?” she says, her elbow on the table, chin in her hand.

“Oh, yeah, it’s why I became a cop.”

Your gaze darts to him. “You’re a cop?”

He raises his hands as he laughs. “Yeah, but, hey, you go on and drink as much as you want, I’m off duty now.”

Karen laughs and you make yourself join in, but your heart has started to beat a little faster.

Oh, stop it, he’s not here.

You take a quick sip of your drink again to cover the fact you aren’t laughing anymore, and then Callahan looks up, his grin widening somehow as he waves his hand frantically.

“Hey, boss, over here!”

Boss?

Boss.

The entire room seems to slow down as you turn your head and see a man, who’s stopped for a moment to shake hands with someone, with brown hair and a neatly clipped beard, wearing a brown leather jacket, plaid shirt and jeans, his eyebrows raised—

Oh, God.

Oh, shit.

Oh fucking Lord in the manger.

Callahan is slapping his hand against the vacant seat at the table, that happens to be close to you, practically shouting, “Hop’, here, saved ya a seat!”

You swiftly turn back around, staring at Karen. She’s frozen, staring at you, and for the next three seconds you somehow communicate an entire conversation with just your eyebrows and eyes.

Both of you seem to agree on fuuuuuuck.

You can’t just get up and leave, that would be the most obvious thing in the entire world. What if he doesn’t recognise you? Yeah, maybe you’ll be so incredibly fucking lucky and it’ll be a Christmas miracle and you’ll somehow have just disappeared from his memory.

Swallowing hard as you hear him move past a group behind you with an “Excuse me,” you rest your hands on the table, gripping them together.

“Hey, Callahan, where’s everybody else?”

Oh, his voice has changed. It’s deeper, rougher.

“Oh, well, Powell said he and his wife are gonna come later when he finishes his shift, and Jones, Davids and Williamson are over there, they’ve been waitin’ to get a drink for ages.” Callahan laughs delightedly, and Karen joins in, giving a slightly nervous one.

It draws Hopper’s attention and you don’t dare look up to see his expression but there’s a note of surprise in his tone.

“Karen, hey, you doin’ okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” And then she panics. “We’re just having a night out.” And then she panics more when she realises what she’s said, and that she’s gestured at you, her eyes as wide as her now somewhat manic smile.

Oh. God.

Lifting your head, you automatically smile, your features frozen.

“Hi.”

Hi.

He looks from Karen to you, and you’re suddenly subject to the full force of Jim Hopper’s gaze for the first time in decades.

Oh. God.

You can’t help it; the memories of the last time you saw him flood your mind.

“Hop’, are you even listening to me?”

He swiftly puts down the ball of rubberbands he’d been picking at on your desk, his eyebrows raised as he looks to you.

“Yeah, yeah, course I am.”

Your own eyebrows rise even higher, your hands lifted. “What, then?”

He tilts his head slightly, grazing his teeth over his lower lip. “’What’, what?”

“You weren’t fucking listening—”

“No, I was,” he quickly says at your weary sigh, leaning forward in the chair and resting his elbows on his knees, an easy smile pulling at his lips. “C’mon, just repeat the last part.”

You’d once found this all charming and endearing.

Your hands going to your waist, you exhale another breath before folding your arms, managing to calm yourself.

“What are you gonna do after school?”

Hop’ shrugs, leaning back again. “I don’t know. What are you gonna do?”

It was just the answer you’d feared, and expected. Licking your lips, you glance down at the carpet before steeling yourself and meeting his gaze again.

You can do this.

“I’m thinking of moving.”

He nods, his smile returning. “Okay, where?”

“I don’t know. New York, maybe. There’s jobs there and I have a friend there, I could stay with her for a bit.”

“Or we could get a place together.”

You stare at him, feeling your stomach twist.

“So... you’re, you’re just gonna follow me where I go.”

“Yeah.” His brow dips slightly, the smile still there, though it’s hesitant. “Aren’t girlfriends supposed to be happy when their boyfriends say that?”

“Yeah, but... What do you want to do?”

Hop’ shrugs again. “I don’t know. I know I wanna be with you, though.”

You’d once have quietly swooned at that and given him a fond smile. Now, though... You want more.

“Hop’, I don’t... I don’t wanna be one of those high school couples that just sticks together because they’re together. I want you to actually want this.”

He’s frowning again, confusion starting to set in. “I do.”

You say it quietly. “I don’t think you do.”

He stares at you, all traces of his smile gone. Then, he scoffs, leaning back in his chair a little more as he folds his arms.

“So now you’re tellin’ me what I do and don’t feel?”

“No, I just, I want you to have some drive, some ambition, not just go along with what I say and do.”

“I go along with it because it’s what I want.”

You can feel tears stinging at your eyes but your mind has also been made up.

“I don’t think it is, I just think it’s easy and safe for you.”

“Stop tellin’ me what I’m feelin’!”

His voice raising makes yours, too.

“Am I wrong?”

He looks at you like he has no idea who you are, and for some reason that really pisses you off because you don’t really recognise him anymore, either.

“Why are you pushing me away?!”

“I’m not, I—”

“Where has all this come from, then?!”

“I don’t know if I want this!”

Silence falls.

You swallow thickly as he stares at you, your voice cracking slightly.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but... y’know, Karrie and Teddy, they... I look at them and at Joyce and Lonnie and they’re so happy, they know what they want, and they can’t wait to get married and settled down, here, but...”

“You don’t want that,” he finishes for you, quietly.

You speak after a moment, your tone matching his. “I don’t.”

“You don’t want me.”

That sends a knife through your heart because honestly? You have no idea. 

Shaking your head, you close your eyes for a moment. “No, yes, I... I don’t know. I care so much about you, but... I just think we’re on different paths.”

His gaze drops as your words linger in the air. Clearing his throat, he glances up at you again.

“What if we just take a break, for a bit. Or I can come up and visit you, in New York.”

He’s just a boy, you suddenly think, your heart breaking.

Biting at your lower lip to stop it from trembling, you give a small shrug. “I think that wouldn’t be fair on us both.”

He nods slowly, his jaw moving, and you’ve never seen him this distant. Raising his eyebrows slightly, he stands.

“Seems you already had this all figured out.”

“No, no, I didn’t, I just don’t want to be unfair to you—”

“Could I have said anything that would have changed your mind?” His quiet words silence you, and you have to stifle a sob.

“... No.”

Hop gazes at you, and after several moments he nods. “Good luck with everything.”

You’d burst into tears the moment he’d left your room. The front door had slammed shut and as you’d sat on your bed and cried and cried you’d heard his car door slam, too. You’d cried for days, going between telling yourself you’d made a huge mistake, and then that you’d done what was best, that he didn’t appreciate you like he used to and it wasn’t your job to fix him and coach him through life and that... yeah, you’d fallen out of love with him.

You hadn’t just lost a boyfriend that day, though, you’d also lost your best friend.

You loved Karen but there was just something different about Hop’, something that made you feel safe and like you could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge. As you’d moved away and the months had gone on, several triumphs and bad days had happened, and all you’d wanted to do was just pick up the phone to call him and tell him. You’d stopped yourself every time.

Then, at some unremarkable point, you’d just stopped getting that urge, and life had moved on.

Oh, it certainly had moved on.

You stare at him, trying to look without looking. You can still see the face of the teenager you once knew, though with the beard and the lines at the corners of his eyes he’s very much a man now.

God, is he a man.

He was tall when you’d known him, but is he taller now, somehow? Had he had another growth spurt in his twenties? His hands are huge, too, and he’d been confident back then but it had come from cockiness whereas now he just seems quietly so, more sure of himself.

And you have absolutely no idea what he’s thinking. He’s staring at you so expressionlessly that you believe for a moment or two he actually has forgotten you.

Then, he speaks

“Hey. Been a long time.”

Hey. Been. A. Long. Time.

Said like you didn’t once whisper “I love you” to each other and share every single secret you’d ever had.

Then again, all you’d been able to muster up was a ‘Hi’.

You’re still smiling and you don’t know how to stop.

“Yeah, it has.”

“How are you?”

“Fine, thank you, you?”

“Yeah, good. You home for the holidays?”

“Yep.”

He runs his fingers over his mouth as he nods, and oh my God, he’s attractive. Is he, or is it the alcohol?

Wanting to banish the thoughts from your mind and distract yourself, you quickly continue.

“I’m staying with Karen.”

“That’s nice.” It’s said absolutely expressionlessly. “Just ‘till the new year?”

“Uhm, indefinitely. I’m, I’m working, uh, going through, uh, I’m moving, at the moment.”

“Okay. Well, I hope it goes okay.”

Oh my God, he’s winding down the conversation. He’s gonna go.

And you’re still smiling.

“Thank you.”

Nodding, he glances at Callahan. “I’m gonna go and check in with the others, see how they are.”

Callahan just nods once, his gaze flicking from you to Hopper and back again with utter confusion.

Rising, Hopper glances from Karen to you.

“See you around.”

“Yeah, bye, happy holidays,” you answer, Karen possibly unable to speak.

His lips move slightly, possibly into a faint smile. “Yeah, to you, too.”

And then he walks away, heading for the bar. Staring at where he’d just been sat, a slightly strangled sound releases from the back of your throat.

“Oh my God, oh my God...”

Looking to Karen, a whole range of emotions are flashing across her face as she tries to find the most comforting one. She fails.

“Oh, babe, oh God, that was horrible.”

“I know, I just, I forgot how to have a conversation, my voice got so high.”

“It did, I don’t know why you did that.”

“Neither do I, oh my God...” Putting your head in your hands, you then quickly lift it after a moment, pressing your lips together as you raise your hands. “Whatever. It’s fine. Let’s just, please, move past it. It’s over, I got it out the way, it was civilised, it’s done.”

“You’re right, you’re so right, please let’s forget it. Let’s drink.”

“Yes, please.”

You tap your glass against Karen’s as she raises it, and both take a long drink.

Oh, God.

That had been... so uneventful you don’t quite know what to do with yourself. In all the times you’d thought about how this exact moment might go, you’d never thought it would be uneventful. You’d imagined yelling, or crying, sometimes even laughing, but this...

Well. It was really like it had meant nothing at all.

You don’t know why it’s getting to you so much. You broke up with him. Of course he’d have moved on and left it all behind, God, you have as well. You’ve both lived your lives, gone through so many things and come out the other side and... A break up when you were teenagers kind of pales in comparison.

Yeah. It’s all fine. In fact, you know what, you’re relieved. It’s mature. It’s done. That’s it. You don’t have to be best friends with him again, for fuck’s sake.

Lowering your drink, you don’t realise your internal monologue has played out on your face, eyes widening and narrowing. Looking up, you find Karen and Callahan staring at you.

Licking your lips, you shrug. “It’s fine. It’s fine. Who wants another drink?”

You’re out of your seat and heading to the bar before they can respond. Karen sits back in her chair as she blinks, watching you stride away.

“Can someone just please tell me what’s going on?” Callahan bursts out, his hands raised.

“Oh, God, sweetie...” Karen sighs, reaching for her drink again. “... I have no fucking clue.”

—————————————————————————————————

24th December 1982

“Ughhh... Oh, God...”

It’s not your own groaning that wakes you, but that of someone else.

Cracking open an eye, you stare up at the ceiling as the groaning continues.

Uh, my mouth is so dry...

Licking your lips, you turn your head and find Karen on the other side of the bed, her hair bedraggled and spilling across the pillow, mascara halfway down her face, lipstick smeared. Turning her own head, she looks at you and groans again.

“Am I alive?”

“I think so,” you rasp, and she groans mournfully.

“Ughhhh... I don’t even remember how we got home...”

Closing your eyes, you scratch at your forehead, trying to remember yourself.

You’d gone to the bar, drank, drank a lot, maybe danced a little, spoken with your old classmate, Jessica? Justine? and then... Oh, what was his name again...

“Callahan,” you murmur, your throat aching. “Callahan brought us home.”

“Oh, yeah... Didn’t we ask him to turn on his lights?”

Your lips twitch as you recall how you’d both screamed with joy and whooped and cheered as he’d turned on the lights, waving your arms from side to side.

You snort and she glances at you. A laugh escapes you as you think about the absurdity of it all, and then she’s laughing, too, her cackle loud and delighted.

“Oh my God... Ugh, that was fun...” she sighs, her smile lingering.

“Yeah...” you murmur, stretching your legs out.

“We’ll have fun tonight, too.” She pats your hand, exhaling a breath. “If we just... If we just sleep ‘till noon, and then we can start preparing the house... Maybe even two, it won’t take long...”

You hum, closing your eyes, and, yeah, sleeping a little longer does sound like a good idea... Besides, when you’re unconscious, you don’t have to think about a certain embarrassing event that happened... 

Perfect.

You focus on the softness of the bed as Karen snores lightly beside you, already fast asleep... Yeah... the joy of unconsciousness...

—

“... Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock... Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring... Snowin' and blowin' up bushels of fun... Now the jingle hop has begun...”

Adjusting a plate on the table, you straighten and blow out a breath, trying to stifle a yawn.

I really can’t handle a night out anymore.

Brushing your hands together, you turn, surveying the party that’s in full-swing. It’s only a couple of hours in but it’s already a success. People are talking, laughing, dancing, singing, eating, drinking, having a merry old time in general really. You feel more proud than you would have thought as your gaze drifts across the room.

You’d had to shake Karen awake at half one, both of you practically dehydrated and feeling not so fresh. After drinking copious amounts of water, showering, changing and finally eating, realising you were both starving, you’d flown around the house together, tidying, cleaning, cooking up food, putting drinks out and decorating. It had been another whirlwind but a wonderful whirlwind. You’d had so much fun, and hadn’t thought once about The Incident. An hour before the party was due to start, you and Karen had gotten ready, selecting slightly more festive outfits than the ones you’d worn last night.

Now, she’s in the kitchen, laughing at something a neighbour is saying, while Mike and Nancy talk in separate corners with some of their friends who have turned up, and Ted, who’d you’d finally bumped in to and greeted, was sat in his armchair, talking with a guy who looked slightly desperate to get away.

The doorbell chimes and you catch Karen’s eye, waving your hand and mouthing, “I’ll get it,”, as you’ve done so for the last few chimes.

You have to carefully push your way past people on the way to the foyer, which is surprisingly empty. Moving to the door, you grip the handle and pull it open, a smile already on your lips.

“Hey—”

You cut yourself off, pausing as you stare up at the man.

Hopper stares back at you, shoulders slightly hunched from the cold, hands in his pockets.

"Hi,” he says, glancing behind you briefly.

"Hey,” you repeat, your heart pounding.

... Whaaaaaat is he doing here?

As if he’s somehow heard your thought, he clears his throat and raises his eyebrows a little. “Uh, Callahan said we were invited.”

Oh, fuck, yes, you’d forgotten Karen had insisted he come, and you, jokingly, had said, ‘Hey, why not invite Hopper, too?’

Haha. Ha. What a hilarious joke. What a hilarious little joke that Callahan clearly hadn’t taken as a joke so it is now real.

Just as you realise you haven’t answered him, he clears his throat again. “Should I—”

“Oh, no, God, sorry, come in.” Holding the door open, you step back, gesturing with your other hand into the foyer.

He steps in, glancing at the party beyond before he turns to you as you close the door, looking up at him.

You’re staring again.

Swallowing, you point at the stairs. “Uh, coats are up here, I’ll show you.”

Before he can answer, you stride to the steps and ascend, gripping the bannister.

Ooh... Ooh, what’s happening... What am I doing...

You’ve shown the last few people up to where the coats are being kept, just in case you can’t see them out, but this is... This is rather intimate.

You hear him behind you, following you up, and you make yourself exhale a long breath to try and calm your heart.

Be an adult.

The coats are being kept where they usually would at a Wheeler party; the guest room, AKA your room. It’s one of the reasons you’ve been basically escorting people up to it, not wanting them to linger in there or have a stranger possibly go through your things.

Pushing the door open, you step in to the dimly lit room and gesture at the bed that’s piled high with coats, scarves and jackets.

“Just here, leave it anywhere.”

He stands in the doorway, hands back in his pockets.

“I’m actually not stayin’ long, I’ve got a shift soon.”

Your hands drop. “Oh. Okay...” You can’t stop a slight frown from crossing your features. “Why did you come up, then?”

Hopper meets your gaze, his jaw moving minutely. “‘cause I want to talk to you.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

You’re sweating, your fingers flexing by your side.

Okay, here we go, he’s gonna yell at me and tell me everything he’s been holding back, here we go...

Shifting his stance, he leans against the doorframe, his gaze holding yours. “Listen, last night, I... I’m sorry I left so abruptly. That wasn’t, uh... polite of me.”

... Well, that’s not what you’d expected.

Your lips parted, you gaze at him. “Uh, no, no, no, it’s fine, I, I completely get it. It’s, uhm...” You pause, swallowing. Then, you smile faintly, and just say it, your voice dropping slightly. “... It’s weird, isn’t it.”

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah, it is.” He lets out a laugh, and for some reason the sound of it warms you. “I was a little taken aback when I saw you, I was totally unprepared.”

“Oh, me, too.” You exhale a laugh, your smile easing. “I wanted to say so many things but my brain wasn’t quite connected to my mouth.” You laugh again, though it’s more nervous this time, because you know if you don’t say it now, you never will. Your tongue gliding across your lips, you raise your hands a little. “Look, Hop, I...” Fuck, it feels strange saying his name again. “... I’m sorry for how things ended between us.”

Hopper’s already shaking his head before you’ve finished, a slight dip to his brow. “Don’t be. I think it was the kick up the ass I needed, and I knew you were right. Took me a little while to admit that, but, yeah.”

“Still, I could have given us a chance—”

“We were kids,” he cuts you off gently with a light smile, shrugging. “Neither of us knew what we were doin’ or how to handle somethin’ like that.”

You snort. “I still don’t.”

A corner of his mouth lifts a little higher. “Yeah, me, too.” Grazing his teeth over his lower lip, you watch him as he seems to consider something, your cheeks heating slightly at his intense gaze. “... Stop me if I’m, uh, treadin’ where I shouldn’t, but, and I’m just connectin’ the dots here, you said you’re stayin’ in Hawkins indefinitely, is that because something similar has happened?”

You give a faint smile, pointing a finger at him as you raise your eyebrows. “Yeah, you got me. I, uhm...” Here we go... “... I broke up with my fiancé. Or, he broke up with me, actually.” Your smile widens a little more. “Good connecting, you must be a great Chief.”

“Well, I do my best.” He looks sympathetic in a way that is mercifully not pitying. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks. I feel like shit every day, but, it was for the best. He was an asshole. I just didn’t want to see it.”

“How come he did the breaking up, then?”

You fold your arms, exhaling a breath. “He met someone else. Didn’t even bother to hide it or save my feelings. Just told me.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, it really did.”

“Still,” he nods his head at you, “you seem much better off.”

You feel a little proud at that, because, actually, you feel like a mess. “Thanks. Karen’s letting me stay here until I figure out what I wanna do. I don’t even know if I like my job anymore or if it’s just everything that’s going on making me feel like I hate it, or maybe I have hated it for a while and I just don’t want to admit that to myself either.” You catch yourself from continuing, releasing a sheepish laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m just rambling on now, you can go back down—”

“Nah, it’s okay, I like listenin’ to you.”

He says it so sincerely, holding your gaze, that you don’t quite know what to do. Biting at your lower lip briefly, you look away for a few moments, your fingers twisting together.

“Well... Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You can hear the smile in his tone, so you look up, and God...

You’ve missed that smile.

His expression is so soft, too, so gentle and...

No, no, no, no... No, it’s just because you’re sad and it’s Christmas and—

Clearing his throat, he leans an arm against the chest of drawers beside the door.

“Y’know, I... I’ve thought about you over the years, thought about reachin’ out. I heard from someone years ago that you were in New York and I... I told myself I was gonna look you up but... I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Didn’t know if you’d even want to see me.”

A smile pulls at your lips, your chest aching slightly. “I think I would have.” Biting at your lower lip again, you take a breath. “... I’ve thought about you, too. Sometimes I think about if I made the biggest mistake of my life in leaving you.”

He blinks, before quickly smiling, shaking his head. “Like I said, we were just kids. We didn’t know any better.”

“I know.”

You’re gazing at each other again, quietly.

Don’t.

Clearing your throat, you make yourself smile. “I’m so sorry, I should have offered you a drink, I—”

“Would you like to go out for a drink?” he asks, so swiftly that it’s as if he’d been waiting to. “So we can catch up properly?”

Staring at him, you feel something quietly ignite within you. He looks somewhat nervous, and for some reason it calms you instantly.

A softer smile returning to your lips, you nod. “I’d like that.”

One corner of his mouth lifts a little higher than the other as he straightens, his hands falling to his sides. “Good. Okay. I’ll call. I gotta head out now, sorry, I just wanted to drop by before my shift.”

He wanted to drop by... to see me.

Trying to contain your smile, you move towards him, heading for the door. “It’s okay, I’ll walk you out.”

“Thanks.”

You head down the hallway and stairs in silence, your heart fluttering wildly. You’re suddenly very aware of your body, and of his right behind you, and oh my God, when was the last time I felt this way?

Pulling the door open, you hold it for him as you smile.

“Well, I hope your shift goes okay.”

“Thanks.”

He’s stood before you, a hand in his pocket, and he doesn’t move.

Then, his other hand moves to rest on your arm gently as he lowers his head and presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

Oh, fuck.

His lips brushing against your skin makes your heart stop and every inch of your skin warm. It’s brief, far too brief, and when he pulls his head back to look at you, you desperately hope you don’t look as flustered as you feel.

Giving a slightly breathless smile, you hold his gaze. “Merry Christmas, Hop’.”

The smile he gives in return has you feeling a way you know you haven’t in years.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

—————————————————————————————————

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[teasoundsgood]

(Artichoke) Hearts Chapter 1

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Read here or on 1DFF

You UV Blue me away

***

If I had to pinpoint the root of all my problems it would be the YogaWorks Brentwood prenatal yoga class of 1994.

Now, in their defense, Janet Cleveland, Laura Adams, and Heather Franklin (now Heather Baranoski) had no clue the havoc their actions would reek on my life at the time. They were all just hormonal pregnant woman who wanted to tree pose and breathe and whatever else you do in prenatal yoga class. But after meeting in class and bonding over vomiting on yoga mats and the whole having unborn children in their wombs thing, these four mothers became the best of friends and simultaneously caused all of my problems for the past 21 years and probably for the rest of my life.

John Quincy Adams was born at 7:41PM October 31, 1994

Grover Cleveland was born at 3:15AM November 2, 1994

And finally Franklin Delano Roosevelt was born at 10:52PM November 4, 1994 followed 9 minutes later by his twin sister Teddy Roosevelt. Me.

Why, you ask, did 3 severely pregnant women decide that naming all of their children after dead US presidents was a good idea? Well, that you’ll have to ask them because I have no clue. All I do know is that being the youngest—no matter if its only weeks, days, or mere minutes—of a group of boys who don’t understand that just because you’re all named after some dead guys doesn’t mean you have to be together all the time was a recipe for disaster.

And I’m a cook so I should know.

Not a professional cook though. College took up way too much time for that, but I did have a food blog that was doing pretty well. (Artichoke) Hearts was organized by season (fall, spring, summer, winter, and holidays), meal time (breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks), and type (meat, vegetarian, vegan—my mom wanted me to add a kosher section, but that would mean I would have to actually cook kosher). It wasn’t hugely popular—like say, I don’t know, an up-and-coming currently touring band with two #1 singles on iTunes—but BuzzFeed Food used a good number of my recipes and I had a solid following of moms who appreciated my organization, food photography skills, and my clever analogies in my pre-recipe articles.

Oh, the recipes were pretty good too.

Not that anyone in my family would know. They were all terrible besides Isabelle, but I’m not at all related to her so she didn’t count. Holly was getting pretty good at being my kitchen assistant, but she was eight and technically only related to Isabelle (and a sperm donor with an IQ of 167 and no family history of medical problems). But my father, brother, and mother were still learning how to boil pasta. How I was born into a family of non-cooks I would never know, but it was probably the reason I was so good at cooking.

At seven I was tired of take-out, frozen food, and PB&Js so I learned to make eggs and pasta.

At ten I was making snacks for my brother and the boys after school.

At twelve I was making dinner every night (except for Wednesdays and Saturdays when my brother and I stayed with mom and Isabelle), even though my dad insisted I didn’t have to.

At sixteen I catered the Dead Presidents’ Society Sixteenth Birthday Bash (JQ still says it was his birthday party because we threw it on Halloween and I’ve stopped arguing with him at this point).

And at eighteen (on February 9th at 10:08PM), under the influence of a little too much wine and the encouragement of Pia and Astrid—who were under the influence of a little too much wine and my fried mac-n-cheese balls—I started my blog.

It took awhile, but with consistent posting, a pretty and easily navigated layout, and solid recipes, soon enough (Artichoke) Hearts had become one of the most successful food blogs out there.

Which, as the youngest member of the Dead Presidents’ Society—and the only one who doesn’t play an instrument—gave me just a bit of leverage over those absolute eggheads.

“C’mon Ted, I’m starving,” FDR complained, the WiFi connection a little slow so his voice came through before his pout did.

“We’re starving,” I heard Grover call somewhere off screen.

“We’re starving,” FDR repeated. “C’mon sis, you can’t let us starve to death. You’d be the only Dead President remaining. You’d have to take over all of our jobs to keep the society alive.”

“You can’t play any instruments, it would be very difficult,” Grover added as he sat down on the couch next to my brother, both of them with well-practiced pouts on their faces. But I’d been a main recipient of those pouts from all three of them for the past 21 years so I was completely desensitized.

“I highly doubt that me catering your welcome home pre-show party in three weeks will help with your current starvation problem,” I told them.

“The human body can survive three weeks without food,” Grover pointed out.

“You make an excellent point. But you can still get literally anyone else to do it.” I hummed with a self-satisfied smile on my face. “Oh don’t give me that…” I scolded as the pouts deepened. “Based on Quinn’s most recent report, you boys haven’t done anything that would warrant me cooking for hours for you and your friends.”

Quinn was the Dead Presidents’ Society’s manager extraordinaire and, even though I wasn’t a member of the band, I was her favorite. It might’ve been because I was the first one she met or because I was the one who convinced the boys to pick her over the three other companies who wanted them, but it was probably because I was her secret weapon to get the boys to do whatever she wanted them to.

Or, more specifically, my food was.

“But you love cooking,” FDR whined.

“I cook for people not pigs,” I stated, getting confused frowns in response. I rolled my eyes and blew out a puff of air before continuing. “Your tour bus stinks, you haven’t done laundry for the past month and a half, and you haven’t been eating any of your vegetables,” I listed, recalling my chat with Quinn yesterday when she called to enlist my help in keeping the boys of The Dead Presidents’ Society alive.

“Not true,” FDR argued. “JQ and I had mashed potatoes with dinner last night.”

“Potatoes are nutritionally a starch not a vegetable,” I corrected him.

“Well…um…you’re a starch not a vegetable,” FDR said. It seemed that his time on the road really hadn’t taught him any new comebacks from when we were seven.

“Good one,” I deadpanned.

“How can I be clever when I’m starving to death?”

“If you’re really that desperate for food then go eat some carrots,” I told them both sternly. I might be the youngest of the group (and constantly reminded of it), but I’m really the only responsible one. “And an apple or two.”

“You’re no fun,” FDR pouted.

“Well how can I be when I have to take care of the three of you from LA?” I asked. “Speaking of, where’s the other one?”

I didn’t even know why I still asked about JQ on these Skype calls, it’s not like he’s been present for any of them. But I wasn’t able to completely stop caring about someone I’d known my entire life (unlike him), so I still had to ask.

“JQ’s working on a song down the hall—”

“No, Q was flirting with that bartender,” FDR corrected and I wasn’t surprised at all.

“Yeah, but you went to pee and he left her to go work on a song,” Grover told FDR then turned back to me. “He’s written like five just this week for the next album. I think we’re going to test a couple out at the welcome home show.”

“Another reason you should cater it,” FDR added.

“Not going to work,” I sang.

“You’re the wor—”

“Hey, can we meet early to work on a few new songs?” I knew it was JQ’s voice from the first word.

He might not’ve spoken to me in months, but I’d watched all of their interviews and listened to every song the band had released since last fall. Not to mention I’d heard his voice almost every day of my life growing up.

“Yeah we just have to finish up with Ted,” FDR replied. “Say hi to JQ, Teddy!”

“Hi to JQ, Teddy,” I mocked because actually saying hi to him like a normal adult was too much to ask.

“Hey Teddy,” he replied, but the camera was still facing FDR and Grover so I had no clue what JQ was doing. “I’m going to go tune my guitar.”

I guess he was leaving.

“I should tune mine too,” Grover added after the door clicked shut behind JQ and pushed himself up off the couch. He grinned broadly and waved at the camera. “Bye Teddy.”

“Bye Grover.” I waved back and watched as he disappeared off my screen.

I guess he was going too.

“I should get going anyway,” I said after I heard the door click shut on the other side. “Pia just got back and roped us all into helping her move in.”

“All six of you?” FDR asked.

“Rose isn’t back yet, but yeah pretty much. Pia’s got a lot of stuff you need more than one person to carry. Plus she bribed us with free Indian food.”

“How much do you want to bet the Kapoors just didn’t want to help Pia move in and the food was their idea?” FDR smirked.

“Oh one hundred percent,” I agreed and smiled at my brother. “Ajinder and Rajpreet Kapoor would never give out free food unless they got something out of it.”

“You on the other hand…” FDR trailed off and suddenly the pout was back.

“Look, if you all clean up your act for the last few weeks of tour and stop making Quinn think she’s wrangling pigs not managing a band, then yes,” I gave in and FDR’s pout was immediately replaced by a shit-eating grin. “But final word comes from Quinn!”

“Thanks Teds, we won’t let you down!”

“You better not, mister,” I narrowed my eyes. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Talk to you later,” He replied. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

FDR hung up with a final cheesy grin and wave, leaving me alone for approximately 30 seconds until the familiar sound of a door opening and two collars jingling signaled two dogs and a dad (mine, to be specific) had come back from their walk.

“You just missed FDR,” I told my dad as he rounded the corner and knelt down to let the dogs off their leashes. Fairbanks was a perfect gentleman (obviously) and patiently let Dad take off his leash before trotting over and sitting in front of the couch, next to my feet. Cactus Jack was too busy swinging around a large stick he found because, even though my brother hadn’t been here for months, his dog still behaved exactly like him.

“Eh, I talked to him yesterday,” my dad shrugged after he finally got Jack’s collar off.

“Glad to know you really care about your only son,” I snorted and Fairbanks thought it was a weird sneeze so he jumped up on my lap and put his nose in my face to investigate. Despite how much I loved him, I didn’t really want to french kiss my dog so I pushed him back down pretty quickly.

“John Nance Garner pooped four times today so I’d much rather spend the night with my lovely daughter and her even lovelier dog who only pooped once,” he said as he sat down on the other side of the couch. I could tell dad and CJ weren’t on speaking terms by my dad’s use of his full name. When Dad used his kids’ (or his kids’ dogs’) full names, you knew he was annoyed.

As if to prove a point, Cactus Jack jumped up on my dad’s lap and proceeded to chew his stick from his new perch.

“While I’m honored I’m the favorite, I’ll need to take a raincheck on daddy-daughter time tonight. Pia is moving her stuff into her and Astrid’s apartment today so we’re all going over to help.”

“She promised you all food, didn’t she?” he asked.

“Free food. From Tandor,” I answered.

“Well I can’t argue with that. I’d ditch you for the night if the Kapoors bribed me with food,” Dad stood up—causing Cactus Jack to flop to the floor, but he was too busy with his stick to look upset for more than a few seconds—and kissed me on the top of the head from behind the couch. “Have fun with everyone. Do you need me to watch the pups tonight?”

“I mean, I can bring them with me if you want, but it would probably be easier. I think I might sleep over at Pia’s tonight.”

“You planning a wild party?”

“I’m not, but I’d be surprised if Reese wasn’t,” I answered honestly.

“Well then make sure to take a shot for me and the dogs then,” he said. “But only one. I’d rather not hear about my daughter getting shwasted and running through campus.”

“Dad, I thought you knew me better than that. You’d never hear about it.”

***

“Astrid, you know you’re the one who actually lives here. You could, oh I don’t know, help,” Dom huffed after he and Cole put the couch down in Pia and Astrid’s new living room.

“I carried a box in before you got here,” Astrid said through a mouthful of Chana Masala.

“Well I’ve carried a couch, a table, and two boxes and I haven’t even gotten any food yet,” Dom threw back with his hands on his hips. His face was getting red and I was pretty sure it wasn’t because of carrying a couch in the L.A. heat.

“That’s not my fault,” Astrid shrugged and had another mouthful of food. Dominic’s face was getting redder and it definitely wasn’t because of the heat.

“Okay, why don’t we all take a break,” I interrupted the fight that was definitely about to happen and put down the box I’d carried up behind Cole and Dom.

“Reese is carrying up the last two chairs and there’s only two small boxes left that I can get later so let’s just call it a night,” Pia added in and put down her box next to the door before collapsing on the couch the boys just brought in. “Cole, bring me a tub of chicken korma, will you?”

“Yeah, want anything else?” Cole asked over his shoulder as he walked to the kitchen where the Kapoors had put all of the food they brought us before quickly making their escape.

“Rice and naan would be appreciated. Did my parents bring samosas? If they did I’ll have one of those too,” Pia replied.

“Coming right up.”

We all (excluding Pia who was examining her nails because she decided it was a good idea to get a manicure the day before she moved in to her apartment) watched over the counter top separating the kitchen and the living room as Cole carefully loaded everything Pia asked for onto a plate and what he wanted as well.  As Cole came around the counter with two plates of food, Astrid and Dom made a whip sound at the same time, but—after the numerous times at least one of us has done this to Cole over the past few years—they barely earned a glance from him. Out of our group of seven, Cole is definitely the push-over, but when it comes to Pia that trait is definitely pushed to the extreme.

Cole put his and Pia’s food down on the coffee table Astrid brought when she moved in a couple days ago and I went to the kitchen to get my own food just as Reese came up with the last two chairs.

“Are we taking a break?” He asked and sat down in one of the chairs.

“Nope we’re done,”Astrid replied, not even looking up from her tub of food.

“Well it must be because of how much you helped, Astrid,” Reese commented sarcastically as he stood up again and made his way over to me in the kitchen. “What a team player.”

“Slow your roll, my little theater nerd,” Astrid looked up and squinted at him, following his path across the room with her fork. “Dom already tried to pull that shit and I can’t fit both of you up my ass.”

“Don’t have a lot of faith in yourself then, do you?” Reese joked.

“Hardy-har-har,” Astrid deadpanned. “I’ll have you know—”

“I don’t want to know this,” Cole piped in because he’s both the pushover and the sweet, innocent cherub of the group. He just wants to study rocks and pine over Pia from afar.

“I’ll have you know,” Astrid repeated without sparing Cole a glance. “I have it on good authority that I have an excellent ass—a direct quote from one Jason Graham: ‘that was the best anal I’ve ever had.’”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to know that either,” I commented and scrunched up my nose in disgust as I came back into the room with my food and joined Cole and Pia on the couch.

“Too bad neither of us like your genitals,” Dom said. “Right, Reese?”

“Correct, Dominic.”

“An ass is an ass is an ass is an ass,” Astrid said dramatically.

“You know, I love you Astrid, but I don’t actually want to hear about your ass while I’m eating dinner,” Cole said and Pia snorted in response.

“Only while you’re eating dinner?” She laughed. “Maybe you should live with her instead of me.”

“No, I’m fine with boys plus Rose,” he replied.

“Speaking of boys plus Rose,” Reese interrupted and glanced between Dom and Cole. “Rose gets back tomorrow and the semester starts the next day and her reign of fun-sucking will begin so we have to have a party tonight.’’

“I don’t think Rose would appreciate knowing you called her a fun-sucker,” I pointed out.

“Teddy,” Reese looked over at me with his hand to his chest. “You know I love our dearest, sweet Rose, but do you know how many parties we could’ve had last year if she didn’t have to study?”

“It’s true,” Dom piped in. “There were at least six parties that should’ve been.”

“At least,” Reese repeated for emphasis. “We have to have one to make up for all of the lost parties last year. We owe it to ourselves—”

“To the UCLA students,” Cole interrupted.

“Dare I say, the entire world,” Reese finished and I knew they had rehearsed this speech. Cole may be a geo major, but Reese was theater enough for the two of them.

“Stop being so dramatic, Reese,” Astrid rolled her eyes. “It’s just a party.”

“Just a party,” Reese gasped dramatically. “We bought a banner, Astrid. A banner.”

“It says ‘Happy Retirement’ on it,” Cole added.

“Okay that’s cute—dumb, but cute,” I said. “I’m in.”

“I don’t know why y’all are making such a big deal. It’s not like any of us wouldn’t go,” Pia said. “You literally could’ve just said we’re having a party tonight. None of us are going to argue with that.”

“Fine,” Reese huffed. “We’re having a party tonight and you’re all coming.”

“See? Simple.” Pia shrugged. “Now let’s finish this food quickly and get alcohol because I refuse to take room temperature shots.”

***

Pia and I were splitting a handle of UV Blue and I felt like we were back in freshman year—which was exactly what Reese had intended.

Reese had decided that, in honor of our last first party of the school year, we should all drink the alcohol that defined our freshman year. I thought it was adorable and reminiscent until Reese said mine was definitely UV Blue because I drank it the night that I sucked Reese’s freshman year roommate’s dick then vomited off of their 4th story balcony.

Then it wasn’t cute anymore.

But then I had six shots and we started talking about how that was when Reese and I became friends and how our whole group followed shortly after, which meant my dick sucking and vomiting story was a key moment in the making of our friend group. And then it was cute again.

“You know, I’m so glad we did this,” I said, mid-group hug in the middle of Rose’s empty room. Since she couldn’t be here tonight we decided it was only right to pregame in her room.

“You doubted me, Theodore Roosevelt, but I’m always right. Y’know, I should’ve been president instead of you,” Reese replied and I knew he was getting drunk because he was breaking out the dead president jokes.

“Reese, you would be a terrible president,” Dom said. “Actually, I’m pretty sure we’d all be terrible.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Reese stepped back from our group hug to go grab another shot.

“Maybe you should slow down, babe,” Astrid said as she took the shot glass from him. “You took one like two seconds ago, maybe wait like five minutes?”

“Yeah, Niall and two of his friends are coming and they should be here soon. You could take it when they get here as a welcome to our home shot,” Dom added in, looking up from his phone.

I’d met Niall a few times through Dom because they’re both film majors and he was nice enough. He was Irish and I could barely understand him sober, let alone drunk, but everything that I could understand was always nice.

“That sounds good. I’m such a good host,” Reese said mostly to himself.

Despite his insistence that he’d wait until Niall & Co. got here—because that’s what a good host would do and he was ‘practically a ninteen-fucking-fifties housewife level host,’ Astrid kept his shot glass because Reese had a habit of sneaking shots. Which is funny when we laugh about it the next day, but not funny when you have to leave the person you’ve had your eyes on the whole night and are finally hooking up with to rub Reese’s back while he pukes. It’s a little ridiculous the number of times that’s happened to one of us.

“Which roommates?” Cole asked.

“Liam and Harry, I think?” Dom replied. “He was going to bring some girl he was seeing, but I don’t think she could make it.”

“Good. I don’t want any competition,” Reese said.

“There’s no competition, Reese,” Astrid said. “Niall’s straight.”

“So is spaghetti until it gets wet,” Reese replied easily and wiggled his eyebrows because he’s dumb.

“Who’s Harry?” I asked to change the subject.

I definitely knew Liam—a little too well because Pia doesn’t understand what TMI means—but I didn’t think I’d ever heard of Harry before.

“He lived with Niall in the fall last year while you were abroad and then went abroad when you came back in the spring so you probably haven’t met him,” Dom explained. “He’s cool though, you’ll like him.”

“You don’t have to suck his dick and vomit off the balcony again though, we’re all already friends,” Reese said because he’s probably the biggest shit I know. “Also I don’t think our landlord would appreciate someone vomiting off the balcony.”

“Gee thanks for the advice,” I deadpanned. “I’ll try but there’s no promises.”

“That’s all I ask,” Reese shrugged with a smirk on his face.

“They’re downstairs, I’m going to buzz them in,” Dom said, looking up from his phone again.

“Astrid!” Reese called even though she was only a few feet away. “Make the welcome shots. I’ve got to be ready to serve my guests.”

“You’re an idiot, you know that, right?” Astrid asked.

“You’re just jealous that I’m a better host then you,” Reese replied.

“It’s not even my house, Reese,” she said. “I’m not the host.”

“You’re both dumb to me,” Pia said and sipped a glass of wine because apparently she’d given up on our bottle of UV and gotten wine at some point. But I was six shots in so those details were lost on me.

“Hey! What did I do? I’m your roommate, you’re supposed to be nice to me!” Astrid complained.

“And I’m your favorite, you should be even nicer to me,” Reese added in.

“Her favorite?” Astrid turned to look at Reese. “That’s such a lie—I’m her favorite over you.”

“This is why I think you’re both dumb,” Pia said. “And I’m blatantly my own favorite.”

“Honey, we’re ho-ome,” a familiar Irish voice called, announcing Niall & Co.’s arrival and putting an end to Astrid and Reese’s bickering—at least for a little while.

“My guests!” Reese exclaimed excitedly as they appeared in Rose’s doorway. “Come take a shot with me!”

“What do you have?” Liam asked.

“Not even going to say hi then, Liam? Really?” Pia asked.

“Sorry P,” Liam laughed and hugged her. “How’re you then?”

“Good,” she shrugged and pushed him away playfully. “That’s all I needed. Now go get your alcohol.”

As soon as Liam replied with a flirty laugh and some dumb response, I found myself tuning out. I absolutely love Pia, but listening to her flirt with anyone—which meant flirting with them and anyone else with a dick so they knew they’d have to work for it—didn’t interest me in the slightest. Especially knowing that I’d have to spend at least an hour in a post-hookup debriefing with Pia tomorrow and then another hour listening to Cole complain about Pia hooking up with someone while pretending it’s not just because he’s completely in love with her.      

“Hi,” an unfamiliar voice said and suddenly some boy I’d never seen before was standing in front of me. “I’m Harry, I don’t think we’ve met.”

“I don’t think we have. I’m Teddy,” I replied and shook his outstretched hand.

I took a second to look him over quickly without being too obvious—even though I probably was because there’s no discreet way to check someone out when they’re right in front of you. But he smirked and looked me over a second later so I assumed it was cool that I did it. And I’m glad I did because he was much more attractive than any of the guys I’d been around this summer. His jeans were a bit tight and would probably be a pain to take off—okay, slow down there, Teddy.

“We definitely haven’t met. I would’ve remembered you,” he said and the amount of vodka I’d had really hadn’t prepared me for this.

“Madame President,” Reese called. “Stop distracting my guests. I’m trying to welcome them into my home.”

“Madame President?” Harry quirked an eyebrow at me.

“It’s a long story,” I replied.

“Well then, I guess I’ll have to find you later so you can tell it to me,” Harry smirked and, even though I’d spent most of my time with my dad and dogs (and sub-par men, but they really aren’t important at this moment in time) this summer, I knew he was definitely flirting with me.

At least I’m pretty sure he was.

“I guess you will,” I smirked back in what could be a flirtatious manner, but could’ve also looked really fucking weird.

“Harry, stop flirting and come drink with me.”

So I guess he was flirting.

***

“Wait so you and your brother and two of your friends were all named after ex-presidents?” Harry asked and took the joint we’d been passing between the two of us for the last few minutes.

He’d found me in the kitchen stealing Reese’s Hot Cheetos from the cabinet about ten minutes ago and wasted no time reminding me that I still had a story to tell him. In the two hours since he’d gotten here, pretty much every other senior that I knew (and a lot of whom I didn’t know) had crammed into Rose and the boys’ apartment, making it a lot hotter and louder than before. Which prompted me to suggest we go outside. Which then prompted Harry to take the joint out of his pocket so we could smoke it while I told him my entire life story.

Or at least the interesting part—which revolved around being named after a dead president.

“Yep,” I nodded. “Pregnant women are weird and very hormonal.”

“I just don’t understand how three women, all with the same last names as ex-presidents, ended up in the same prenatal yoga class.”

“Divine intervention,” I deadpanned.

“You think?” Harry asked in awe and I wasn’t sure if he was an idiot or just high. “Like you were chosen or something?”

“What the fuck?” I laughed. “Chosen?”

“Wow, I’m definitely higher than I thought I was,” he giggled.

“I think I’ll have to agree with you there,” I nodded. “Pass me the joint.”

He held out the joint for me and I took it from him, our hands brushing as I grabbed it.

“Y’know,” he said, looking up from our hands to see me taking a drag. “If this was a RomCom that would’ve been a pretty big moment there.”

“What?” I laughed.

“We had an adorable bonding moment of you telling me the origin of your name. Then I said something dumb, but hopelessly endearing,” he lifted one side of his mouth when he said that and he probably thought he was being cute. He was right. “Which made us both laugh. And then our fingers brushed,” he explained.

“Well then,” I said and took a second drag because I didn’t know what else to do.

“But if this was a proper RomCom—I assume we’re going for genre accuracy, correct?”

“I’d be upset if we weren’t,” I confirmed.

“Then this would be the part where I take your hand,” he took my hand. “And—”

“Have either of you seen Pia?” Cole asked and leaned his body out the doorway, holding it with one hand.

“Not for awhile,” I frowned. “She’s probably around here somewhere. Have you checked Reese’s room? He always makes at least one of us shit talk with him at some point.”

“Yeah he’s got Astrid with him, but no Pia,” Cole said because he’d probably spent the last twenty minutes wandering around the party looking for her.

“She might be with Liam,” Harry interjected and looked at me. “I was with him when he was getting them both drinks when I saw you.”

“Cool,” Cole replied shortly and turned around to leave. I could tell he didn’t think it was cool at all, but he was the idiot who refused to tell her how he felt so I didn’t feel anything sympathy. “I’ll see if I can find them.”

“Oh wait,” Harry said, looking down at his phone, and Cole paused. “Liam texted me like 5 minutes ago. He left with Pia and just wanted Ni and I to know so we wouldn’t look for him.”

“Oh,” Cole said. “That was thoughtful of him. I’ll see you two later.”

Cole turned around and left, closing the door behind him.

“I should go check on him,” I said because even though I said I had no sympathy for Cole, I definitely did. Because I knew first hand how much finding out the person you like just left to hook up with someone else sucks. “He…um…he…”

“Likes Pia?” Harry finished for me. “It’s pretty obvious—does Pia know?”

“No, she’s pretty much the only one who doesn’t,” I said. “Which means moments like this aren’t too uncommon.”

“You’re a good friend,” Harry said. “And I admire that—even if it’s stealing you away from me.”

“You’re a shameless flirt, you know that right?” I commented because the alcohol and the weed (and the compliments) were making me a lot more confident.

“What’s the shame in flirting?” He threw back with a smile and I laughed before turning around to leave.

“Oh, Teddy?” He said and I turned around. He kept eye contact with me and took my hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of it. He pulled back and smiled in a way that momentarily made me rethink leaving to go talk to Cole. “Couldn’t let you leave without finishing our RomCom moment. What a cliffhanger that would be?”