#Kayak Equipment | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

Text

CAMP UPSIDE DOWN PART TWO Steve Harrington x fem!reader [33K] summer camp, broken kayaks, too much tension and that boy you hate. an enemies to lovers camp counsellor story.

I can’t stop, the way I feel.

Camp Upside Down was about eighty miles outside of Hawkins, Indiana, just past Belmont and hidden amongst the trees of the YellowWood State Forest.

It held too many kids, a collection of old wooden cabins, a few impressively sized lakes, sports equipment that was made in the sixties and Steve fucking Harrington.

It’s not like you had always hated the boy, you just couldn’t really remember the last time you liked him.

The first of June brought blue skies, summer rolling in with thick white clouds, the kind that didn’t look real. The Indiana air was warm and hazy, growing hotter in the afternoon, long days, bright nights and the return of fireflies and open air pools.

Each year you left Hawkins behind, a kiss pressed to each cheek by your parents, your old car packed to the brim as you headed west for six weeks, to your home from home, buried between cedar trees, amongst giant redwoods and overgrown wildflowers.

You rolled out of town and took the sun with you, windows down, radio blasting music and static, that soft buzz that you loved so much. You sped past the water tower, the quarry and the wheat fields, the strawberry patches and the forest that no one liked to wander too far into.

You hated that Steve Harrington followed, his car newer, shiner, faster. You hated when he overtook you on the straight, before you had even had a chance to leave town. So you would hang your arm out the window, middle finger poised in a pretty salute just for him and he’d send you one back, like clockwork, like you’d practised it, like it happened every year.

If you could get close enough, your car bumper threatening his, you could just make out the scowl behind his raybans, the twist of his lips cursing you out in the reflection of his rear view mirror.

It went on like that for the whole drive, never stopping unless the boy did, refusing to fall behind, because bathroom breaks were for losers and you did not fucking lose to Steve Harrington.

It was flat out, foot down, wind whipping in on the highway; a game of cat and mouse, curses yelled over the radio, hair messy in your face, just pushing the speed limit until overhead signs and four lane roads turned into something else.

It’s like the sun got softer when you turned off the freeway, the light hazy between the trees and it made this part of the world seem like it was just for you.

Single track roads took you through the forest, past rivers and lakes, mountains in front of you, Hawkins behind you and the air was sharper, muddled with pine and moss, still wet tree trunks from the morning rain, wildflowers and something too sweet to name.

Smoke threaded through it all when you got closer to camp, the big wooden archway greeting you like an old friend, the cabins appearing through cracks in the forest, the doors open, staff carrying in pillows and sheets, prepping for the arrival of the kids in a few days time.

And when you pulled your car into the staff parking, a clearing between trees behind the big gymnasium, you turned off your engine, closed your eyes and listened to the little slice of peace you’d get in your six week stay.

No kids, no screaming, no arguing, no singing. Not yet.

Just bird calls and the buzz of insects, soft wind between branches and the slow crackle of the main campfire if you strained your ears hard enough.

“Your shitty car gets slower every year, princess.”

You swore, low under your breath, the soft “for fuck sake,” mixing with a sigh as you let your head fall onto the seat and you opened your eyes.

Steve was standing at your open window, hip leaning against the side of your car, arms crossed, expression smug. He grinned at you.

“Harrington,” you greeted, a drawl that lacked any sort of warmth, tinted with annoyance instead.

The boy tsked, sarcasm dripping from him as he leaned in, arms on the window ledge, peering into the car and peering at the pile of cassettes on your passenger seat.

“Blondie? Really?”

You swatted at him, brows knitted together already because you’d been at Camp Upside Down for quite literally three minutes and the boy was already doing his best to infuriate you.

“That’s not very nice,” he told you but he was still grinning. “You didn’t miss me?”

You pushed the car door open, knocking Steve out of the way in the process and you scowled as you popped the trunk, turning to him with a glare.

“Miss you? I saw you at the store two days ago.”

Steve watched you haul out your bags, snorting when you let them fall to the forest floor without much care.

“Yeah, but you called me a dickhead and hit me with your cart.”

“You yelled across the store and asked me where my cauldron was.”

You set the boy with a stare, a little dead behind the eyes, just like you’d perfected. Your lip twitched into an almost smile when you let another bag tumble out of the trunk, narrowingly missing the boy's foot when he flinched out of the way.

Steve shrugged, tongue pressed to his cheek to stop his grin as he stared at you right back.

“It was a valid question.”

You slammed the trunk, your gaze on the boy withering and you kicked at one of your bags. You hated this part.

“Are you gonna help me with these?” You really didn’t know why you were bothering to ask, because the boy was already backing away, hands shoved into the pockets of his Levi’s and he was still fucking grinning.

“Why would I do that?” He questioned. “Besides, I only came round to tell you Hopper wants everyone in the office. Now.”

You glared at Steve, seething, lips parting with a high pitched scoff as you threw an arm out and gestured to all your belongings, most of your life packed into four too big duffel bags.

“You fucking just watched me unload the car.”

Steve hummed happily, too far away for you to throw a pine cone at. He tutted, all faux concern and sad brown eyes.

“Damn, I did, didn’t I?” And then he was walking away, heading to the offices that were housed in the row of cabins by the lake. “Don’t be too late, princess, Hops already in a shitty mood.”

——————

Camp leader Jim Hopper, was indeed in a foul mood when you arrived twenty minutes later, out of breath and just as annoyed as he was.

The cabin was full, bodies squeezed between desks and the moth-eaten couch was piled with people. Faces new and old stared back at your sudden entrance, the scowl that was already on your face only deepening when Steve, who was leaning lazy against a wall, wiggled his fingers at you.

“Hawkins,” Hopper barked, “how nice of you to finally join us. You think after doing this for four years, you’d know that the first day meeting is always at eleven o’clock sharp.”

Hopper's habit of calling people by their hometown should’ve been insulting, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was a teddy bear looking man, moustache twitching when he was either annoyed or amused, but he had soft eyes and an even softer patch for the camp kids.

When you first pointed out that there were three counsellors that came from Hawkins, he merely started calling you Hawkins number two, so you tended to not remind him after that.

“Sorry,” you huffed, not sounding all that sorry, and you glared at Steve as you squished yourself between Eddie Munson and Robin Buckley.

“Okay, shitheads, listen up,” Murray, Hopper’s right hand man, stood with a clipboard, thick rimmed glasses slipping down his nose. “Roll call.”

“Muson, music. You’ve got three new kids that have signed up for private guitar lessons, you’ll get their info by tonight, make sure you check in with Joyce at reception.”

Eddie Munson, one of the older boys nodded, long, dark curls already frizzy with the warmth that the forest trapped beneath its canopy. Originally from Philadelphia, the boy was still dressed in his leather jacket, a denim vest that had ripped sleeves and a giant Dio patch sewn messily onto the back, ready for a metal concert rather than s’mores around the campfire.

“And for the love of god, wear the proper uniform this year.”

On cue, Hopper started throwing out the mandatory shirts, white and years old, the sleeve cuffs red, just like the printed ‘staff’ on the back, in bold, capital letters.

“Nancy, you’re moving up this year, senior counsellor,” Nancy Wheeler, another Hawkins native, nodded sharply, her hair clipped back and uniform already on. “We’re gonna need the first week's schedule done for the kids arriving at the weekend and christ, make sure these idiots turn up for their shifts.”

Robin snorted from beside you and Murray rounded on her, a finger pointing accusingly. “Buckley, any more missed shifts from you this year and you’ll be on clean up duty for every dinner shift. Bob wants you in the mess hall tomorrow for lunch prep.”

The girl scowled, mumbling under her breath about how it wasn’t her fault she never heard the morning tannoy. A pretty girl from Detroit, Robin was all ripped jeans and backwards caps, sarcastic comments and sleeping wherever she could make herself comfortable.

Hopper threw a shirt at her, grinning when it landed against her face with a soft thump.

“Jonathan.” The boy who was busy fiddling with the camera around his neck suddenly looked up, eyes wide as if he’d been caught half asleep. “The parents are more than happy to buy more of the photo packages this year and we need new prints for the newsletters so we want content, content, content. No slacking and distracting your girlfriend or you’ll be sleeping on the other side of the lake.”

Jonathan Byers, from Bloomington, just a few hours from Hawkins, mumbled an agreement before walking over to sit by Nancy and resting his head on top of hers.

“Hargrove,” Hopper barked from behind his desk, “you’re back on sports but we’re a lifeguard down this year so you’ll be splitting shifts with Harrington.”

Billy Hargrove, California bad boy, was sliding an unlit cigarette between his lips, getting the tip slick as he grunted his agreement. He caught his staff shirt as it flew through the air at him, winking at you when he tucked it into the waistband of his too tight jeans.

“And for fuck sake, Billy, no non staff members in the cabins after six,” Hopper groaned, “I’m not having screaming mothers at my door at one in the morning this year, corrupt the girls of Indiana on your own time, not mine.”

“You two,” Murray finally rounded on you and Steve, a sardonic grin pulling at his lips. “Lovebirds, you’re both on games and swimming.”

Steve and you both huffed out a protest at the term, features pulled into a scowl and you flipped off both Robin and Eddie when they chuckled.

“And Jesus Christ, if any more of your lovers' tiffs result in more broken equipment, it’s coming out of your wages.”

You scoffed, a sound of protest as Steve swore. “Bullshit, what broken equipment?”

The rest of the team snickered as Hopper levelled you with a stare from over the top of the computer screen. Murray snorted from behind his fist and even Steve had to try to hide his grin at your words.

“There’s three cracked kayaks, fourteen broken tennis racquets and a box of punctured basketballs sitting behind the gym as we speak, sweetheart, don’t even go there.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed yourself off of the couch, grabbing Robin’s hand and yanking her up with you when she batted at your arm.

Everyone else shuffled to their feet, leaving the few newbies in the corner, wide eyed and worried as they waited for their orientation.

Hopper glared at the seven of you as you lined up at the door, restless and waiting to escape to your cabins, to steal some food from the kitchens when Bob wasn’t looking.

“No drugs,” Hopper announced before Eddie could open the door. “No smoking, and for god sake Munson, don’t tell the kids that you can eat the mushrooms, not again.”

Eddie had the audacity to look bewildered, brown eyes big and doe like as you held in a snicker from behind him. He swatted at your leg and you thumped him back, grinning when the back of your hand caught the edge of his rolling tin in his front pocket.

The older man moved onto Billy, glaring when the boy only smirked, sliding a pair of gold rimmed aviators over his eyes.

“Nudity is for the showers and your own cabin, California, I don’t wanna see your ass comin’ out of the lake, I don’t care how early it is in the morning.”

Billy simply grinned wider, snickering when Nancy blushed, rolling his eyes when Robin dug her fingers into his ribs.

“And you two,” Hopper lifted a hand, gesturing between you and Steve once more, “if I gotta break up any more fights, or play couples therapist, you’ll be paying for my own before summer is over, you hear me?”

The pair of you sulked, eyes lowered to the floor and feet shuffling as you weighed up your options of arguing back, but the office room was lacking its usual cloud of cigar smoke and the coffee machine in the corner had a piece of paper with a big ‘out of order’ scrawled on front.

“Loud and clear, chief,” Steve smirked, eyeing you from where he stood, Eddie grinning between you both.

Murray opened the door to the forest and the sun, the wall of heat seeping in and fighting with the old aircon unit and Hopper’s last words to you all before you slipped out were:

“Play nice and don’t kill the kids.”

Billy caught Steve by the shirt as they left, the boy’s watching as the rest of you walked down the gravel path that led through the trees, splintering off from cabin to cabin.

The blonde boy turned, grinning sharklike, sunglasses still on. He nodded to your retreating frame, taking a second to watch the way your shorts rode up the backs of your thighs as you climbed the cabin stairs behind Robin.

“You tapped that yet, Harrington?”

Steve glowered, ripping away his arm from the other boy but his reaction only made Billy smirk wider, a lighter appearing from his pocket as he lit his cigarette.

“Get fucked, Hargrove,” Steve did his best to sound bored, like he didn’t care.

But it only made Billy laugh, blowing smoke to the blue skies and he followed Steve down the opposite trail, heading towards the same cabin that Eddie was currently dragging a small amp into.

Steve huffed when the blonde boy stomped up the stairs behind him, stepping over the forgotten bags that lay unpacked on the floor. “Maybe that’s Hawkins' problem, you know?” He asked, referring to you. Billy eyed Steve, leaning against his top bunk, the air in the wooden cabin so much cooler than outside. “Maybe she just needs a good seeing to.”

Eddie raised his brows, looking carefully between his bunkmate and Billy, wondering if there was about to be a new record for how quickly a fight broke out. The current sat at seventeen hours after arrival, but there had been a lot more vodka involved that time, and maybe a comment or two about that one time Billy got the clap from some girl in the next town over.

“Now now, boys,” Eddie intoned, “I’ve not nearly had enough sleep to deal with this shit.”

He went ignored.

Billy continued, teeth sharp and white and bared as he followed Steve around the bunks, leaning against the dresser before the boy had a chance to open it and his eyes flashed when he watched the muscle in the brunette’s jaw twitch.

“Think she’d let me?” Hargrove asked, “think she’d get a little wild for me?” “Don’t you have shit to do?” Steve snapped, refusing to look at Billy, ‘cause he could feel the tips of his ears getting hot, a horribly uncomfortable tightness clawing at his throat.

But Billy could see right through him, years of spending summers together, watching the way you and Steve argued, nose to nose and chests panting. He always made sure he had a front seat to the show and poking the angry bear only made the inevitable first argument so much more fun to witness.

Billy clicked his tongue, still grinning unbearably wide. “Maybe I can go visit Hawkins… I’m sure there’s something heavy that your girl needs help with.”

“She’s not my fucking girl.”

The blonde winked at Eddie as he passed, the longer haired boy doing nothing to hide his smile, knowing fine well what game Hargrove was playing. And shit, he was winning, ‘cause by the time Billy left and Steve spun back around, his fists were clenched and a heavy scowl pulled his brows together.

“You’re too easy, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve muttered, but there wasn’t much heat behind it. He liked Eddie, and god, he knew he was right.

——————

“You know, every summer I expect you and Harrington to walk into camp, hand in hand, talkin’ all sweet to each other,” Robin wasn’t looking at you as she spoke, too busy stuffing already crumpled shirts into the shared dresser, but you knew she was grinning. “The sexual tension has to break sometime, you know?”

“Over my dead, fucking body.”

Your reply was one she’d heard before, year after year, summer after summer, because every June, the same thing happened. Fall outs, arguments, screaming matches in the mess hall, head to head battles on the dock, late night yelling over a campfire and a bottle of cheap bourbon.

“I still don’t get it,” the girl smirked, finally eyeing you from over the top bunk. The late morning light made the small cabin glow, the surface of the lake reflecting in through the open window and off of the panelled walls. “Steve isn’t that bad.”

“That’s because you didn’t have to go through high school with the King himself,” you deadpanned, already bored of the conversation. You’d had it before, several times over with almost all the camp staff, each one wondering why you and Steve fucking Harrington wanted to kill each other over a game of dodgeball, the last poptart at breakfast, picking teams on games night. “Harrington got everything I worked hard for, just ‘cause his daddy has some money.”

You threw your now empty duffle bag to the ground kicking at it until it slid underneath the bed. Your own pillow was in its rightful place on top, the peach coloured case clashing horribly with the army green duvet, but it smelled like home.

“I announced I was running for class president in sophomore year, and then that asshole decided he would to,” you levelled Robin with a stare, still petulant after so many years. “He threw a party at his stupid rich house and by Monday, everyone was talking about Steve Harrington’s pool and how they were voting for him.”

“Don’t you think it’s unhealthy to hold onto such a grudge-”

You cut the girl off, on a tangent now she’d brought the sore subject up. “Like, wasn’t it enough that he was the swim team captain? And then! When we got into that stupid fight in Junior year, we both ended up with a weeks detention but no, no. Mr Harrington swoops in with a little two grand donation to the school’s library upgrade and low and behold, little Stevie is suddenly off the hook.”

You kicked another bag, this one not as empty and you tried not to wince when your toe made contact with what you assumed was a collection of books.

“As long as his record is squeaky clean, right? S’not like his dad won’t just pay his way into fucking Yale, or Princeton, for him anyway,” you were grumbling now and when you looked up to see Billy Hargrove walking by with a too smug smile, you flipped him off, trying to make yourself feel better.

He just wiggled his fingers at you in a wave, winking when you grimaced.

“I think I need a drink,” you said, throwing yourself down onto the bed and concluding your Steve Harrington rant, more than likely only the first of the day.

The sheets smelled the same, like they always did. A little musty, like the back of a storage cupboard, almost hidden by the laundry detergent you knew Joyce made Hopper use. Fresh like pine needles, like the forest floor and mountain air. Kinda like another home.

Robin barked out a laugh before coming over and standing between the space between your knees, your legs splayed over the too narrow mattress. She offered you a hand, exaggerating a loud groan when you took it and she pulled you back up to sit. An affectionate pat fell on your head before she looked around the mess of your half unpacked cabin, sheets and folded towels on the dressers, drawers open and half full, a litter of shoes by the door and an unplugged radio on a chair.

“You know what?” She huffed out, “we both need a drink.”

——————

The keg party by the lake was a first night tradition, the older staff members long gone to their beds after a tiring first day in the forest heat, lugging around equipment and furniture.

The rest of you gathered at the dock, crowding the small part of the water front that had sand instead of rocks, the air still warm from the leftover sun despite the stars in the sky. It was inky black in the middle of the woods, the clouds navy, the lake a mirror and the fire gave off an impressive amber glow.

Everyone was painted in orange light, pink and red on their cheeks, smoke in their hair and a different kind of fire in their chests when Billy produced a few bottles of cheap whisky, a half bottle of bourbon and surprising everyone, Nancy had added a bottle of vodka to the pile. Cheap beer came in the form of lukewarm kegs and despite the effort it took, Jonathan pulled the short straw and drove out of camp, meeting the delivery boy on the main road to pick up a pile of hot pizza boxes.

It smelled like summer, smoke and god awful decisions.

The dirty beat of Need You Tonight by INXS started through the tannoys above you, the old, tinny speakers hidden in the trees.

Some people cheered, others moved to the sand to dance, a slow grind of bodies with their bare feet in the lake, water lapping at ankles as they moved. Steve was grinning from the dock, a rip in the one knee of his jeans, the skin underneath already tanned as if he belonged under the sun. The white t-shirt he wore was threadbare, years old with ‘camp upside down’ faded in green on the chest.

He was watching you, a feeling that used to make you unravel, like you knew he did it just to earn a rise from you. So you waved instead, sugary sweet and full of sarcasm, huffing when he beckoned you closer with a hand that was holding the last of the bourbon, and you told yourself it was the promise of alcohol that made your feet move.

You rolled your eyes before narrowing them at the boy in front of you, your red cup clutched to your chest and you couldn’t help but take another step forward, just a small one, until the toes of your shoes were touching his.

He looked down at the wooden boards, the water lapping underneath, barely seen between the cracks in the dark, but the boy was too focused on the way your converse bumped his nikes. It felt like a challenge, like everything with you did and when he looked back up, your chin was tilted high and your eyes were glittering.

You looked like trouble and he hated it.

“Is this another one of your shitty mixtapes, Harrington?” You let the words drip from your lips, whisky mixing with distaste and the late night air.

Everything was warm and sweet, bourbon and peaches, campfire smoke and leftover lake water on your skin. Steve looked at you, eyes shining, freckles on his nose like stars and he grinned.

“How’d you know, princess?” He took the cigarette that had been tucked behind his ear, slid it between his lips as he kept your gaze, always undefeated in the staring contests you both never meant to start.

“‘Cause it sounds like something a boy would make when he’s trying too hard to get a chick in his bed.”

He lit the cigarette, still grinning, the end of it caught between teeth and Steve Harrington looked so unbelievably ready to play one of your little games with you. The ash burned red in the dim light, the sounds of your friends and co-workers dull behind you both.

“Does that mean it’s working?”

“You fucking wish, wonder boy,” you scoffed and you made a grab for the bottle he was holding, twisting your lips to hold in the annoyance when Steve moved it out of reach, holding the amber liquid above your head.

“So mean already,,” Steve tutted and you hated the familiar warmth that wrapped around his words, like it was supposed to be a compliment. “Don’t you usually wait for day three before breaking out that one?”

“Give it,” you demanded, and from over Steve’s shoulder you could see Eddie and Jonathan watching, expectant smiles on their faces and interest in their eyes.

“Make me, princess,” Steve answered, voice just as short as yours but he sounded too amused, like he always did when he was trying to push your buttons. The boy was too tall, his hand and the bottle well above your head, leaking into the night sky above and you weren’t going to humiliate yourself by trying to jump for it.

So you drained what was left in your cup, the vodka was too cheap and it burned your tongue but the mix of cherry kool aid made up for it, staining your tongue red. You swiped at your lips, grinned and planted your hands on Steve’s chest much to his surprise.

But just as his mouth fell into a pretty ‘o’ shape, his brown eyes darkened to that dark honey shade you were used to, you pushed, hard. He hit the water with a splash and to the raucous sound of whoops and cheers, a wolf whistle when he emerged, white top soaked and clinging to the ridges and dips of his muscles, tangled at his waist.

He spluttered, waist deep in the lake as he stared back up at you, hair dripping into his eyes and oh, he was mad. You were fucking joyous, wrapped up in the way people were laughing and you didn’t break eye contact with the boy as you bent at the waist and picked up the bottle that’d dropped as he fell.

You pulled off the lid, grinned and brought it to your lips, draining the rest of the smoky drink, another burn that nipped at your throat, your chest, your skin. You felt too warm when you chased a stray drip of it with your thumb, sliding over your lip before sucking it back between your lips.

“Made you,” you told Steve.

The things you do, don’t seem real.

The kids arrived in a wave of colours and chaos, bags forgotten on buses, new cabins already turned inside out and Joyce had a queue as long as the lake outside of her office, her hands full of allergy medication, inhalers and requests to change bunks ‘cause ‘Kyle Jamison snores like a seventy year old with a lung condition.’

The camp itself was just as messy, it always had been. The old cabins littered the space, winding dirt tracks leading you into a cluster of trees, surrounding the old wooden huts, the porch light almost always flickering in the dark.

There was faded bunting hanging from branch to branch, the old gym that sat with its rusting tin roof near the back, the dock with its splintering planks by the lake. The grassy hub at the centre was worn down by constant running and makeshift picnics and the wildflowers that free in between it all were getting too tall, bursts of red, yellow and orange between green moss.

It was getting old, things were a little broken but the entire forest smelled like morning dew, that ‘it’s just rained’ kinda way and old campfire smoke. It was another home.

Camp Upside Down was officially in full swing.

You were pleased to see you had some of your returning favourites in your group that year: Will Byers, Lucas Sinclair, Suzie Bingham and Dustin Henderson.

You were just going through the last of the names on your list, kids gathered in front of you and awaiting their assigned cabins when Steve snatched the clipboard from your hand, huffing.

“Harrington!”

“What the hell is this?” Steve grumbled, looking at the sheet of paper and at your group. He singled out Dustin, and the boy flushed, all nervous grin and bright eyes underneath his curls. “Henderson, I thought you said you were requesting my group this year?”

The young boy shrugged, glancing at the trees instead of Steve.

“I, uh, I said I was happy with either of you,” Dustin grinned, front teeth coming in more than they were last year and you beamed back. “Besides, Hawkins sneaks us extra cookies before bed.”

You shot the boy a look.

“Hey! I told you not to tell anyone about that,” you admonished, eyes rolling. “And that’s not my name, Dustin, we spoke about this last year.”

But before Dustin could argue back, Steve was pulling you aside, his hands shockingly warm as they wrapped around your wrist. You stumbled into the tree line with him, shoes sinking into moss, senses surrounded by cedar and cicadas and Steve.

“What the fuck? Steve!” You hissed, pulling yourself from his grasp with a scowl.

Before either if you could say anything,Lucas Sinclair, a tall, dark haired kid tapped a passing new counsellor on the arm. They looked concerned when the boy pointed to you both, hidden in the trees.

“Mom and Dad are fighting again,” he told them, voice bored and lacking any real worry.

“You’re stealing my kids, princess!” Steve’s voice was just as annoyed as yours, his brow furrowed as he stabbed a finger at your sheet of names.

“Stealing?” You scoffed, whacking your clipboard against his own. The metal clip narrowly missed his fingers and he swore at you hotly. “Stealing? They’re children, Harrington, not collectibles.”

The kids in question were giggling where you’d left them, your group mixing with Steve’s as they stared in that unabashed way only preteens could. You flushed when you heard one of them - Nancy’s brother, Mike, you were sure - made wet, kissing noises. Immature and highly ironic, you noted, considering he was standing hand in hand with a girl called El.

You glared at them all and they quietened, but only just.

Spinning back round to deal with your other problem, you pointed a finger to Steve’s chest, hating the way he smirked at your sudden frustration.

“And what’s your point anyway, huh?” You huffed, “you have Maxine this year, I always have Max in my group!”

Steve looked entirely too smug as he bent a little at waist, crowding down into you so you were both toe to toe.

You hated it.

You hated his brown eyes, the way they caught the sun. You hated the smattering of freckles he got every summer, the moles on his neck, the ones you knew dotted the rest of his skin. You hated his hair, how it fell into his eyes when he got mad at you, how he was too focused on you to push it back.

“Maybe Max just likes me better.”

You gasped, entirely offended at his accusation and before you could hurl something sharp and quick back at him, the girl in question raised her hand from the middle of the crowd, face scrunched in uncertainty.

“Hi, uh, yeah” You both turned to look at the redhead. “Yeah, no, that’s absolutely not true.”

You rounded back on the boy, a shit eating grin on your face as you raised your brows, your expression victorious.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, almost nose to nose now and you could smell the spearmint gum he’d chewed, the clean smell of his cologne, whatever body wash he’d used that morning. “Good luck keeping mini Byers alive.”

“Hey!” Will piped up, louder than he’d been last summer and he was scowling at Steve. “I only have three inhalers now.”

Steve rolled his eyes, finally moving out of your space and rounding up his kids like some sort of rogue cowboy, sans horse. He waved the boy away, sounding somewhat placating when he congratulated him.

“That’s great, Will, honestly buddy,” Steve offered a fist bump, one that the smaller boy happily accepted. “Just don’t let Hawkins here let you forget them yeah?”

Steve turned back to you once more, still smug, still infuriating. “We wouldn’t want her to get in trouble now, would we?”

——————

“Camp has been in session for five minutes.”

Murray was standing in front of you, hands open in a gesture that screamed ‘for the love of god, explain yourselves.’ Hopper was sitting at his desk, eyes closed, fingers running circles at his temples and he sighed heavily.

Neither you nor Steve spoke, eyes trained on the old, worn floorboards, converse shuffling, shoulders shrugging, lips twisted to hide your matching smirks.

“Does someone want to explain what happened this time? Because we can’t keep throwing kayaks in the trash like they’re broken cups, people! They're not cheap!”

“Well, you see, Steve has this real annoying habit of-”

“- just because the princess feels then need to win at everything-”

“I need to win at everything?! Me?! Are you fu-”

“Yes you! Always breathin’ down my back, waitin’ for me to fuck up so you can-”

“Enough!“ Hopper jumped up from his chair, hands slamming on his desk as he hunched over it, shoulders heaving, face too red. “Who. Broke. The Kayak?”

You and Steve sighed, shoulder slumped, heads tilted to the ceiling as if you could avoid the question, each other, the inevitable punishment that was coming your way. You sighed, Steve groaned and you both swore.

Because, honestly? You weren’t sure who’s fault it was. Maybe yours, probably Harrington's. More than likely both. ‘Cause the kids had stumbled out of the lake, giddy and a little sunburnt, leaving you to haul the kayaks onto the shore on your own.

Steve had only watched you for a few minutes, smirk on his face as you struggled with the faded red boats, huffing as you attempted to lift them onto the racks, feet clumsy and damp hair sticking to your forehead, your cheeks.

In fact, he looked entirely too amused as he leaned against the dock and by the time he’d come over, offering a rare display of help, you stubbornly told him to ‘fuck off.’

He’d laughed at that, angering you more and you squeaked as he stretched out behind you, his chest still bare from helping his group in the water, and the solid warmth of it brushed against your back when his hands moved to help yours.

He jumped when you did, hands stuttering over your own, over the kayak and you had to push yourself up onto your toes when the boat slipped from the railing. You both caught it in time, Steve pressed into you, cedar and mint and boyish cologne as the curve of your ass settled into his hips. As soon as the kayak was in place, you spun, pushing at his shoulders.

“I can do it myself,” you mumbled, suddenly far too flustered to sound overly annoyed. “I don’t need your help.”

“Christ, princess, you sound like a five year old,” Steve scoffed, but you couldn’t help but notice the flush on his cheeks, looking like you felt. “Can’t admit when you need help, huh?”

“I don’t need help from you, wonder boy,” you tried to laugh, but it came out too pitchy, too forced.

The camp was quiet now the kids had gone back to their cabins, the lake settling after the afternoon swim, the smell of churros and pizza rolls coming from the mess hall. The air fizzed with summer heat and something else and you weren’t sure why, but your chest was heaving, the straps of your swimsuit suddenly feeling too tight.

“Stop calling me that,” Steve growled, eyes flashing and he moved into you again, the way he did when every argument started. “You know I fuckin’ hate that.”

“No shit,” you spat, meeting him in the middle, chin raised in a taunt, a dare, a challenge. “You think I’m here to make your life easier than it already is?” “You’re fucking infuriating,” Steve hissed, “you know fuck all about my life, princess, don’t act like you’re so hard done by.”

You pressed a hand to Steve’s stomach, ignoring the way the muscles there clenched under your touch and you pushed at him, something inside you crackling when he didn’t budge.

You hated his stupid smile, the way his lips twisted when he made you mad enough to scrunch your nose at him. You hated the way he looked down at you when you were this close, through his lashes, like you were something to be studied. Like he liked the way got into his personal space.

“Well damn, why don’t you tell me how you really feel, Harrington?”

Steve pushed his tongue to the inside of his cheek to try and hide his grin, and he shrugged, trying to look entirely unbothered at your pushing. He took another step towards you, chasing you slowly when you stumbled back, body pressed to the stacked kayaks behind you.

The old boats were warm from the sun, the cheap pvc hot on your skin, back bared down the low cut of your swimsuit, your shorts doing nothing to protect the backs of your thighs. You wondered if that’s why your chest felt flushed, if that’s why your face was heating up.

“Can’t do that,” he said, tutting before taking his time letting his eyes drop down your body, before trailing back up again. He caught your gaze, held it, bolder than ever. “I’ll get in too much trouble.”

And then, he fucking winked.

So really, it was Steve’s fault that you stumbled into the racks, the kayak that the boy had just helped you push into place rocking on the rails. Neither of you had the reflexes to do anything about it when it slipped backwards, landing on the hard ground, the dull thud ringing out across camp, the sound ending with a sharp crack, the pvc splitting across the bow of the boat.

So that’s how you both ended your night in the mess hall, waving after Bob as he finished serving up sloppy joes and went to find the gaggle of kids that demanded that he needed to fix their broken Walkmans and waterlogged Mattel electronic games.

Murray had stood in front of you both, grinning widely as he handed you mops and cleaning supplies, gleefully pointing out the mustard stains on the linoleum, the spattering of jello that had somehow painted one of the windows.

It was times like these that you were almost sure you preferred Hopper’s red face and grumbled lectures.

“I want this place spotless,” Murray told you both, waving a pair of yellow rubber gloves at Steve. The boy snatched them, face less than impressed when the man simply chuckled. “If you can flirt somewhere away from expensive camp property, you can work out some of this sexual tension by trying to get rid of that dried in chilli from last year.”

You would’ve gagged at the mention of the fossilised food if you hadn’t burned at the insinuation of flirting. And sexual tension. With Steve fucking Harrington.

But the boy beat you to it, as always, his eyes widening and he brandished the mop like a weapon as he pointed at you.

“We were not flirting,” he insisted, “we do not flirt.”

Murray chuckled, “alright Casanova, keep your hair on.”

You snorted and Steve scowled, shooting you a look that clearly was meant to tell you to shut the fuck up, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Murray, I’d like to think in all the years that we’ve known each other, you’d think I had better taste than to pine after Harrington,” you turned to the boy, smiling as sweet as the summer outside. “Wonder boy has enough of the fifteen year olds twirling their pigtails for him.”

“Stop calling me that.”

You ignored him, splashing his trainers with your mop instead and he kicked your bucket in return.

“Yeah, no, this?” Murray clicked his fingers at you both, pointing back and forth at you as if you were a science experiment. “This is ridiculous. Do something about it before you both implode. I’m not having you take the entire camp down just because you’re both too horny to come to terms with normal human emotions.”

Your jaw dropped, a small noise of indignation coming from you and Steve looked completely bewildered.

He grinned once more, smug as he shook his head, like he was the only enjoying whatever inside joke was going on. He turned to leave, not before reaching into his pocket and flicking something at Steve.

The boy caught it instinctively and he turned to the man with wide eyes. But Murray was already walking away, a stern hand raised in the air, finger pointed to the roof as if he was giving you both some sage words of wisdom as he called out:

“Keep it clean!”

You realised he wasn’t just referring to the mess hall when Steve held up the object, face aghast and cheeks positively on fire, the square, foil packet pinched between his fingers.

You were burning, mouth open in surprise and you panicked, batting Steve’s hand and making the condom fall into the sudsy water you had both already spilled onto the floor.

You definitely preferred Hopper’s way of punishment.

“Put that in the trash, right fucking now,” you demanded, staring at the offending object like it was a ticking time bomb, waiting to blow.

“Christ, settle down, princess priss,” Steve huffed, “it’s not gonna bite.”

But for once, he did what you asked, the highs of his cheeks still tinted pink as he snatched the silver packet from the floor, stuffing it deep into the trash bags you’d both been equipped with. He didn’t look at you.

You both worked in silence as the late afternoon turned into dusk, the sky outside the window a pretty lavender, the clouds over the lake turning the water tangerine and it was so quiet.

Most of the kids would be in their bunks by now, some excitedly making their way over to one of the older cabins where Eddie would organise a game of Dungeons and Dragons for them all. Nancy would be in Hop’s office, going through the next week's schedule and Jonathan would be hidden in his makeshift darkroom, a small shed that was once used for bikes.

You were almost certain Billy would be skulking the woods, looking for a ritual sacrifice or some lone kid to blow his shrill whistle at. Either option seemed likely.

Robin would probably already be back in your shared cabin, music on, one of Eddie’s free joints hanging from her lips and you wondered if Steve would normally spend his down time alone, or if he liked to wander the collection of bars the next town over had to offer. If he brought some girl back to his cabin, if he pressed her down onto his stupid bunk that probably smelled like sunscreen and his cologne.

Your stomach twisted ugly at the thought and you slammed the soaking mop down onto the floor harder than you needed to.

You were positively glowering at the streaks of leftover over pudding some kind had smeared across the floor, kicking the forgotten baseball cards and tiny action figures so they skittered under the stacked chairs.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” The boy called out.

He was sitting on one of the long lunch tables, legs swinging with a smirk on his face. He’d hardly cleaned, you’d come to realise, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You had other reasons to be mad now.

You stared at him from across the empty hall, chest heaving with an annoyance that only Steve Harrington could pull from you. You let mop clatter roll the floor, uncaring as you rounded on him.

“You,” you spat, hands on your hips and hair messy from where the late night heat made it stick to your forehead.

“Me?” Steve asked, all faux shock and innocence with a hand pressed to his chest. He grinned, wolfish and sharp edges. “Didn’t realise I had an effect on your underwear, princess, wanna elaborate?”

There it was again, you realised. That flirting lilt that weaved its way through his usual taunts and teases, Steve’s normal bite not quite cutting as deep. Not this year, not this time.

It made you flustered, on edge, unable to formulate the kind of barbed reply you usually kept on the tip of your tongue, just for him, and oh my god, it infuriated you.

“You have absolutely no reason to be thinking about what’s under my shorts, Harrington,” you told him, eyes narrowed as you went about moving the stacks of chairs against the wall.

“Bold of you to assume I’d want to, Hawkins.”

The light was leaking from the day and what was left of the sun made the shadows on Steve’s face lilac and peach. You didn’t know you’d marched over to him until you were able to reach out and touch him.

You didn’t. You couldn’t.

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, “don’t call me that as if you don’t come from the same shitty, backwater town as me.”

Steve leaned forward, his hands curling around the edge of the table as he raised his brows, ready for another argument. You could feel the heat radiating from him, like he’d trapped the sun in his chest, like summer lived inside of him.

“D’you prefer princess? The princess of Hawkins, is that it?” His voice was mocking, his eyes sarcastically soft.

“Fuck off, Harrington,” you snarled, and you couldn’t help but lean in too, Steve’s knees pressing into the front of your thighs, your fists clenched by your sides. “At least I’m getting away from that place without my daddy paying my way out.”

“Watch your mouth, sweetheart,” Steve spoke lowly, more serious than you’d heard him before. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Ooh, did I hit a nerve, sweetheart?” You bit back.

The boy stared at you, gaze heavy and hot in a way that made you squirm. The air was buzzing, popping and crackling like there had been a fire lit between you and suddenly, you didn’t know how you were supposed to end this fight.

The tension was too thick to walk away from, sticky like honey, trapping you there.

“You’re fucking impossible,” he whispered, staring at you like you were a puzzle piece that just didn’t fit. “You’re a pain in my ass, you have been since fucking freshman year.”

You scoffed, pinched and nipped by his words because you were just as aggravated by his presence as he was yours. Maybe more. And probably for longer.

“Freshman year?” You said, surprise colouring your tone. “That’s real cute Harrington, but you’ve been getting on my last fucking nerve since seventh grade.”

“Seventh grade? What the fu-”

You sucked in a breath, preparing yourself. You’d been waiting for this moment for eight years.

“Mrs Duncan’s science fair!” You burst out, “I worked my ass off making those vegetable batteries!”

Steve was staring at you blankly, lips parted.

“I had my tables and all my charts, I even bought a metre to measure the voltage with just my pocket money!” You jabbed a finger to his chest, lips twisted into an almost pathetic pout but you felt twelve again and Steve Harrington still pushing your buttons.

“And you! You waltzed in half an hour late, with a stupid bottle of coke and some mentos, claiming that you’d been the one to discover fucking CO2.”

Steve, unable to hide his amused smile, just shrugged. “I was barely thirteen, Jesus Christ princess…”

“And then your dad came in behind you,” you sniffed. “He walked right up to Mrs Duncan and handed her a piece of paper. And I remember it had a few zeros on it,” you laughed without much humour.

The smile slipped from Steve’s face.

“It was so weird, y’know? How that happened and then you won? And then the next week the library had been restocked and suddenly there were new bunsen burners in the science lab.”

You were genuinely surprised when Steve shoved past you, his hands a shocking heat on the dip of your waist as he grabbed at you to tug you out of his way. You didn’t know when you’d moved to stand between his legs, close enough to see the different shades of brown in his eyes, the way there was a small freckle just below his left brow.

He was marching across the mess hall, mop and trash bag forgotten and you were so shocked that it took you a few seconds before you called out, weaker than you had previously been speaking.

“What’s wrong, wonder boy? Don’t like it when you’re called out?”

You weren’t sure if you felt smug or concerned when he spun on his heel, stalking back towards you and moving into you, close enough that the mess of his hair brushed your forehead. But you stood your ground, your legs bumping into the back of the table he’d just left, and you watched through interested eyes as Steve’s chest heaved.

He looked like he wanted to say something, to yell at you even. But you tilted your chin in one last act of defiance, the tip of your nose just, just brushing his and you swore on everything that was holy that you watched the fight leave him.

He was still breathing heavily, like he’d run a mile, took a few hits in a boxing ring, got into a fight with a pretty girl and walked back in for more. You hated it when you realised your chest was moving the same, breaths leaving you in short bursts but you didn’t dare let your stare drop from the boy’s.

You watched lips part, you watched his gaze drop to your mouth and suddenly the birds outside stopped chirping and you could’ve sworn that the world ceased spinning. It felt like the forest was waiting.

Like it was holding its breath.

But then the mop that Steve had left resting against the table he had crowded you against fell, clattering to the floor with a sharp echo. It startled you both, jumping apart as you shared one last breath together, eyes on the floor, cheeks burning.

You didn’t try to stop him when he left a second time, managing to disappear out of the door and into the summer night. You watched the trees and the shadows swallow him, fireflies and leftover smoke in the air and fucking hell, you hated that you watched him walk away until his cabin door could be heard slamming shut.

Tell me what you’ve got in mind.

By the end of the second week of camp, the staff was starting to show the stress of running after a bunch of kids twenty four hours a day. Some of the younger children in Robin's group had caught a bug, and between your friend, yourself and Joyce, you were all run ragged, hauling buckets across camp and dishing out cold compresses like sweets.

So when Saturday rolled in, warmer than the last, you were all ready to let off some steam, meeting behind the gymnasium when the sun went down, greeted by a small fire that Eddie got going in an old trash can. He brought some pre-rolled joints, some stolen bags of chips from Bob’s secret stash and the gym was far away enough from the rest of the camp that no one heard the noise of the boombox Jonathan brought with him.

You threw your own additions into the middle of the makeshift circle that the seven of you made, the newer counsellors still too scared to toe the line of what might get them fired. You stared at the pile of paraphernalia in the middle of the halved logs, makeshift sofas in the too long grass.

A baggie of weed, a grinder and Eddie’s tin of joints, Billy’s favourite whisky, another bottle of vodka - loaded with cherry jolly ranchers that made it pretty and pink. A few cassettes, some homemade mixtapes, the stolen chips, some red vines and sour patch kids, the packet already open and sugar coating the grass.

You hadn’t really spoken to Steve since the mess hall incident.

You’d rather immaturely begged Eddie to switch block sessions with you, allowing you to take your kids to the other side of camp, far from where Steve spent time with his group. You’d organised a massive arts and craft project with Nancy instead, avoiding her knowing looks and pointed questions, letting Dustin go crazy with googly eyes, glitter and neon felt tips instead.

It didn’t matter if you’d asked the kids to make their favourite animal, you’d accept Henderson’s four eyed, sparkly green lizard looking thing over Nancy’s inquisition any day of week. You felt a little bad though, when you all discovered as a group that Will was most definitely allergic to the new type of glue sticks that Hopper had bought.

But it meant that you’d only seen Steve during some meal times, a glance over breakfast, a small collision during one dinner, fries and a bottle of iced tea falling to the floor and everyone had stopped, stared, waited for the yells.

They hadn’t come.

You’d watched him argue with Max when she climbed a tree that he’d already warned her was too tall, you and your group stopping mid swim in the lake to bob around in the current, watching as the boy kicked a dead branch in frustration before scrambling up after her when Max inevitably got stuck.

You knew he was listening in when Dustin started asking why you worked at the camp, a question he asked you every year. You always told the boy it was because you loved seeing him and the rest of the rugrats he called friends. And it always worked when he was younger, ‘cause he’d smile and let you muss up his curls, overjoyed with such an answer and a piece of bubblegum from your pocket.

But he was older now and less believing and when you gave him the same adoring monologue, he simply raised his brows and asked again.

“College,” you had told him simply. “Or money really. I need the cash to be able to leave Hawkins and go somewhere else.”

“Where?” Dustin had asked you, sincere in only the way kids could be.

You were overly aware that Harrington was sitting behind you at the other table, back to back with you on the benches as he showed El how to tie her elastic just right, so that her slingshot would definitely beat Sinclairs. You didn’t have it in you to tell both of them that that kind of craft project definitely wasn’t allowed.

You leaned into Dustin instead and shrugged, smiling softly despite the way you saw Steve in your peripheral, turning just enough so he could hear you say:

“Anywhere.”

So it was a little jarring when he arrived at your little staff get together, camp shirt replaced with one of his own, a sunshine yellow tee that made his eyes look like honey and his skin more tanned. You hated that you noticed, that you knew he looked good.

He greeted everyone warmly, bar you, sending you a curt nod of his head over the burning fire that had Nancy rolling her eyes and Robin poking you in the ribs. Because there were no barbed wire words exchanged between either of you, no jabs, no bites, no smug smiles or sarcastic grins.

“What is going on with you two?”

You ignored her question, giving her a warning glare that she also chose to ignore, ‘cause she went and sat next to Eddie and Jonathan instead, whispering to them behind the plumes of smoke they’d created.

After a few drinks and several people telling Billy to shut up, the night turned darker, the sky navy and the air still stiflingly warm. The fire was more a source of light than heat at this point, or as Eddie liked to remind everyone, ‘it’s for the ambience,’ and everyone was doing their best to stay away from the flames, skin already tight and sore with fresh sunburn from that day.

It only took the vodka bottle being emptied before Billy announced a game of truth or dare, to which everyone groaned and asked what age he was. But he tutted, unperturbed and dropped the empty glass bottle into the middle of the messy circle your bodies had made.

“Don’t be so fuckin’ boring,” he intoned, “it’s either this or hitchhiking into Bloomington to find a chick that likes being on top-”

The girls groaned, faces pulled into disgust and Jonathan was shaking his head, a bemused look on his face.

“-and quite frankly that seems like too much effort tonight.”

Steve scoffed, taking the joint Eddie offered him, pushing it between his lips for a hit before he turned to Billy, one eyebrow raised.

“You mean finding a girl that doesn’t already know you’re a giant dickhead is gettin’ harder to find?”

Sometimes you wondered if Steve hated Billy more than he hated you.

“There’s always your princess,” Billy grinned, eyeing you in a way that made you feel like you were under a microscope. “She’s gotta give into me sometime, right?”

“Keep dreaming, Hargrove,” you butted in, doing nothing to hide the disgust in your voice. You wanted to kick yourself when you realised you’d responded to being Steve’s princess, your name never even being mentioned. “I’d rather kiss Harrington.”

The wave of something washed over the group at your words, wide eyes and soft smirks, and you felt your stomach sink. Steve was staring at you, eyes lit up with something that looked akin to a challenge, a dare that you hadn’t yet been asked.

Fuck.

“Is that so?” Billy laughed, a harsh noise that let everyone know he wasn’t happy at your statement. But he grinned, sharp teeth and sharper blue eyes, steely on you. “You always pick dare, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“That’s not-”

“I dare you to give us all some entertainment and make out with Harrington,” Billy continued, talking over you without even blinking. “Maybe if both of your mouths are busy, we’ll get some fuckin’ peace and quiet around here.”

Nobody breathed.

But someone must’ve picked your mixtape out of the pile, ‘cause the opening beat to ‘I Think We’re Alone Now,’ by Tiffany, started to play. You stared at Billy, shocked at his suggestion, his demand. The game suddenly felt less fun and the only sounds were the echo of your strangled scoff and the crackle of the fire.

But then Nancy was pushing her foot into your ankle from where she sat on her boyfriend's lap, eyes glittering.

“On you go,” she told you, and you think she was trying to be encouraging.

“What?”

“What?” Nancy repeated, doe eyes innocent and wide, like she didn’t know what she was doing. “You picked dare!”

“I didn’t say shit!” You exclaimed, looking around at your friends for help. Robin and Eddie were cackling, faces pressed into each others shoulders, and being absolutely no fucking help to you. “Guys!”

“C’mon, Hawkins, you don’t like to lose now, do you?” Billy was grinning from where he lazed across some old crash mats, his voice a slow drawl as he chewed some gum obnoxiously. “Give Harrington a little lovin’.”

‘Children, behave… that’s what they say when we’re together.’

You turned to Steve, who was still leaning against the gym wall, his eyes finding yours even in the dim evening light. He looked unsure, nervous even, like he was ready to tell the rest of them to shut up, to pack it in. But then he watched the way you brought the bottle of wine to your lips, letting the rest of the sweet drink trickle past your lips and god, he looked at you like he was ready to fight.

Dark brown eyes, smirk on his lips, cocky tilt of his head like he was waiting for you.

He sucked a breath in through his teeth as he watched you stand there, thinking, weighing up your options.

“What’s my forfeit?” You asked cautiously.

You turned when Billy chuckled, blue eyes looking as navy as the sky. He let his head tip back, smoke slipping from his lips and into the trees before he grinned at you, far, far too happily.

“Me,” he told you.

So Steve sighed, overly dramatic before he spoke to the group, voice full of that easy confidence you hated so much.

“Don’t worry princess, you can give it your best shot and I promise I won’t feel a damn thing.”

Your friends cackled and hollered around you; always thoroughly amused by the show you and Steve put on. Robin shook her head from where she sat beside Eddie, a shit eating grinning pulling at her lips and she spilled some beer as she leaned forward and called out:

“What’s that they say? It’s a fine line between love and hate?”

More laughs, whispers and knowing nudges, dollar bills exchanging hands as the group placed their bets on what would happen next.

“I bet your dick says otherwise.”

You don’t know what made you mention Steve Harrington’s dick, but it made the boy’s jaw go slack and the rest of the circle lost it. More whistles, jeering and catcalls broke the quiet of the night, loud over the music, louder because of the vodka and you couldn’t help but set Steve with a smile and a shrug.

This felt like a game you wanted to win.

So you walked over to where he stood, leaning lazy against the gym wall, watching you move towards him like a predator stalking its prey. He was looking at you the same way he did when you ended up on opposite teams for a game of capture the flag, all red hot intensity, pride and confidence bubbling over.

You were surprised when Steve’s hands settled on the dip of your waist, holding you there as you pushed up on your toes to find his lips. Your hand grabbed at his shirt, fisted at the collar to pull him down to you and something in your stomach tumbled when he obeyed.

He didn’t make any more moves though, eyes almost closed as he looked at you through his lashes, watching, waiting, seeing if you fulfilled your dare.

It was awfully quiet now, your friends silent, the radio and the fire both crackling and you could hear how you and Steve’s harsh breaths fell over each other’s faces.

You’d never been this close before. And then it all happened a little too fast.

His fingers flexed at your sides, digging into the soft there and you weren’t sure if it was out of anticipation, impatience or annoyance. There is as something screaming inside of you to move away, to take the loss, that kissing Steve fucking Harrington wouldn’t be worth the five second glory of completing a dare behind the gym hall.

But then Steve was whispering and it fell across your lips, his breath sweet like raspberry sour patch kids and rosè wine.

“If you’re too scared, princess, I totally understa-“

One more push was all you needed. A poke, a pinch, from him, the one person who knew how to rile you up the best.

You kissed him with a surprising softness. Your mouths clashed rough at first, like you did it just to shut him up, to prove a point. And that was true. But your lips gave way to him with surprising ease, a push and pull that felt less like a fight than you thought it would.

It was easy to pretend it wasn’t a dare when Steve let out the prettiest sound, a half sigh, half groan that came from the back of his throat and when he tried to move into you, to take a little more control, your hand that was still curled into his shirt pushed him back into the wall he was leaning on.

He seemed to like that though, ‘cause you felt the curve of his lips on yours, smiling into the kiss and his grip on your waist got almost too tight, like he was planning on leaving marks on you.

Maybe he was.

But then it was a fight, like always, the most dizzying kind. His lips were hot and he tasted sweet, like summer and candy and too cheap alcohol. It felt nice to be kissed, it was all very nice until you remembered it was Harrington and you pushed into him a little harder, nipped at his lip and tugged on his hair. He gave it back just as good, nails scraping against your back, just catching bare skin as he lifted the shirt from your sides.

No one said a word when you parted. Not you, not Steve, not your friends. Not even Billy. You left Steve with a small gasp, a soft noise as you finally parted, so entirely unaware of how long you’d been caught up in his kiss. You felt bruised, on fire, like you’d just stumbled away from your most heated argument yet.

The only saving grace was that he looked as dizzy as you felt.

—————

When a team meeting was called early the next morning, you walked into Hopper's cabin last, only to find everyone in different stages of a hangover, but all equally happy to see you.

They were all grinning, wide, knowing smiles that set your own teeth on edge, your headache worsening when you caught sight of Steve slouched low on the sofa.

He had a pair of Ray Bans perched on his nose and he didn’t look at you when you walked in, eyes on the floor and wincing.

Why the fuck did you kiss Steve fucking Harrington?

“Good morning to you, darlin’,” Billy drawled from where he was leaning against Murray’s desk, smirking with tired eyes. “Sleep well? You didn’t come knockin’ on my cabin so I assume Harrington took real good care of you.”

Oh, you remembered. That’s why.

“Fuck off, Hargrove.”

It was all you could muster when your mouth still tasted like bourbon and Steve, and Murray looked thoroughly interested when he took to the middle of the floor, clipboard in hand.

“I don’t know what went on last night,” he chuckled, “but I’m sure your hungover asses will be pleased to know that it’s hike day.”

Please for the love of god, no.

Everyone groaned, faces dropping in upset and Robin, who had already been sitting on the floor, her back to Nancy’s legs, slumped over, cheek pressed to the old carpet and she made a noise that was akin to a wail.

“Lucky for most of you, we already have sign ups,” Murray crowed gleefully. “Harrington, Hawkins número dos, have a great day.”

Your mouth fell open in protest - hypocritical, you knew, considering you went through the training for hiking safety last summer, but you weren’t on the schedule until next week.

You stared at Nancy who was flicking through the rota with confusion knitted into her features and when she caught your eye, she just shrugged.

“No, no, no,” you told Murray, a strange laugh bubbling in your throat that sounded like panic, “I’m not taking my kids out until next weekend, with Robin!”

Murray shrugged, not looking like he really cared and he crossed his arms, nodding his head towards Eddie.

“No, I know,” he told you in a voice he probably thought was soothing. “But Eddie Munster here-”

“Um, it’s Munson actually.”

“Whatever - your idiot colleague here decided that the road less travelled was the best way home last night.” Murray grinned and pointed down to where Eddie’s foot sat on a small stool, his ankle wrapped tightly in a haphazard bandage. “He’s sprained it.”

You gaped at the boy and Eddie had the right to look sorry, his teeth bared in an apologetic grimace and he mouthed “sorry” at you from beside Steve. His bunk mate hardly stirred.

“Can’t someone else go?” You asked, spinning back to Murray and you didn’t even care that you sounded desperate. “Like, literally anyone else?”

But Murray kept smiling, his clipboard clasped to his chest like a schoolgirl with a secret diary and he sighed dramatically at you before shaking his head.

“No.”

“But Hopper specifically said that we’re not allowed to group together anymore!” You tried, gesturing wildly to Steve who barely answered with a groan. “Not after summer eighty three when he almost drowned me.”

“Okay that’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

You rounded on the boy, hands still flapping around yourself. “Oh, he speaks! Don’t you have anything to say about this?”

Steve peered at you from over the top of his sunglasses, brown eyes weary behind them. He groaned, frowned and pushed his head onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“Yeah, no, I’m too tired to argue right now, princess.”

Murray looked entirely too amused and he crooked his finger in air quotes when he snorted and said, “sure, tired, gotcha.” He turned back to you, still grinning obnoxiously. “Anyway, chief isn’t here today and I figured there isn’t any boating equipment for either of you to break out in the mountains.”

The group tittered.

“So hop to it,” he clapped his hands, board tucked under his arm and everyone leapt to their feet when the older man made a move to grab the whistle that hung around his neck. “The kids are finishing breakfast and I want both your groups at the meeting point for a safety debrief before nine.”

—————

You were busy smearing another layer of sunscreen on Will’s nose when Dustin appeared at your side.

The two groups had made it halfway up the trail, the sun lazy and warm, the way it could only be on an early morning hike. The sky was still hazy, a soft blue lavender that made the clouds in the sky seem dreamlike. The kids were still quiet with sleep, trailing happily behind each other, trading secrets and sips of water with their assigned hike buddies.

It was nice. Apart from Steve leading the way with a scowl on his face.

“Are you and Steve fighting?” Dustin asked, curls stuffed messily under a Camp Upside Down hat.

You finished patting at Will’s forehead as you turned to the other boy with a soft frown. But the two kids stared up at you expectantly, as if waiting for some sort of answer.

“Uh, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Henderson,” you laughed softly, “but Harrington and I fight all the time. Argue, I mean. Hitting is bad.”

Will rolled his eyes as he fell back into step beside you, the three of you continuing up the path a little behind the rest of the group. But Dustin tugged at your shirt sleeve, clearly not finished with the conversation, nor satisfied with your answer.

“But that’s the point,” he proclaimed and you huffed as you pulled him out of the way of a fallen branch, his attention focused too much on you to notice it in his way. “You haven’t been mean to each other all morning.”

“Or called each other names,” Will pointed out from the other side of you.

“That’s because name calling isn’t nice,” you tried to protest, but your voice sounded weak even to your own ears.

“You call each other names all the time.”

For the love of god.

Suzie Bingham had appeared beside Dustin, coke bottle glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose as she set you with a knowing look. Dustin grinned at the girl's appearance, cheeks pink as their shoulders brushed together on the narrow path.

“That’s not the point,” you told her, grappling for an explanation. You glanced up ahead, over the crowd of children’s heads to see Steve bickering with Lucas and Mike, Max poking him in the back with a long stick as she trudged behind them. “We’re adults.”

All three kids stared at you, expressionless and less than impressed.

“Have you and Steve ever kissed?” Will suddenly asked, letting the words burst out from his chest like he knew he shouldn’t have asked.

You tripped over a branch, the same fallen sticks that scattered the trail that you’d pulled Dustin away from. You turned to look at the boy so fast that your neck protested, your eyes wide.

“Because Steve looks at you like he wants to kiss you all the time.”

And then you were on the ground, gravel stuck to your bare knees and dirt on your hands and shins, swearing at the forest floor because all you could think about was the press of Harrington’s lips on yours, the way he dug his fingers into your sides like he couldn’t let go.

Fuck.

“Shit!” You cried out, hot, frustrated tears brimming at your lash line and you winced when you tried to stand back up.

Suzie dropped to the trail beside you, eyes worried as she took note of the blood that slipped down your leg, a nasty gash on your knee that looked like it came from the jagged piece of bark that lay beside you.

“Someone get Steve,” she started to say, a small hand on your shoulder that brought a little comfort.

But Dustin was already cupping his hands over his mouth and positively hollering over the line of kids that were oblivious to what was going on behind them.

“STEVE!”

You groaned, “Dustin, no, I’m fine, honest.”

“You’re bleeding!” Will protested, looking rather sickly at the sight of the red line that was quickly seeking into the white of your sock.

“STEEEVE!”

“Kill me,” you whispered to the ground, “just kill me.”

You saw Steve’s trainers before anything else, the soft thud, thud, thud of his soles on the dirt as he pushed his way through to you. You managed to shove yourself back, your knees protesting before dropping to your ass, inspecting your bloodied leg, wincing.

“Shit, are you okay?”

No comment about your clumsiness, or how you were dumb, or how your dirty, cut up knee looked gross. No, Steve’s voice was shockingly soft with concern as he dropped down on his haunches to inspect your injury.

“M’fine,” you muttered, cheeks warm because he was almost as close as he had been last night, smelling like leftover cologne and sunscreen, the strawberry smoothie you’d watched him grab at breakfast.

“Really?” He mused, his tone disbelieving. “‘Cause that looks pretty nasty, princess.”

His hand moved to cup the back of your sore knee, fingers tucked into the sensitive skin there as he went to inspect the scrape. You jolted at his touch, body electric underneath him and you watched the way Steve’s eyes widened at your reaction.

“Shit, did that hurt?”

“What? No, yes, fuck,” you were panicking, you could hear it in your voice and from somewhere behind you, you heard the distinctive sound of Max Mayfield’s laugh. “Just, Christ, don’t touch me.”

“I’m trying to help, idiot,” Steve snarked but he backed off scowling. You watched how he flexed his hand after he let go of your leg, like his skin was burning the same way yours was, like he’d been scalded. “You need to go get that cleaned.”

You hated that the boy was right but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of agreeing out loud. Instead, you wrestled to your feet, grunting as you did so, wiggling your ankle to make sure you hadn’t suffered the same fate as Eddie. It seemed fine, nothing crunched at least, but the sting around your split skin screamed at you.

Another slide of red rushed from your cut and down your leg as you moved it and beside you, Will groaned, quickly moving into the crowd to find Mike, his head pushed into his friend's shoulder and his hands clutched at his own stomach.

A chorus of “eww’s” came from the kids and you weren’t fairing much better, your expression pitiful as you watched your white converse turn crimson. You held your leg out awkwardly, hardly balancing on your good one and every time you pushed your foot to the ground, you hissed.

It stung like a bitch.

But then Steve was clapping his hands, well into camp mother mode as he demanded the kids attention. To his credit, everyone looked at him, waiting for further instruction. Well, everyone except Max, who’d found a larger, longer stick and was holding it, javelin style.

“Okay, let’s go,” he announced, his eyes still on you, and you were still surprised to see worry knitted in the space between his brows. “Turn it around gremlins, everyone in front of us and take your time going back down, okay? Stick with your buddy.”

The kids obeyed, muttering between themselves about how much blood was on your leg and would Hopper let them go to the lake now instead? But they trailed back down the path, two by two, and you and Steve waited for the last pair to pass you before he turned, grimacing.

“Put your arm ‘round me.”

You baulked, staring at the boy as if he’d suddenly grown another head.

“What? No,” you hated that you sounded so nervous, and you wondered if he could tell.

“Christ, woman,” Steve rolled his eyes, offering a hand out to you, the warmth of it hovering close to the small of your back. “Can you swallow your fucking pride for a second and let me help you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sniffed, but you wobbled on your one good leg and Steve didn’t try to hide his smile.

“Stubbornness, then,” he mused, eyes on you and his hand still hovering over your back as you started down the hill, an uneven step that had you swearing and muttering to yourself. “Spite, maybe?”

“Fuck you, Harrington,” you told him plainly, hardly any heat behind it for once due to all your attention focused on the pain you were in. Your poor sock was ruined.

Steve’s shoulder bumped yours, his body too close, acting like a buffer in case you fell again. You huffed every time you touched, bare arms brushing, hips grazing and his damn hand still an almost touch on your spine. You could feel the warmth radiate from him.

“Is that dare, princess?” He was smirking.

You stumbled, swearing profusely as you had no choice but to reach out and grab the boy. Steve was already halfway to you, his arm resting at your waist, his other hand catching yours as it grappled for purchase on something. His fingers curled around yours and you were surprised to realise, that aside from the night before, this was the most you had touched the boy in all the years you had known him.

It was dizzying. But maybe that was the blood loss. His palm was even warmer where it was pressed against your back, the dip where the band of your shorts sat, fitting into the curve rather nicely. Steve guided you down the trail, taking more of your weight when the ground became rockier, the gravel under your soles making you slip, your side falling into Steve’s.

“We’re not talking about that,” you told him, teeth clenched as your knee bent at a funny angle, a new kind of pain nipping at you.

“Oh, we’re not?” Steve asked, voice annoyingly light. You could feel his grin without having to look, like you knew the way the air changed when he smiled, everything warm and dizzying around you.

“Nope!” You declared, your tone leaving hardly any room for argument. Luckily for Steve, he always liked a challenge. “In fact,” you crowed, “it didn’t even happen.”

The boy snorted, a soft sound that you felt through your body, half of your back pressed into his chest as you both toed your way down the steepest part of the mountain. He held you to him, careful not to let you drop your weight onto your leg, one hand still curled large around your own, the other holding your waist now.

You swallowed, throat tight.

“It didn’t happen, huh?” Steve asked, voice low in your ear as you approached the back of the kids, Lucas and Suzie’s ears pricking up at the idea of eavesdropping. “That’s what we’re doing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you repeated again, voice airy, nails digging into the back of Steve’s hand, a warning, another fight blooming in your chest.

Another snort, a tighter grip at your waist, as if he was trying to remind you of the way he held you last night, calloused fingertips pushing at the cotton of your t-shirt, barely touching the skin underneath.

You were so much warmer than when you were climbing up the mountain.

This waiting ‘rounds killing me.

The third week went by in a blur, your incident on the hike leaving you with a nasty cut on your knee that Joyce had to dig gravel and dirt out of, and a sudden overwhelming awareness of where Steve Harrington was at all times.

Your body lit up like a warning light every time he was near, a new agitation at the sight of his stupid hair and his stupid sunglasses and his stupid, stupid smirk.

He didn’t try to talk about the kiss again, he wasn’t that idiotic. But the energy between you both was a little different than before. It was still fiery, buzzing with tension and an electrical current that kept you on your toes, but it was different.

You weren’t sure if you liked it.

The week led up to the annual game of hide and seek, the entire camp split into two teams, the cabins turned into bases, the inside of the old gym a ghost town. No one was surprised when Murray declared you and Steve team leaders - one seeking, the other hiding - the camp cheering and whistling as you both took your new shirts, both with ‘captain’ printed on the back.

You’d barely led your team away from the middle of the camp before you heard Steve declare:

“Okay listen up, we need to win.”

You appraised your own squad with the same focused stare that Steve had, your gaze settling over Eddie and Nancy, the gaggle of kids that were all smearing face paint over their friends. War stripes on their cheeks, bandana’s wrapped around their foreheads and Dustin had even gone as far as to don a green ski mask.

You squinted at him, wondering if you should ask where he got such a thing but you decided against it, voice endearing as you said, “Dustin, sweetie, I don’t think you’re going to be able to see very well out of that.”

And before he could argue his case, Eddie pinched the top of it, whipping the fabric from his head, curls spilling out messily. The boy pouted, but he didn’t argue, instead standing still enough to let Lucas smear blue lines over his face.

“You gonna force me into the smallest corner you can find?” Eddie had turned to you whilst Nancy handed out some bottles of water, hushing the trash talk that was starting to get out of hand between Lucas and Suzie.

You grinned, looking at Eddie with an easy smile, shrugging, “maybe. You’re pretty flexible, right Munson?”

The boy snorted, shoulder nudging into yours, “like a fucking gymnast, sweetheart.”

You fell into a soft conversation with Eddie, a rare occurrence in the craziness of the camp, all gentle laughs and hands pushed to arms, cracked jokes and the promise of a joint after the game was over. And then Steve was there, almost too close, brows knitted together as he watched the way his bunkmate pressed teasing fingers into your ribs, making you squeak.

“Are we flirting or are we playing?” He snapped, shoulder brushing yours. But Steve wasn’t looking at you, his stare heavy and trained on Eddie. “Hey dude, didn’t Joyce tell you you’ve got to stick with Will?”

Eddie could read his friend like a book. He smirked, unable to help himself when Steve was making it so obvious, but he nodded, moving away from you to tussle at Will’s hair.

“Sure am, Harrington,” the longer-haired boy smiled good naturedly, “little Byers and I are gonna find the best spot, right kid?”

Will nodded enthusiastically, inhaler in hand and Mike at his side. But Steve was still scowling, eyes finally meeting yours before he turned suddenly, marching back to his team as if he couldn’t bear to be around you for any longer.

And that was fine with you. Totally fine.

From then, it was chaos, carnage across the camp with kids running riot, wrestling for the best hiding spot as Hopper and Murray watched from the office window, cups of coffee in hand.

It went the way it always did, with Mike and Will caught first, the latter giving away their hiding spot way too soon because his allergies made him sneeze, the other boy refusing to split from his friend.

Eddie trailed behind them, lazy and unbothered about being out of the game so early, a cigarette tucked behind his ear, waiting for Murray to stop watching.

The kids spread around the camp in clusters, hiding in beached kayaks, under the dock, squeezed between the crash mats in the gym. Max was caught out in the open - after being refused sanctuary in Hopper’s office - scowl on her face, El dragged behind her, grinning as you laughed.

“Hit the benches,” Steve had told them both, watching as they took their consolation s’mores from Joyce and sat with the rest of the captured kids around the fire.

Steve’s team took out the other kids one by one, screams and laughter heard across the forest, campers crawling out from underneath decking and out of trees, covered in mud and nettle stings, but so, so happy.

And then there were hardly any players left.

But Steve bypassed Dustin and Lucas, the two boys snickering underneath an overturned canoe, and he headed to the gym instead. The old building was empty, his footsteps echoing on the linoleum and the lights were off, the sun that was starting to set just barely shining in the high set windows.

It painted stripes of light and shadows on the floor and the air seemed golden. Steve kicked at the crash mats that were stacked and

pushed against a wall, his movements playful and throwing dust mites into the air. They caught the light, floating, glittering and Steve saw a pair of shoes sticking out from behind the ball cage and he grinned.

If you heard him walking over, you didn’t show it, stubbornly standing your ground until Steve rounded the corner, eyes bright on yours.

“You’re losing your edge, princess, that was far too easy.”

You were scowling at him and you pushed yourself away from the cage, the wheels squeaking as you rounded the other side, eyes on the boy. It was familiar, that feeling, that push and pull, a chase, a challenge, a dare.

“Don’t kid yourself Harrington, I’ve been waiting here for about an hour now.”

Steve followed, eyes trailing over your bare legs, the swell of your ass in your shorts, freckle on your thigh, the silver scar on your knee from the hike. You noticed, brows raised and you snorted when he shrugged, unapologetic in a way you hadn’t seen before.

He didn’t care if you caught him staring. Steve Harrington had always been the first to call you annoying, stubborn, a thorn in his side. But he’d never tried to deny that you were good to look at.

“That’s only ‘cause I was enjoying the peace and quiet,” Steve shot back and you smiled at him, eyes narrowed, overly fake. “But it looks like I win, who would’ve thought?”

But you were still moving, stepping around the pile of mats, the cold material brushing against your shins and the light from the window made you glow, eyes too bright, smile sharp.

You stared at the boy from across the crash pads, voice sticky sweet when you asked, “don’t you have to tag the other opponent before they’re out?”

Steve stopped, level with you across the hall and he grinned. And fuck, he looked pretty like that, standing in a sunbeam, freckles on his nose, hands on hips and eyes burning on you.

You weren’t arguing, not quite, not yet. But it still felt fun.

Steve looked around, eyes conspiring, and he smirked. “There’s no one here to say I didn’t, princess.”

And then you were moving again, circling each other, smiling a different kind of playfulness and you tutted, pushing your hands into the back pockets of your shorts and you smirked when Steve followed the movement of it.

“Cheating? C’mon now, wonder boy, you’re above that. Daddy’s not here.”

Steve twisted his lips, ran a hand through his already messy hair and made it flop into his eyes and he pretended to think, just for a second or two, as if he didn’t already know what he was gonna throw back at you.

“Usually,” he told you, voice low, a little rougher than before. “But I think you owe me one, princess.”

You quirked a brow at him, standing still, one knee lifted and pressed to the mats to steady yourself.

“Is that so?”

There was a fizz in the air that hadn’t been there before.

“You got to win your little dare ‘cause of me,” he told you and god, something shifted. Maybe the sun dropped, maybe the shadows got darker, maybe the air got heavier. “I saved you from the clutches of Hargrove.”

You scoffed, turning and going back to walking around the mat, hiding the way your cheeks burned.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, remember?”

But Steve just grinned, that wide, bright kinda smile that showed off the dimples you almost forgot he had. He looked boyish like this, handsome in a pretty way, soft and full of sun. Maybe it was because he was looking at you without the lines between his brows, the downturn of his lips.

“Oh but you do, don’t you, sweetheart?”

‘Sweetheart’ was starting to sound less like an insult, less like a jab, when Steve said it. His voice was softer, a teasing pitch to it, that sounded so much different than you’d heard and you decided that you didn’t hate it.

Not at all.

But the boy was talking about the kiss and he was looking at you like you both shared a secret, despite the very public location it happened in. He was acting as if he liked it, as if he wanted you to admit that you did too.

You stopped, converse digging into the wall the mats made, eyes wary on the boy because Steve kept walking. He found one side, then the other, only pausing when you were a foot away from him. He mirrored you, hands shoved into his own pockets as he watched you through messy hair.

“What d’you want me to say, Harrington? Huh?” you smiled, sardonic, lips twisted to the side and gaze careful. You didn’t want to give anything away. “You want me to tell you that I liked it, is that it?”

Steve smirked, enjoying your tone, the teasing, the push of the taunt, the bite to your voice. He knew it so well.

“You want me to tell you that you’re a good kisser? Does wonder boy need a little ego boost?”

“Oh princess, I don’t need anyone to tell me that.“

Steve’s voice was a drawl. Heavy, warm, sticking to you like the summer heat, all low, hot sun and sweetness.

You were too warm, a tumble low in your stomach, a flush across your chest.

“I’m good at a lot of things,” Steve continued,voice far too casual, as if he wasn't making you think about the dirtiest things imaginable.

“You’re a pig.”

“You love it.”

“You fucking wish, Harrington.”

“Now you’re just flirting with me, princess.”

You weren’t sure when you’d moved closer. Neither was Steve, really. But you were once again in your favourite position with the boy, toe to toe and your chin tilted up defiantly to stare at him. He looked too happy, excited even.

“I’m not playing your games,” you narrowed your eyes at him, hands on your hips in an arrogant display, trying your best to prove that you weren’t as affected by the boy as you actually were.

The toes of his shoes brushed yours and you could smell his cologne, the forest on him, campfire smoke and pine, leftover rain and something minty.

“No?” Steve asked and his eyes were tracing the features of your face, the length of your lashes, the dip of your Cupid’s bow, the curve of your lip. “Not even if I pick dare?“

You swallowed, hard.

You weren’t sure what this was. Not anymore. Because it didn’t feel like the arguments you usually had, the poking and pushing and pulling at each other until something snapped and the yelling started. In fact, you were sure this was the quietest you’d ever been around Steve Harrington.

Except for the thundering of your heart. It beat against your ribs, a drumming sound that you wondered if Steve would hear. It made your body vibrate, it made your chest feel fit to burst and you couldn’t help but part your lips under his stare, sucking in a breath that you suddenly so desperately needed.

Steve did the same, an instinctual response to watching you, his tongue wetting at his bottom lip, his eyes heavy and hooded. You didn’t remember taking another step towards him, but you don’t recall Steve moving either. It was all a slow lean, a curl into each other’s bodies, slower and softer than the first time.

Your hand was on his chest again, fingers splayed across his shirt rather than fisting it in your palm and god, you still really weren’t sure if it was to encourage him closer or shove him away.

But then his touch was at your waist and the sun finally dipped below the windows and the hall went dark. The shadows sparkled as you got used to the lack of light, Steve’s face a pretty palette of lilacs and navy, the rosy tint of his lips looking deeper and closer to you than ever.

The slide of your nose against his, stuttering and a little clumsy, unsure and nervous. Everything in your body was screaming at you. To push him away, to pull him towards you, to chew him out, to devour him.

Steve fucking Harrington made you want to yell, to fight, to roll your eyes and rant for an hour and a half. Steve fucking Harrington made you want to be slammed against a wall, pushed down onto a bed, lips on your neck and kisses that were all tongue and teeth.

His breath huffed against your cheek, slow and careful like he was still deciding what to do too. Steve was cherry cola and the heat of an argument, cedar and spice and bad decisions. Steve was a hot touch on your waist, a white hot burn through your shirt and a tight grip that was sending you to another level of frustration.

Then light flooded the gym, a bright burst of it coming from the main doors as the very last of the low setting sun leaked through as they slammed open.

The noise of them hitting the wall made you both jump, the angry squeak of the hinges bringing both back to the harsh reality of who you were about to kiss. You stumbled and Steve tripped, falling backwards onto the crash mats with a soft “fuck” as you turned to see Nancy and Robin standing in the doorway.

No one spoke, not for a few seconds and the quiet was painful.

But then Nancy cleared her throat, a smirk on her face that she covered with her hand and Robin grinned.

“Um, all the kids have been found,” she told you both, glee in her voice that she couldn’t cover and god, you were burning with a new kind of heat. “We’re doing story time.”

“And uh, one of you needs to take over,” Nancy explained, still smothering a laugh under what she thought was a serious expression. “Billy started talking about demogorgons and made Will cry, so…”

“Again?” Steve muttered from his seat on the mat. “I thought Eddie told him that it was all made up.”

You didn’t dare look down at him, your body still overly aware of his, his shoulder brushing against your thigh as he moved and when he clambered to his feet, you were spurned into motion, your legs carrying you quickly across the gym.

Your shoes squeaked on the floor and your heart was still racing, leaving you feeling like a hormonal teenager who was out of control and unable to handle some stupid boy being too close. Grabbing Robin’s hand, you mumbled some sort of thanks to Nancy and then made up a lie about feeling sick, and how you needed to go back to your cabin now.

Looking at your flushed skin and glassy eyes, no one could really argue with that. So you left Steve with the responsibility of the nightly campfire story and ignored Robin’s husky laughter as you pulled her through the trees and the dark until you got back to your shared bunk.

You flew into the cabin like a bat out of hell, doing everything in your power to get away from the boy as quickly as you could. Robin was close behind you, still cackling before she slammed the door, just as you dumped yourself onto your bed, groaning.

The other girl braced herself, back against the wood, facial expression scandalised as she stared at you wide eyed and through messy bangs.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but it looked like you and Harrington were about to rail each other on those fucking crash mats.”

You spluttered, the sound of protest getting caught in your throat as you tried to sit up, pushing yourself onto your elbows so you could glare at Robin, trying your best to look appalled.

“What?!” You choked out, and you knew you were beetroot, you could feel the heat in your cheeks, the flush over your chest. “No we weren’t!”

“You know,” Robin mused, head tilted to the side as she looked at you, “your summer could be a lot more fun if you just admitted you don’t hate him as much as you claim to.”

Another noise came from your throat in response, strangled and panicked as you paced the cabin, old floorboards creaking under your feet.

“I do hate him,” you insisted, turning your back to the girl to fuss over a pile of clothes you’d left on your dresser after laundry day. You wondered if she’d be able to see the lie on your face, if she could hear it in your voice. “Harrington is a pain in my ass, he has been since-”

“Seventh grade, yeah, yeah,” Robin interrupted, her voice bored and impatient, and she waved a dismissive hand at you. “Science fair, vegetables, Steve and mentos and his dad, I know.”

You glared at her, clothes abandoned, clean shorts dropping to the floor, your arms now crossed. You hated that you were pouting.

“He didn’t look like he was causing you too much grief when you had him up against the gym wall the other week…”

“That was a dare!”

“And now - in the gym again actually - do you have some sort of kink?”

“Robin…” you were groaning, pleading.

“Is it a competitive thing? It gets you both going?”

“Nothing happened! We were- we were arguing!”

The other girl smirked, eyebrows raised and her back still pushed against the doorway. “Yeah, but babe, that’s foreplay for you.”

“I hate you,” you lied and there was no heat behind it, in fact, it only made your friend grin wider.

“As much as Steve?” She asked, voice sweet. “Should I light some candles? Pop a mint?”

“You’re a dick,” your voice was mulish but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“You’re in denial,” Robin shot back, still sounding far too happy about the discussion. “Don’t you think all that pent up frustration could be easily solved?”

You rolled your eyes, knowing where this was going. The girl was moving towards you, eyebrows wiggling as she ran her hands over her chest in what you assumed was supposed to be a suggestive manner.

“Y’know, there’s other things your mouths could do instead of arguing.”

You pretended to gag, face scrunched up at the thought of it and you went back to sorting through your laundry. “You sound like Murray.”

“I knew he was a sensible man,” she told you and you scoffed because you’d watched Murray Bauman light a firework with the end of Billy’s cigarette last summer.

“But seriously, you’ve got to be attracted to him, right?”

“Murray?” You asked, all faux innocence, “he’s a bit old, no? Hopper, however-”

“You’re disgusting,” Robin snorted, grabbing at the pile of clothes you were hoarding, taking some of her own shirts to fold as she levelled you with a stare. “And you’re not fooling anyone. I’m very much gay - like, with a capital ‘G’ - and even I can say Steve is easy on the eyes.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” you tutted, “his head will get bigger.”

“Oh absolutely not.”

You fell into an easy silence then, clothes folded and sorted on your beds and you were surprised when Robin - perpetually messy - even went as far as to make her bed from that morning.

It gave you too much time to think. About how the boy had been almost nice to you at some points this summer, helping you when you fell, teasing instead of scathing, always too close, always nearby. It made you notice him too much, made you far too aware of him.

Like how his skin tanned so easily, new freckles every other day, how blue and yellow looked good on him, how when he got too close you noticed he had some green in his eyes. You knew he liked a smoothie for breakfast, he turned softer and quieter when speaking to Will, he encouraged Max to run faster, jump higher, swim deeper, that it was okay to be a little scared sometimes.

You stopped, a choked breath of complete indignation leaving your lips and dropped the pyjamas you’d been folding and marched to the door.

“Uh, where are you going?”

“To tell fucking Harrington that I know his game,” you seethed, “and that it’s not fucking working.”

Robin looked startled. “What?!”

You flung the door open and cringed when it hit the wooden wall behind it but you barely paid it any mind. The woods were dark, the sky inky and it smelled like rain was coming.

“His game!” You urged, and god, you sounded a little manic, didn’t you? “He’s trying to get me to like him. And it’s not happening, he’s not winning!”

“Winning what?” Robin was almost yelling, confusion colouring her tone and she squinted at you.

“I don’t know!” You told her, mouth agape because Jesus Christ, you really didn’t know, but you’d be damned if you let the boy think he had some kind of one up on you.

“Babe, curfew is in like, ten minutes.”

One glance at the clock on the wall told you that Robin was right, but stubbornness won out over sensibility so you made a strangled sound and shrugged, closing the door behind you a little too loudly and you made your way over the carpet of pine needles, heading towards the other cabins.

—————

Eddie answered when you knocked, wearing an old, Metallica hoodie that was too big, his long curls pulled messily back into a bun and he grinned, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe.

“Now, I’m pretty certain you’re not here for me,” he told you, voice all light and full of a humour that you didn’t appreciate, “but there’s absolutely no fucking way you’re here for Harrington.”

You scowled.

“Is he in?”

Eddie cackled, pushing himself away from the door as he called out over his shoulder, looking thoroughly entertained.

“Hey, big boy, you’ve got a lady caller.”

This was starting to seem like an incredibly bad idea. Your irritation had waned slightly as you’d marched across the dark forest, the fresh air soothing your anger just a touch. But before you could change your mind, Steve appeared at the door, barefoot and shirtless, his hair messy and wearing nothing but a pair of low slung grey sweats.

For the love of fucking god.

He had a towel thrown over his shoulder, like he’d planned on taking a shower, but he seemed content to stay and talk to you, his body leaning lazy on the door frame like Eddie had.

“Princess,” Steve greeted, sounding bemused, “is this a booty call?”

From inside the cabin, Eddie snorted and you both made a point of ignoring him.

“Absolutely fucking not,” you told him, outraged at the idea of it. But you were warm again, tongue feeling clumsy and too thick in your mouth and you started to wondered when the fuck Steve Harrington made you feel nervous. “And that’s the reason I’m here, actually.”

Steve simply raised his brows, crossing his arms over his chest. He tilted his head, a small smile on his lips.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm, yeah,” you were stalling, trying to remember why you were actually standing outside with Steve at nine o’clock at night. His arms were entirely too distracting, the muscles there tensing and flexing as he moved. “I know what you're up to, Harrington.”

“You do?” Steve smirked, entirely entertained the way your gaze landed on his shoulders, his bare chest. “What am I up to, exactly?”

“This shit, that you keep pulling,” you told him, gesturing between the two of you. The space there crackled, it popped and buzzed with something unseen and electric, and you swore Steve felt it too. He had to, right? “This flirty, ‘lemme help you walk down the mountain’ crap.”

Steve was staring. And from inside, on his bed, Eddie was cackling again.

“Would you rather I’d left you to hobble down by yourself?” Steve asked, lips twisted to hide his amusement. Your eyes were flashing with annoyance, and you’d leant against the porch fence for support, back to the wood and hands curled around the ledge. “Let a mountain lion get you?”

“There aren’t any mountain lions in Indiana,” you replied scathingly.

“A bear then,” Steve shrugged, and Christ, he was grinning again, dimple and all. “Anyway, you think I’m flirting with you, princess?”

You stared, suddenly speechless.

“I’d have more luck getting Munson into bed with me than managing to have a pleasant conversation with you, sweetheart.”

But then Eddie was yelling from inside the cabin, a pillow hitting Steve’s back as he called out, “ready when you are, honey.”

Steve ignored him, eyes still on you. “If you think that I’m flirting with you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

He oozed too much confidence, sarcasm and charm.

It pissed you off.

“Well then stop it!” you growled, pushing yourself off of the porch fence and moving towards Steve. You stared up at him, stubborn, face tilted up to him, eyes defiant. You couldn’t help but push a finger into his bare chest. God, he was warm. “Stop doing-”

“Stop doing what? Huh?” Steve was smiling. Why was he smiling?

You stumbled over your breath, it hitched in your throat and honestly it only caused more anger to bubble in your chest. Was it anger? Annoyance? Frustration?

“Stop - stop, getting all close to me all the time, stop calling me princess and stop doing this thing where you’re clearly trying to distract me.”

Steve raised his brows, looking down at the small space between the two of you. He tilted his head, smirk dripping with amusement and you knew you could argue anymore. You’d moved to him, chests almost brushing, warmth radiating off of him to you, sharing the same air.

Fuck.

“Do I distract you?”

The facade dropped. The game, the challenge, the fight - whatever it was - it stopped. Genuine surprise coloured the boy's tone and he uncrossed his arms, leaving his chest open and more space between you both. He was so warm, you could feel it from his skin, like the sun lived in his chest and he swallowed the summer.

Steve looked shy, all of a sudden. Face flushed, eyes bright and wide and his lips dropped into a pretty ‘o’. Even in the dark, you could make out the pink of his cheeks, the tips of his ears and he was looking at you like an entirely different kind of challenge. A puzzle maybe, a new type of game.

“What?” you were panicking inside. That white hot flash of embarrassment ran up your spine, blooming over your chest until blood rushed loud in your ears. “What? No, I didn’t say that.”

“You definitely just said that.” There it was, that smile again.

“I didn’t,” you scoffed, eyes searching anywhere but his. You stared at the door behind him, groaning when Eddie waved from his bed, grin wider than Steve’s.

“You did,” Eddie added to the conversation, all soft smiles and messy curls. “I heard you.”

Suddenly you had had enough of boys.

“Oh for fuck sake.”

You stormed away from Steve with more swears mixing in with the night air, your frustration taken out on the stairs as you stomped back down them, trainers kicking up pine needles and fallen acorns as you made your way back to your own cabin, completely done with Steve fucking Harrington.

PART TWO

-----

Ko-Fi ♡

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve ar

4K notes · View notes

historicalbeauties · 14 days

Text

Amy Appelhans Gubser could see the Farallon Islands from her house on clear days, and would always joke with her husband that she could swim there.

5 years ago, the nurse and grandmother who lives in Pacifica started to work on this crazy idea. Gubser sought out open-water swimming mentors for guidance and even got resources through the Marathon Swimming Federation, yet things never lined up until this year.

On May 11, in 17 hours, 3 minutes, she finally made her vision come true and completed the 29.6-mile swim from the Golden Gate Bridge to the Farallon Islands.

Gubser has been around the ocean since she was 10 years old. She became an ocean lifeguard in high school and college, and also swam at the University of Michigan, yet after graduation didn’t get back into the water for 24 years.

When Gubser finally did return, she was doing more open-water swimming, for instance, swims across Lake Tahoe and Monterey Bay. The woman would always see the Farallon Islands from her house and would dream about one day swimming there.

The outbound route to the Farallon Islands is known for going against the currents, and only 5 people had previously completed the trek in the inbound direction, from the Farallons to the Golden Gate. According to the Marathon Swimmers Foundation, Gubser is the only one to complete that specific route without a wetsuit. Before her, two men successfully completed the swim in 2014, and there were also 3 recorded failures between 2012 and 2015.

The location is also known for white sharks. “The elephant in the room is white sharks, and they were in the back of my mind at all times during the swim. We didn’t take the shark thing lightly – I had a savvy crew that kept watch for them from a boat and kayak. They were ready to jump into the water to help me if I needed, but we had no shark sightings the whole time,” said Gubser. Fortunately, during the journey, she encountered several seals yet no sharks.

Another obstacle was the water temperature. She had trained to swim in cold water, but the water got as cold as 46 degrees Fahrenheit that day and it was something the woman didn’t expect and wasn’t ready for. A wetsuit probably would have helped here, but no matter the warmth and added buoyancy, she wasn’t wearing it.

“Wetsuits are a great piece of equipment, especially for people that are starting out in open water. But I follow the Marathon Swim Federation rules and the open water swim world rules that, for the last 150 years, have been the same. Which is a swimsuit, a cap, some form of goggles, earplugs and a nose clip,” explained Gubser. “When you wear a wetsuit your skin rubs against the material, and the last thing that I really wanted was for my skin to bleed near a shark island.”

The 55-year-old grandmother of two with a third on the way was very happy about her accomplishment when, no matter all the challenges, including intense fog in the Pacific Ocean all along the way, she finally reached the Farallon Islands at around 8:30 p.m. that night.

“For 17 hours, I had no idea where I was, what was going on. I had a thought bubble around me that only allowed us to see 100 meters in any direction. I went into a meditative state. There were some 30-minute time intervals that passed very quickly. Others seemed like they were 300 hours,” she explained.

“My whole family is so relieved, because I have been talking about this thing for five years, and my husband will be the first to tell you he’s just grateful it’s done,” shared Gubser. “I hope this story inspires somebody to not be challenged by a number [like] their age or their weight. I mean, all of my body got me across that. That’s pretty impressive.”

#athlete #wow #swimming

145 notes · View notes

thewulf · 1 year

Text

Wild Child || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: The four times Jake catches you in precarious situation plus the one time you catch him in one.

A/N: A request from a friend.: I’m sooooo sorry if your name is Heidi (You’ll see why). Really unedited but I wanted to get you guys something out. Please enjoy!

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 6,200+

The First Incident

A wild child is how your family always described you. You liked ‘free spirit’ better. Wild child made you sound unhinged. You didn’t like to consider yourself unhinged per say but you couldn’t stand to be tied down to anything. One minute you were a white-water rafting instructor at the Grand Canyon, the next you’re teaching people how to paraglide in the Alps. You craved adventure. Loved it more than anything in the world.

The thought of a corporate job holding you down made you gag, literally. You knew this lifestyle wasn’t maintainable per say but you just couldn’t seem to give a damn. You let the wind blow you to your next opportunity. That’s how you ended up in San Diego as a water sports instructor. You’d been working as a ski school coach in Colorado when you got word help was needed on the West Coast. You approached the guy who needed help and the rest was history. You were on a plane to San Diego the next day with a job running the little shack on the beach.

You loved it. It might’ve been your favorite job to date. You got to hang out in the sun all day and rent Jet Ski’s, paddle boards and kayak’s to people. Your favorite days were the ones you got to do jet ski tours on. You’d spend endless hours on the open ocean having the time of your life. Your least favorite days were the ones when you had to do maintenance on all the equipment. Usually, Doug or Jim your coworkers would take on changing the oil out on the jet ski’s but naturally they were both off when one needed to be done.

It didn’t take long before you found yourself in a less than ideal situation. You’d forgotten to put the oil cap back on before cranking the engine on. Well, the entire contents of oil you just dumped in the chamber was now all over your face and clothing, the engine spitting it back at you.

“Fuck!” You cried jumping back away from the machine. Ripping off the safety glasses you used your hands and clothing to try and get the oil off your face. Without much success you paused trying to assess the situation.

You realized you had two options. Jump in the freezing ass Ocean or run into Penny’s place. Deciding on the latter option you pulled your shirt off leaving you in your bathing suit. Luckily, most of the oil was on your shirt avoiding the rest of your body.

It was only five so the bar had just opened, “Penny!” You called loudly for the woman as you walked into the Hard Deck.

“Y/N!” She called back before turning to you. When she did her face displayed every emotion. Her smiley face turned to shock as she took in your oily black appearance. Then it turned to confusion as she took in your entire appearance. You must’ve looked like a horror story walking into her bar. No shoes, no shirt and certainly a problem.

“The damn jet ski blew up on me. Marty’s cheap ass won’t upgrade them. It’s certainly nothing that I did!” Crossing your hands over your chest with a pout on your face making your way over to a bar stool you gave her an overly exasperated look.

The last and final emotion that crossed her face was with hilarity. She couldn’t stop laughing once she realized it was more than likely a self-inflicted casualty, “Did it now?”

Nodding your head, you gratefully accepted the rag from her. Beginning to wipe away some more of the oil from your face you heard some commotion from the front door.

“Penny!” A male voice you hadn’t recognized rang through the bar just as yours had seconds prior.

Her brows stitched together in confusion as she had just seen that same scene play out with you not a moment before, “Jake!” She replied, just the same as she had with you. Spinning around in the bar stool you were thankful the rag was covering your mouth because you were sure it would have dropped right then and there. The most devilishly handsome military man just walked through Penny’s doors, and you had your eyes set right on him.

He too, had his eyes set right on you but you had a sneaking suspicion it was from the engine oil that caked your face and upper body, “You have a little something here.” Jake pointed to his forehead giving you a cheeky smirk.

“Oh, thanks.” You rolled your eyes, “So helpful.” Dramatically you took the damp rag wiping your forehead free of motor oil, “Did I get it?” You quipped back.

He nodded smiling, enjoying how much of an attitude you already had with him. It made the game way more fun when they didn’t get off on the right foot, “You got it.” He nodded his head down, “Jake Seresin. Don’t think we’ve met.” The stupid cheeky grin never left his face. Only growing wider when he saw your irritated expression grow.

Quickly, you ran your hand along the other side of your face making sure to coat your hand in oil before accepting the handshake. His grin broke out into a full smile seeing your play. A low chuckle reverberated from his body as your hand coated his in oil, “Sorry, I thought you said I got it?” Giving him a wink, you snatched your hand back from his grip. Easy to do since they were both coated in the slippery liquid.

He tipped his head in your direction, “Fair play ma’am.”

“That’s all I do, Mr. Seresin.” Taking the rag, you fully wiped off your face. You knew your hair was coated but opted to throw it up in a bun until you’d be able to shower it off. Penny gave you a new clean one while she handed Jake a napkin after seeing the exchange between the two of you.

“Did you need something Jake?” Penny interrupted the two young adults who were seemingly very into each other. Penny could tell. She always could. It didn’t help that she hardly knew either of you. You’d just started at the shack two weeks ago, only occasionally crossing paths. You worked early and she worked late.

“I did.” He nodded looking back at you, “But for some odd reason, I can’t remember what that was.” He threw you a wink taking a seat next to you.

You wanted to roll your eyes, but something drew you into him. Like you wanted to know just a little bit more, “Cheesy.”

“She doesn’t like cheesy, noted.” Jake leaned back looking you over. He’d noticed you were just in your swimsuit, not really mad about it.

“Well, I didn’t say that did I?”

He took the beer Penny had poured from him, “Noted.”

The Second Incident

“No, no, no!” You yelled out while you running around the beach trying to collect the umbrellas that got pulled up by the rather strong gust of wind. You’d gotten three before the fourth got caught in another gust and took off.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You sighed before jogging along the water hoping to catch it before it went out into the ocean. You loved this job, but you didn’t love it that much to go swimming for it.

To your delight the blonde boy from the bar caught it before you did. Coming out of nowhere he grabbed the end of it before quickly closing it. After catching up to him you took the awkwardly large umbrella from his hands, “My hero! Thank you. Might’ve saved my job.”

He smiled back at you almost immediately, enthralled you were chatting with him so easily. It wasn’t that often he came across a woman that could hold her own with him. Natasha being one of the rare few. He had a feeling you were just like her with your quick remarks and witty comebacks, “You’re welcome…You never told me your name.” He frowned looking at you expectedly.

“I didn’t?”

He shook his head, “No ma’am.”

“Hmm.” You began to walk away knowing he’d follow right after you. You were oddly good at this game. Truth be told you hadn’t a clue where your confidence came from. Even with men as attractive as Jake you knew how to wind them up and get them to do your bidding. A unique skill not only reserved for the men. You mom always said you’d make for a great politician because you were a master at manipulating people to do what you needed them to do. She always made it sound cooler than it was. But you sure did use that skill to your advantage in these situations.

“Aren’t you going to tell me?” He caught up to you with ease. Your smaller frame and the gigantic umbrella slowed you down.

“Now, what’s the fun in that?” You gave him a wide grin already seeming to know how to reel him right into you.

He paused for a moment before making his way back to you, “I’ll go ask Penny.”

“Go for it. That’s cheating but it’s fine.” You knew military men had a weird thing with cheating so again, you used it against him.

“That’s not cheating!” He took the umbrella from you, tired of seeing you struggle with it while he knew he could carry it so easily.

“Thanks,” You smiled up at him before heading back to the shack. A nasty storm appeared to be rolling in that wasn’t on the radar that morning. You wouldn’t have set out the umbrellas had you known it would be coming in so quickly, “But it so is cheating!” You couldn’t drop it either.

“In what world?”

You shrugged, “Mine.”

“Fine.” He nodded his head placing the umbrella down in the shack, “What’s it going to take for me to get your name?”

Returning the smile while tapping your finger on your chin you answered him, “I don’t know yet Jake.”

Slumping over slightly he looked a tad defeated, “Well this is impossible.”

“Giving up already Mr. Seresin?” You challenged him. Another thing you knew military men loved, a good challenge.

Shaking his head vigorously he turned the frowned back into that charming smile you already loved, “No, didn’t say that did I?”

Shaking your head, you could only answer, “Fair play military boy.”

“Navy.” He corrected you. Not that you were wrong per say but you weren’t specific enough.

“Navy boy.” You nodded at him, as a touché, “What do you do for the Navy anyway?” You wanted the conversation to continue. Jake intrigued you. Not many people did. You’d come across all sorts of fascinating and downright boring people as you traversed the world. But few captured your attention longer than a few hours.

“If I answer, will you give me your name?”

Shrugging you answered, “Maybe.” You respected the little game he was playing. It was fun. Fun intrigued you. Fun kept you engaged with him.

“I’m a pilot.”

“Ohh, you get to fly fast planes?” He’d really got you now. Planes had always fascinated you. You loved adventure more than anything in the world, but planes always seemed to be off limits, especially fast ones.

“Something like that. We call them jets.”

You nodded along enthralled by the admission, “That’s really cool Jake.” It was a high compliment from you and Jake knew it. He knew he intrigued you as much as you intrigued him. You wouldn’t have tolerated his presence if you felt otherwise. Something he picked up on quickly, you spoke your mind and you weren’t afraid who heard. A rare quality he rarely saw in people.

“It is. I love it.” His smile softened for the first time around you. You noticed how the cheeky grin downturned ever so slightly into a more genuine smile. One you knew that likely didn’t come around often.

“Y/N. That’s my name.”

“Y/N.” He repeated back, “That’s beautiful.”

“You should tell that to my mother. My dad wanted to name me Heidi. She saved me from that childhood torture. Bless that woman.” Smiling you leaned back against the shack.

Jake smiled a bit wider taking in the small bits of information you were willing to share about yourself. He had a feeling you were a closed book masking being an open one. He understood, he was the same way. An extroverted persona on the outside and a hidden softer side that only came out around people that wee trusted. There was nothing wrong with this per say it was just exhausting. Having to put a wall up 24/7 wasn’t something you particularly enjoyed.

“Maybe one day I’ll get the chance to Y/N.”

You giggled. A sound you hadn’t heard in so long. The last time you felt this stupidly giddy from a boy’s comment was ages ago, back in college when you were tied down, “Maybe Mr. Seresin. Just maybe.”

The Third Incident

The day was brutal. The sun beamed down at you all morning and afternoon. You could hardly sit in the shade because almost all of your equipment was rented out. It wasn’t a bad thing. You were raking in tips. But it made for a long and exhausting day. That paired with no air conditioning made you feel like you were starting to go a little crazy.

So, when you turned over the key in your vehicle and it didn’t start you all but lost it. You let yourself yell once and shed a tear out of frustration before heading into Penny’s place. Lucky for you she opened up a bit earlier on the weekends to attract more customers from the beach who wanted to day drink.

You spotted the woman quickly before making a beeline straight towards her, “Penny, please tell me your mechanic of a boyfriend is around.”

She frowned, “No, he’s out of town. What’s up?”

“Damn.” You sighed taking a seat at the nearly empty bar. You hadn’t seen Jake and his Navy buddies sitting in the back as you made your way straight to the bar. But he saw you. He always noticed you. The simple chats started turning deeper as both of you tip toed around what you both wanted but neither wanted to admit, “This one’s going to cost me. Car won’t start. Hopefully it’s just the starter or the battery.”

Both of you were terribly afraid of commitment for one reason or another. But sometimes that spark that you find can’t be put out. The flame couldn’t be diminished. It needed to be explored. The spark was slowly growing into a flame and neither of you wanted to extinguish it but neither brave enough to let it grow. To let the flame, turn into a fire. For that meant commitment. And commitment was terrifying.

It made sense for Jake. He was always on the move. Always going from one base to the next. Early in his career he would try but it got too hard. It was hard to fall for someone and then have to move because he was reassigned to a new base. It was way easier being an asshole who was there for the hookup than commit to someone. But it was different now. He’d completed all his goals. Done what he wanted to accomplish as a pilot. If he ever wanted to be an admiral, he needed to clean up his act and excel as an instructor at Top Gun. Show Naval leadership he was meant to be a leader too.

It made sense for you too. You were in an amazing relationship throughout college. You’d met a boy early on in your freshman year and stayed with him through your senior year. He’d even proposed. But then he got sick. The sickness took him away from you. So, you ran. Your wild child was let out. You couldn’t be tied down again. You couldn’t go through that again.

“Oh, shoot. I’m sorry Y/N. How about a beer on the house?” She smiled as sweetly as she could. She knew how shitty the feeling was. Unreliable vehicles were the worst. Lucky for you it wasn’t a far walk home worst come to worst. The only downfall of the lifestyle was never having enough money. A tow was certainly out of budget. It needed to be fixed in the lot. You’d figure it out. You always did.

Sighing and lifting your head from the bar top you gave her a thumbs up, “Thanks Penny.”

Her eyes widened spotting the blonde pilot making his way over to you. Penny was many things, but she wasn’t dumb. She certainly wasn’t blind. She didn’t know Jake well, but she’d heard about him. Heard all the rumors of the fuck boy that he supposedly was. She’d yet to see it. Over the last few weeks, he’d had nothing but eyes for you.

Penny had also gotten to know you a whole hell of a lot better as you spent the last bit of your day here all too often now. There were usually hardly any customers and Penny lent the best conversation you’ve come across in San Diego. So, you started coming to the Hard Deck every day after work. She realized quickly that you were damn near oblivious to Jake’s feelings. Always flirting back but never agreeing with Penny about his intentions.

“Why the long face, sweetheart?” Jake had begun using those sweet terms of endearment a few days ago. Finally finding the courage to make his feelings a little more obviously known. But of course, you hadn’t a clue. It didn’t mean anything for you. Your way of deflecting, naturally.

“Jake, hey.” You straightened up a bit, “Car won’t start.”

He frowned, “That’s no good. Let me take a look.”

Your eyes peaked up in curiosity, “You know cars?”

“I know jets. How different can cars really be?”

Laughing you nodded, “I’m pretty sure they’re really different actually.”

“You have no faith in me darling.”

“Oh, have at it. Just don’t break it any further.” You smiled taking a sip of the beer. He stood for the stool waiting for you.

Giving him a quizzical look, he continued, “After you.”

“You were being serious?” You set the glass down. It wasn’t very often that people went out their way to help you. That was another problem with the nomadic lifestyle you’d become accustom too.

“As a heart attack. I’ve got some tools in my truck. I can figure it out.”

Hopping down from the stool you gave Penny a wave. She gave you a knowing head shake waving you off. Leading Jake to your car you popped the hood to give him a look.

“Can you turn it over?” He asked. Giving him a nod, you tried to start the engine only to be met with silence, “Just a dead battery. Let me go get my truck for a jump start.”

Another few moments and a jump start later you were met with a started vehicle. Jake parked the truck next to yours. Getting out you were too afraid to turn it off before driving to a car shop to swap out the battery.

“This time you’re my Knight in Shining Armour.” You gleamed up at him as he made his way to the driver’s side of your vehicle.

“I’m honored, really.”

“Thanks, fly boy. I gotta go get a new battery now.”

“Fly boy?” He smirked.

“Mhmm, heard you and your friends talking the other day. The girl said it and it stuck. I like it. Fly boy.”

He opened your car door, “Then you can call me fly boy. If you like it.”

“Didn’t know I needed your permission.” Again, you challenged him. You always seemed to challenge him. Making him second guess that smoothness that always seemed to work. Not on you though. You got the better of him all too often now.

The Fourth Incident

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You grumbled taking a seat in front of the knotted mess before you. You’d let the boys take the parasail up only for them to come back to you with a sheepish grin on their faces and a very tangled parasail before them.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Doug, usually your favorite co-worker replied seeing your very annoyed expression.

“It’s fine… just go help the customers. This is going to take me a while.” You let out a frustrated groan. At least it was a mindless task.

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded and quickly left, not wanting to get another earful from you.

“They certainly don’t make this job easy.” You sighed leaning back against the shack. You didn’t have a particular talent for untangling things, but you knew the boys certainly didn’t have the patience to even try. So here you were stuck with a loopy mess of ropes and cables.

“You always talk to yourself?” That now-familiar voice of the blonde pilot spoke out startling you from your focus.

Jumping slightly, you slapped his ankle, “You always stalk me?”

“I do not.” He scoffed sliding down the wall to sit down right next to you. He was close but neither of you made the effort to move farther apart. Not even a little. He let his thigh rest against your bare one. It was a hot one, so you were without shorts, just bathing suit bottoms. He was testing your boundaries and you were more than happy to welcome him right on in.

“I didn’t say I was complaining about it.” You quipped back.

You earned a hearty laugh from him. A sound you’d learned to cherish over the blossoming friendship you wished would turn something more, “You never cease to surprise me Y/N.”

“Hopefully that’s a good thing.” You grinned up at him momentarily forgetting about the mess laid before you.

“It’s a great thing.” He answered quickly not wanting to place doubt into your head, “You’re incredible. You know that right?”

Heart stuttering you snapped your head back up to him. What was he saying? What was he trying to imply? Was he trying to get you all sorts of flustered because it was certainly working. You’d always been awkward when receiving compliments so when Jake threw that one at you it made you want to disappear right then and there.

“If you think so.” You nodded your head gingerly making sure to focus your attention on the rope and not the gazing eyes of the man you’ve been crushing on a little too hard.

He took your hand in his, “I know so. You’re beyond fascinating. Every time I get to know a little bit more about you, I’m infinitely more intrigued by you. Rooster called me out on it, said I never seemed to shut up about you.” He admitted. He wasn’t all too sure why he was telling you this. It was easy with you. He wanted to tell you things. Things he’d never dream of sharing with a girl before. But with you it felt so natural. So effortless.

It wasn’t often somebody could make you blush, but Jake was doing an exquisite job of it. A fiery blaze crested up your neck settling on your cheeks. Thankful it was warm out you could just blame it on the sun, “Rooster?” You questioned. You’d yet to meet any of his friends but that didn’t seem like a terribly common name.

“Bradley. The one with the stash. It’s a call sign. We all have one.” He smiled knowing just how odd it sounded when he said it out loud.

“What’s yours?” You asked wanting the conversation to go on. He too intrigued you. You seemed to get lost in conversation whenever you ran into him. It too felt natural with him. Like two puzzle pieces just waiting to be linked together.

“Hangman.”

You smiled wondering where in the hell that could’ve come from, “That’s an interesting call sign.”

“You think?” His eyes stitched together in curiosity.

“For sure. I wonder what mine would be? I’m not cool enough though. I’d never make it.” You admitted to him looking away afraid you’ve overstepped.

He studied you up and down as if trying to come up with one on the spot. Not a second later he responded with one, almost as if he’d thought it through before, “I’d call you Bird.”

“Bird?” You grinned curious as to why.

“You’re a free spirit. Like a bird. Floating through the air making it look effortless even though you’re working harder than ever. You have a certain ease to you that makes you so free.” He paused collecting his thoughts, “And you’d make it just fine. You’re more levelheaded than half the guys I train on a regular basis.”

“Oh, that’s frightening Jake. I’m not even that levelheaded!” You laughed feeling a bit concerned over the state of who was employed by the Navy.

“I know.” He winked at you letting his leg full press into yours. The closeness let goosebumps ripple down your legs sending a shiver over your body. It frightened you how easily he affected you both mentally and clearly physically, “It’s terrifying who they let fly those things huh?” He laughed taking a cable in hand beginning to help you.

“Suppose you have to be some level of crazy, eh?” You giggled picking up another cord after untangling the first.

“You bet sweetheart.” He turned his body more towards you, pressing his thigh further into yours. You were sure you were about to explode from the contact. Hopefully it didn’t look like it. You had to play this cool. You’ve been doing so damn good over the last few weeks. But he was making it hard, very hard, “So.” He continued before pausing again giving you a look as he picked up another tangled cable.

“So.” You responded by looking back at him. He was giving you a look you had yet to see from him just yet. Almost nervous?

“Where are you off to next? Doesn’t seem like you stay in one place for too long.”

You shrugged, “I’ll be honest. I don’t have a clue. I like it here though. Usually something just falls into my lap taking me onto the next thing…” You smiled reminiscing through some memories before continuing, “But like I said. I like it here. The weather is amazing, and the people are even better.”

You really hadn’t thought about moving on. Not yet at least. It felt like you’d finally gotten into a rhythm here. Normally that’d terrify you. But it felt so damn right here. Like something was begging you to stay. That something might have been sitting there in front of you. Even if you’ve only been here a few months and known him less than that it still felt right. If there was one thing you always did was trust your gut and it was telling you to stay. Screaming at you to stay. It was a foreign feeling for you, but you welcomed it. The nomadic lifestyle was utterly exhausting and somewhat lonely. You were ready for change as you approached your thirtieth year.

He cracked another smile at your last statement, “Yeah? Even better than the Swiss?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded looking up to him again. You could’ve melted right then in there if humans could. The look he was giving you could make a strong man weak, “Way better than the Swiss. Much cuter too.” You chimed in making sure he knew you were talking about him.

“High praise.” He smirked leaning his whole body just a bit closer. You’d usually protest as it was so fucking hot out but this was a dream for you. Jake was practically on top of you this time. It must have looked funny from a distance. Two sweaty young people lost in each other’s eyes almost on top of each other on the beach.

“It’s only the truth.” Your face was so close to his. God you’d give anything to just kiss him. But you wouldn’t dream of making that move. That’s far too bold even for you. And what if he didn’t want it? You’d never be able to live down that kind of embarrassment.

“Y/N?” He asked.

“Yeah?”

“I’m planning on staying for a little while too. I’m tired of jumping base to base. I just want to stay somewhere for a while you know?”

“It’s tiring.” You agreed with him, “I get it.”

“Would you stay here?”

You nodded your head vigorously, “I would. For the right reasons.”

Licking his lips while looking at yours he mimicked your head nod, “Good to know.”

The Fifth Incident

Standing waist deep in the ocean you wanted to be annoyed but the man standing in front of you was making that very difficult to do so. His cute little grin and snickers only made you laugh along with him, “Which one’s the gas again?” Jake asked leaning back on the jet ski you were trying to get him to take out.

“Right hand is the throttle, for the fourth time Mr. Seresin.” Playfully rolling your eyes you walked around the jet ski to do the final checks ensuring it was up to snuff before he took it out on the ocean.

Grinning from ear to ear he knew he had you. He had you wrapped around his pinky finger. Not that he was any different. You had him whipped and you weren’t even dating yet. Instead, the two of you were dancing around deeper emotions every time you saw one another. And the two of you sure did see each other as often as possible. After he helped you untangle the mess that was the parasail the two of you made it a point to see each other every day. He’d come find you while you were wrapping up work or you’d meet him at the Hard Deck.

You’d even gone so far as to meet a few of his Navy friends, at his request. Being far too nervous and not having a clue what the relationship was with the blonde pilot you were nervous to meet them. He wouldn’t take no for an answer though, bringing them to you instead.

As unshy as you were with your opinions it was becoming harder and harder to have the ‘what are we?’ conversation with him. You were having far too much fun in this stage that you didn’t want to ruin it. You started to have legitimate feelings for the flighty boy. It terrified you a bit. The last time you allowed yourself to feel things it ended horribly.

But even you had to admit you were exhausted of running. Running from feeling things. Afraid to commit to somebody. Afraid to tie yourself down.

“Thank you, Miss Y/L/N.,” Wiggling his eyebrows he leaned over towards you as you finished up the pre-op checklist.

“You’re welcome, Hangman.” This time you were smirking, loving to throw him off his game whenever you could. Initially refusing to use the call sign you decided to only throw it out there when you felt like you needed to one up him.

Eyes raised in curiosity he broke out into a grin seeing your expression. He’d never felt like this before. Felt so effortlessly comfortable around somebody. Like he knew you’d never judge him for a thing. You’d be there for him no questions asked. The two of you just clicking like nothing he’d ever experienced in his lifetime. He had to admit it terrified him a bit. But he was also excited. To try something new. To dive into a relationship with you headfirst. So long as that’s what you wanted. That’s why he was playing it so cool. He knew how much of a flight risk you were if he moved to fast. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you before he even had the chance to try it out. So, he decided to let you get comfortable and hopefully make a move. If you were too afraid to do so he’d do it eventually. He had nothing but time with you though. So, he wasn’t going to rush it. Terrified to mess it up before it started.

“So how long do I get out there darling?” He was testing your boundaries now. Wanting to see how you’d react.

Your heart rapidly picked up pace hearing that term of endearment escape his lips knowing that you could really get used to hearing it, “Thirty minutes. Then I have paying customers booked. So don’t be late.” You eyed him making sure he got your message loud and clear. He’d been begging you to go on one, but you’ve quite literally been booked out. Busy season was mad. But you had a customer cancel on you last minute which gave Jake the opportunity.

“Got it. See you soon pretty.” He shot you a wink before speeding off. Making sure to splash you with the throttle. Flipping him off you rung your hair out as you walked out of the ocean.

You’d only noticed he’d been gone for a little too long when the next clients walked up. You searched the ocean spotting Jake drifting a little bit further out than he should’ve been. Hopping on the reserved Jet Ski for staff you took off in his direction.

“What the hell Jake? I said thirty minutes.” You frowned at him pulling up beside his weirdly quiet one.

“I would’ve darling but well, it died on me.”

“Hop on.” You sighed annoyed the stupid thing gave out on you. It always reminded you of how cheap the dude who ran this place was.

You hooked the tow line up to it, getting good at it now, before towing everything in, “Looks like you caught me at a bad time.” You felt him chuckle as he pressed his chest into your back. Taking full advantage of being the passenger. You were thankful you couldn’t see his shirtless chest, that’d surely send you over the edge now.

“At least it’s you this time.” You laughed along with him. You felt as his arms tightened around your waist. Pulling him all that much closer to you.

Much to your chagrin you reached the beach before you knew it. Jake waited around as you got the family off on their adventure. Approaching him with a grin on your face you sat next to him at the picnic table by the shack, “Have fun at least?” You asked.

“Absolutely. Any time I get to spend with you is a good time.”

Pushing his side lightly you hid your gaze away from him, “Cheesy.”

“Only for you.” He snaked his arm around your waist. Not forcing you to look up to him but letting you know he had you.

Another goofy grin graced your features. He always knew what to say, “You’re sweet to me Jake.”

He nodded, “Because I like you. A lot. You know that right?” He admitted straight out. He let you go at your own pace, but he wanted you to know now. He knew. He adored you. He’d never felt this type of way with anybody before you. He thought he had but he realized he hadn’t. This was something special.

“You do?” Confusion then joy broke out from your face

“I do.” His smile turned up even further seeing the recognition cross your face. Had you really not known? Or were you in your own head like he had been so many times before?

“Like more than friends like?” You asked to confirm.

“Way more than friends.”

“Oh, wow.” You turned away heart racing. Sure, your face was as bright as a cherry tomato it was now or never. He’d laid it all out on the line for you. You could do it.

“Hopefully that’s a good wow.” Smirking he leaned a little closer to you.

It felt like your heart stopped for a moment, “It’s a very good wow.”

“Yeah? Then you’ll let me take you on a date?” Jake didn’t often look nervous, but he looked terrified now. He hadn’t expected this. Not even in the slightest. But he’d roll with it.

“You’d want to?” You returned your eyes back to his.

“Oh darling, I’d love to.” He reassured you taking your hand in his.

“Then I say yes.”

“Tomorrow?”

“You that excited?” You teased him.

“Sweetheart, I’m more than excited. Whatever that is.” Tossing you a wink he stood from his seat, “I’ll pick you up at six. Can’t wait to see you pretty.”

976 notes · View notes

unsponsoreduk · 8 months

Text

Social Media Saturday 21 October 2023

Welcome to Unsponsored and Social Media Saturday 21 October 2023. Social Media Saturday 23 October 2023 Enjoy! Continue reading Untitled

View On WordPress

0 notes

the-boy-meets-evil · 2 months

Text

once upon a summer | bsk

summary: Every summer kind of goes the same. The population of your usually sleepy beach town doubles and you bust your ass to make enough money to last through the slow season. But a new face blows into town like a whirlwind and he’s determined to catch your eye. Only one problem: he’s here for vacation and you’re married to this town.

pairing: seungkwan x fem!reader genre: 90s!au, summer love | fluff and some angst rating: sfw but minors still don't belong here word count: 8.6k tags/warnings: none really, some swearing, mentions of food, there's a tiny bit of angst

a/n: thank you so much to @beomcoups and @mingsolo for hosting the Now That's 90s collab! be sure to check out the other amazing fics 💕 also thank you to @wonwussy @cheolism @onlymingyus and @wooahaeproductions for helping me brainstorm when i got stuck writing seungkwan.

It’s the same every year, without fail. The weather starts to get warmer, summer is around the corner, and your sleepy little beach town transforms. No longer sleepy, now bustling with life and tourists. Although you groan at how busy the roads get or how difficult it is to run errands or even how hard it is to find a place to go out to eat, you’re also thankful. The influx of tourists guarantees that your family will be able to make ends meet for another year. Sure, there are people that visit during the off months. When it’s too cold to go into the water or even to sit outside and enjoy a meal, at least to most of the people who visit. When you have to wear pants and a jacket to walk along the sands of the beach, careful not to get any part of you wet. But, the bulk of tourists visit between late May and mid September, like clockwork.

You’re just as married to this little town as your parents are. Chipping in at their restaurant when you can, but mostly running a beach rental company with your brother. It lets you be outside a lot more, running boat tours to look at dolphins or explore the tiny little islands off the coast. Or renting out jet skis for people to run around on. Sometimes, when you can’t pawn it off on someone else, you also lead the kayak tours through the shallows between the outcroppings of seagrass. It’s not that you mind those tours or even the workout of kayaking. No, it’s just that people have a tendency to overestimate their abilities and either end up whining or toppling their kayaks over. You’re keen to avoid that whenever possible. When the ocean is calm enough, you’ll also let people rent boats to go out wakeboarding. Those are some of your favorites, when you get to drive because none of the tourists has a boat license. Or, more realistically, nobody wants to deal with it when they’re on vacation. And there’s nothing stopping you from turning the boat a little too hard if someone is acting like an asshole. All you do is say you’re avoiding a wave or staying out of the path of another boat. You’re the local here, born and raised. How can they argue with that?

On the days when it’s a little slower at the shop, or the ocean is a little too wavy for some of the activities, you’ll drop in at your parents’ restaurant. You’re not often on the schedule, but there’s always plenty to help out with. Whether it’s filling in for someone that called out last minute or hopping behind the bar or just running food to tables. Your parents’ restaurant is one of the most popular in town. People wait for hours to eat there just because they don’t want to be the only ones left out. Of course, you also think the food’s amazing, though you’re a little biased.

Today is one of those perfectly calm days out on the water, so you know you won’t be able to swing by the restaurant. Not that the waves ever get that big here. It’s definitely not enough to surf outside of an incoming storm. But, you try to be careful with renting the equipment out all the same. Most of the boats are refurbished anyway, since new ones are so expensive.

“What’s on your schedule today?” your brother, Jamie, asks.

“Nothing so far. I’m just getting caught up on paperwork and renting out boogie boards and shit,” you answer. “Not that there’s any waves to use them on.”

“No duh,” he answers. “Think the kids just use it to float on.”

“Whatever floats their boat,” you shrug.

“Feel like running a private tour out to the islands for the day?” he asks.

You fix him with a look, assessing him. It feels like a setup because you love taking private tours. They usually bring a bunch of food and drinks and just kind of do their own thing on whatever island you take them to. Which leaves you free to read or just enjoy the sun. Sometimes, you’ll even fish or snorkel. It’s just, well, your brother loves those tours too because they’re easy. Something about his tone makes you suspicious.

“Why aren’t you doing it?” you finally ask.

“Got a kayak tour in an hour and they’ll be here any minute,” Jamie says. “And you hate the kayaks.”

“Gotta page Mike to make sure he’s back before you head out,” you say.

If you’re about to take a boat out and your brother has a kayak group in an hour, then someone is going to need to actually man the store. Since you set the schedule yourself, you know that Mike should be back in half an hour, tops. But, like all of you, he’s prone to tacking on a few extra minutes when the group is cool and he doesn’t have something scheduled back to back.

“Chillax, I already did that and Joshua is coming in a little earlier so he’ll be here before I take the kayaks out,” Jamie says.

“Joshua tries to get pretty girls to listen to him play guitar and you want him alone in the shop?” you wonder with a snort.

“That was one time,” Jamie defends, ever the loyal friend.

There’s a retort on the tip of your tongue about how he’s only been caught doing that one time when you notice a group of guys approaching. You immediately know why your brother passed the group off onto you. At least, if these are the dudes that booked the private boat tour. Shoobies. The worst kind of tourists because they don’t think they’re tourists. Because they only live a few hours’ drive away so really, it’s like they live here too. Because they have a house out here and no it’s not just a vacation house, this is home. This particular group saunters up looking like they just stepped out of some boating catalog. Before your brother can elbow you, you plaster on your best fake smile, the one reserved for times like this.

The guy in front seems to be the one taking charge. His bright button up shirt matches his shorts, like he probably got them in a set, and his slightly curly hair looks a little too styled for the beach. The sunglasses look expensive, too, which you never recommend for a boat trip, but it’s his money. Honestly, his whole outfit probably runs close to what you’re charging to take them out for the rest of the day. So, that’s his choice.

“Sup, we’re looking for Jamie,” another one says. He’s tall and classically handsome, like that kind of guy you see in a magazine. Someone that just knows he’s attractive. He’s even got his shirt open showing off his stomach and a lot of tan skin. You hate him immediately. And not in the way of like oh, he’s actually kind of sweet. No, he reminds you of an ex.

“That’s me,” your brother answers.

“I’m Mingyu, I called about the day trip,” he says.

“Lucky timing, we just had a group cancel before you called,” Jamie says. “And my sister here has an opening to take you out.”

The surprise is clear on the guy’s face as you introduce yourself and give your name. Like you can’t possibly be the one that’s going to drive the boat. Like a girl couldn’t possibly handle it. You’ve heard it all before, so you’re just bracing yourself. But, before he can say anything, the guy that seemed to be taking charge earlier speaks up.

“Thanks for taking us out,” he says.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Mingyu asks, clearly unable to fully resist. For the first time, you glance around to do a headcount. Seven. Your brother is sending you out with seven guys all by yourself.

“The boat or the party?” you ask.

“Either,” he answers like he’s actually doing something.

“I got my boating certification when I was 14,” you answer.

“And she started driving boats a few years before that,” Jamie adds.

“Someone had to drive for you to wakeboard,” you say easily to your brother.

Your brother smiles before looking back at the group. “She’s also got a really mean right hook and she’s not afraid to use it, so don’t be skeezy.”

It’s clear that several guys in the group are eyeing you appraisingly, wondering if you really could knock them out (spoiler: you absolutely could) or if you would even consider it (spoiler again: yes, you would). Nobody else seems to have something to say, so your brother carries on with payment and going over the rules. In the meantime, you double check that your bag has everything you need (pager, emergency kit, shoes, water, snacks, the lunch you packed, etc.) and grab your shirt. You’re in the process of tying it off when you catch one of them, the one that thanked you, watching you.

A few minutes later, when you’re walking over to the dock, it’s him that falls into step beside you. Casual. Not even saying anything. At least, not for a minute.

“I’m Seungkwan,” he finally says.

You greet him again, even though he already knows your name, and figure that might be it. It is, for a bit, at least, while you get everyone on the boat and situated. Tell them that they should probably save whatever food and drink they brought for once you stop because you’re going to drive a bit faster. They paid a little extra to go to a further island and since it’s a little later than you’d normally leave for that island, you try to even it out. Not that they’ve shown they deserve it, but there’s no harm in case they have deep pockets. Which you assume they do, based on their clothing and general attitudes.

Where you had your brother helping you out pushing off from the dock, you’re on your own on the other side. It’s fine, you do it on your own all the time, there are just a lot of eyes on you. Some of those eyes seem to be waiting for you to mess something up, too, but you’re not going to give them the satisfaction. You brush it off when one, you forgot his name already, offers to help and says that he helps on his dad’s boat all the time. You can tie a knot, though.

Once you’re tied off, you point out all the amenities on this little island, which aren’t much. There’s a little place to eat that also has a small bar, chairs to lounge on and umbrellas set up. There are also some picnic tables set a little back from the beach. You let them know that you’ll either be on the boat or sitting inside the little food shack if they need you. And you’ll be ready to head back whenever they are. Mingyu and most of the group take off immediately. Seungkwan lingers behind.

“Are you coming?” he asks.

“Coming where?” you ask back.

“To the beach with us,” he clarifies.

You blink in confusion. “No, I don’t usually hang around.”

“What do you do?” he wonders.

“Read, get a tan, go talk to the couple that runs that little food shack,” you say with a shrug.

“Do you know everyone here?” Seungkwan presses.

You sigh softly and turn to face him fully. “Mostly. At least all the ones that work in tourism. It’s a small town.”

“Seems busy now,” he notices, looking around.

“It’s summer. Most of the people here now don’t actually live here,” you inform him.

“What’s it like here in winter?” Seungkwan asks.

You regard him for a moment. “What are you trying to do?”

“I’m just trying to get to know you,” he says and, almost like he can’t help it, rolls his eyes. “Most people know how to make conversation.”

“But why? Like what do you want?” you press.

“Just to get to know you better, geez, what’s with the third degree? You’re cute, there’s nothing wrong with talking to me,” he says.

“As if,” you scoff. “I don’t date shoobies.”

His face is adorably confused and you mentally chide yourself for even thinking something about him is cute. “What’s a shoobie?”

“Exactly,” you say like that answers everything.

He opens his mouth, but closes it when your eyes dart to this side. Neither of you noticed another of his friends approaching. You think it’s the one that offered to help tie off the boat. “We wondered where you got off to.”

“Sup, Chan? We were just talking,” Seungkwan says to his friend.

“Mhmm,” the friend, Chan, apparently, responds. “Well, Mingyu wants to know if you have the wallets in your bag. He wants to get something to drink.”

“Oh, right, yeah. I’ve got them,” Seungkwan says.

You spend most of the day sitting at the bar of the food shack, despite saying you might read. Well, you alternate between sitting there and chatting with Vernon or helping him out behind the bar. His parents run all the services on this tiny island and you grew up together. Right down the street from each other, actually. He’s been one of your closest friends for as long as you can remember. And one thing you remember is the two of you have always helped out at the other’s family businesses. It’s just part of growing up in this tiny town. Everyone knows each other and takes a lot of pride in helping. Plus, you’ll never say this to Vernon, but you’re probably better behind the bar than he is. You’re surprised his parents have him here at all, but still welcome the distraction.

Your boat guests, as you’re calling them, know you’re here too. Mingyu made a slightly inappropriate comment the first time he strolled up to buy a drink and Seungkwan apologized for him profusely. Seungkwan seems like someone who actually cares about those around him, actively tries to make sure everyone is okay. It’s sweet, in a weird way, but still doesn’t change what you told him. The no shoobie rule is strict. As you’re considering telling the guys it’s time to call it a day, Chan wanders into the bar and says just that. There’s no rush, he insists, but they’re ready to head back whenever you are.

“Need a lift back to the mainland?” you ask Vernon just after Chan walks back to his group.

“No, I gotta help the ‘rents clean up here,” Vernon answers as his mother pops her head around the corner.

“Actually, you should head back,” she says to her son before turning to you. “As long as it’s not too much trouble?”

“No, there’s plenty of space on the boat,” you insist.

“Good, then you can go home and let the dog out,” she says.

“Okay,” Vernon says with a shrug. “I’ll just grab my stuff and meet you out on the dock.”

You give him a nod and head off to the boat. The guys are coming off the beach and fall into step just behind you on the way to the boat. It’s clear most of them have been drinking, yet they’re not as rowdy as you’re expecting. They’re still helpful with getting stuff loaded onto the boat and only two of them make comments that make you cringe.

“Do you own shoes?” one of them asks, gesturing towards your feet. The guy in question is especially slender, not skinny but lean. His dark hair is a little longer than you’re used to, currently tucked behind his ears.

“Yeah?” you say, except it comes out more like a question.

“You haven’t had any on since we first met you this morning,” he presses on.

“Minghao,” Seungkwan hisses.

“I’m more comfortable around the boat without them. It’s easier to not slip. I keep a pair in my bag, though,” you answer, unsure why you’re even bothering.

“Should we all take off our shoes, then?” Mingyu asks.

“Might help you not fall this time,” another one jokes.

“Oh, snap!” Chan, at least you think it’s Chan, calls out.

“I didn’t fall, Jeonghan, I just stumbled,” Mingyu defends.

“Let’s all keep our shoes on and just watch our step,” you instruct.

Vernon appears during all the craziness from your…well, you can’t really call paying customers idiots. But, there’s also nothing stopping you from calling them that in your head.

“You’re the guy from the bar right?” Seungkwan asks and Vernon startles a little before nodding.

“Yeah, my parents run the food shack and the bar and that little gift shop,” he answers.

“I offered to give him a ride back to the mainland so he could get back faster,” you fill in. “As long as you guys don’t mind.”

The guys all shrug. Seungkwan is the only one to speak up. “Good with us. Do you know each other well, then?”

“She’s my best friend,” Vernon answers without hesitation.

If Seungkwan has something to say to that, and it seems like he might, he keeps it to himself. Actually doesn’t say anything to you for the rest of the ride back to the mainland and doesn’t appear to say much to his friends either. You don’t even mean to notice, mostly engrossed in your conversation with Vernon as he stays with you by the steering wheel. The group, as a whole, seems like they’ve had a good day, all smiles and very few hints of developing sunburns.

You realize when you get them all off the boat and back onto land that they definitely had a good time. Mingyu tips you way more than he needs to and way on top of what you would normally expect even from a group like theirs.

“What’s your schedule like the rest of the week?” Mingyu asks.

“My personal schedule or the company’s schedule?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Not like that, we just liked having you driving the boat and we want to come back,” Mingyu says and you can’t deny it’d be nice to have the guaranteed money.

“Oh, let me go check the books if you’ve got a minute,” you say.

Mingyu just nods and follows you along to the shop. “I’m only in a few hours tomorrow morning, so I definitely can’t do that. Monday isn’t too busy and I don’t have anything I can’t move. Tuesday during the day, since it’s slow, I usually work over at my parents’ restaurant. The rest of the week is filling up, but nothing I couldn’t move if you wanted to have me with you. Otherwise, I can have someone else take you out.”

“No, no, you were really great and we want to keep going with you,” Mingyu quickly says. “How about, for now, we book for Monday? And Wednesday. Full day trips.”

“Where do you wanna go?” you ask.

“Uh, where do you recommend?”

That’s how this whole thing with this ridiculous group starts. You ask Mingyu what kinds of things they want to do, list each of the reachable islands, list off the routes you can take without stopping at a specific island, list all the boat related activities. He ends up booking a third day with you, too, because there’s just so much that they want to do and want to see. You’re thankful for guaranteed money with people you’ve at least already met. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t and all that.

You’re a little later leaving your parents' restaurant than you meant to be on Sunday evening. One of the other servers really needed to get cut first, though, so you let them go. Often, you were first to cut out, since you had your own full time job to contend with. But, knowing your schedule for the next day was going to be easy, you didn’t mind.

What you’re not prepared for, though, is one of the guys from the boat group sitting outside. Seungkwan.

He stands up from the bench he’s sitting on and walks over to you. “Busy schedule for you.”

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“We were walking by and I thought I noticed you. Mingyu said you mentioned working at your parents’ restaurant tonight,” Seungkwan says.

“So, you what? Waited for me? Kinda weird,” you observe.

“As if,” Seungkwan scoffs.

“You’re here, though,” you comment.

“I just figured you might need someone to walk you home since it’s dark,” Seungkwan says.

“Kinda weird since I barely know you,” you comment. “Why do you want to hang out with me so bad?”

“Not really sure right now,” he says.

You regard him for a moment and he shifts under your gaze. Without another word, you turn and walk a few steps, before looking over your shoulder. “I’m not going home. You’re welcome to walk with me, though.”

Seungkwan looks confused but hastens to fall into step with you anyway. It’s like he can’t really help but keep a running commentary up while you’re walking. There are so many thoughts that it’s hard to keep up, or even get a word in. It’s entertaining, all the same.

He pulls up short when you get to your destination and he realizes that it’s a houseparty. People and music spill out onto the lawn in a part of town that’s reserved for things like this.

“Aren’t you taking us out in the morning?” he asks.

“Mingyu didn’t want to meet until 10 because anything else was too early and it’s not that late yet,” you shrug. “You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to.”

“But, I can? If I do want?” he asks and you chuckle.

“Thought you wanted to get to know me,” you whisper into his ear. With that, you smile and walk into the house. It takes him a few seconds before he hurries after you.

Parties run a little differently here, in a town that depends so heavily on tourism. Sure, plenty of people will party until sunrise, anyway. Running off being young (mixed with a lot of coffee). You’ve done plenty of it yourself, too. But, the parties all start a little earlier for people like you that can’t always afford to go until the dawn of a new day, especially when you have to spend all of the next day on the water.

While you’re careful to mix your own drinks from the bottles laid out, Seungkwan doesn’t seem to have the same worries. You introduce him to Joshua, who also works with you, and he doesn’t even hesitate to fall into step. So much for wanting to get to know you. Maybe he did just want to know where the good parties were. Joshua even lets him use the house phone to invite some of his other friends.

Those friends do show up and somehow both stick out and blend right in. They’re new faces, brave enough to come to a party where they don’t really know anyone. And they’re undeniably attractive. All of them. It’s a bit annoying, really. As you watch from your position on the couch with Vernon, a group of girls that you’ve known for years, and never really liked, starts to fall all over Seungkwan and his friends. Rosie, the ring leader, looks over at you with a smug smile and returns her attention to Seungkwan. It’s the same as any other time. Her eyes get big, she leans in close to him, touches his arm. The shoobies always seem to fall for it.

You’re on your feet and joining the group a minute later.

“Ah, there she is,” Rosie coos. Seungkwan clears his throat and takes a step away from her. Rosie, always using the same tricks, just steps closer and links her arm through his.

“Oh we loved her,” Mingyu, the tall friend, states. He’s a little tipsy, mostly friendly.

“Yes, everyone seems to,” Rosie says, all false cheer. “Seems a little…dangerous to me. Letting someone so young take you out on the boat.”

“Only when you don’t know your way around a boat despite living next to the water your entire life,” you cut across. “Then, it’s best to keep both feet on land and do something safer, like working at an ice cream shop.”

“I didn’t get any complaints when some of them stopped by earlier. Shame I didn’t get to meet Seungkwan, though,” she says and bats her eyelashes.

You roll your eyes and hold your hand out to Seungkwan. “There’s someone I wanted you to meet, come on.”

“He’s fine here,” she says. You snort.

“Yeah, I can make my own choices, actually,” he says and extricates himself to take your hand.

“We’ll just be here,” she calls at your retreating backs.

“Thanks,” he says as soon as you’re out of earshot.

“No problem,” you answer.

“Did you really want to introduce me to someone?” he asks as you wind through the kitchen.

“No,” you answer and pluck a couple beers out of a cooler.

“Just wanted to get me alone?” he presses and you fix him with a look.

You don’t say anything else, just trust that he’s going to follow you outside, which he does. You plop down onto a bench by the fire and hold out a beer as he sits next to you.

“It was just a little busy in there,” you finally answer.

“You don’t like the people?” he asks.

To buy yourself a minute, you open the beer and take a sip. “I don’t mind crowds or whatever. I’ve just known all these people my entire life and some of them are annoying. It’s like we’re in some kind of competition that nobody ever told me about.”

“Like Rosie?” Seungkwan presses. Your lips press into a thin line and you look away as you take a sip. “I caught the diss.”

“Yeah, I usually dip when she’s around,” you admit.

“She doesn’t like you either?” Seungkwan asks.

“None of those girls do,” you laugh. Seungkwan looks like he’s expecting more. “When we were in high school, a bunch of us went out on the boats one weekend. I didn’t realize one of their boyfriends was trying to pick me up until he went in for the kiss. I obviously brushed him off, but…”

“Damage was done?” Seungkwan asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “Like I’d ever kiss him anyway, as if.”

“And that’s all? They’re not trippin’ over your success with your business?” Seungkwan asks, a mischievous glint in his eye over the question.

You chuckle. “I do okay for myself.”

“Okay? Joshua told me how well you pay him and also that he was shocked you managed to move around enough things to fit us in the way you did,” Seungkwan said.

“What do you want me to say? I could leave here. I could franchise and get out of this town, but I’m married to this life here,” you admit. “Plus, how could I ever get over missing out on meeting the people I charter?”

“It’s okay, you can admit you like me,” Seungkwan says.

“You’re very confident, has anyone ever told you that?” you wonder.

“All the time,” he answers.

“Cheers,” you say and he bumps his beer into yours.

That one party seems to be a bit of a turning point for you with Seungkwan and his friends. They’re all funny, if slightly hungover, the next day on the boat. Always make sure to include you in what they’re doing. It starts to feel more like friends than customers on that second boat trip. Against your better judgment, you also agree to see them outside of boating trips too.

Through that, you get to know each of them. It’s actually kind of nice, in a somewhat chaotic way. It’s a little overwhelming at first. Not that you mind being around new people. You usually thrive in groups of people. It’s what makes you so good at your job. It’s also really sweet to see how much they love each other, especially the way they love Seungkwan. Any one of them would do anything for him and it’s melting your usually guarded heart.

He hasn’t asked you out again since the party, at least not explicitly. But, he’s shown you in a million ways that he’s there. He’s brought you drinks and waited for you after another shift at the restaurant. He listens to what you say and the things you’re interested in. Like how there’s this beautiful art gallery almost an hour away that you’ve never been, but are dying to see. He’s touchy once he realizes that you’re okay with it. A hand on your arm, brushing along your hip, grazing your lower back.

It’s only been a week since the first time you met them and this unexpected group already feels like a safe space for you. That’s why you’d agreed to a late dinner with them after a long day. Turns out, dinner was more like small plates cooked by Mingyu in the house they were staying in.

“Why won’t you let Seungkwan take you to dinner?” Chan asks.

“I don’t date shoobies,” you repeat.

Chan gives you a confused look. “That’s what Kwan keeps saying, but I don’t know what that means. I don’t think he does either.”

“It’s a term for the tourists. Particularly the ones that come down in the summer from the nearby cities and think having a vacation house here means they actually live here,” you explain. You’re not sure why. There’s just something a little endearing about Chan. Kind of like a sibling.

“It’s just dinner,” Chan says with a shrug and takes another sip.

“Fine,” you relent.

“What?” Chan asks, nearly spitting his drink out. “Kwan!”

“Wait…” you start and then marvel at how quickly Seungkwan appears.

“She said she’d get dinner with you,” Chan says as he walks away.

“You agreed to go out with me through Chan?” Seungkwan questions.

“Okay, it’s not like all that,” you start.

“You do like me,” Seungkwan announces, triumphant.

“We’re not going out here. If I’m gonna go on a date with a shooby, it’s got to at least be in a different town,” you sigh.

“I can work with that,” Seungkwan agrees.

It’s nice to be able to sleep in a little and trust that everything is okay both with the shop and the tours. You’re just about to head out to work when your phone rings. You consider letting the answering machine get it before rushing into the kitchen. You think you probably just manage to pick it up off of the receiver before the last ring.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Oh good, I caught you,” Seungkwan says on the other end.

“Yeah, I was just headed out to work,” you say.

“Actually, about that. I know we said dinner, but I have a surprise for you today. It’s too good to pass up,” he says.

“Seungkwan, I have work,” you tell him.

“I spoke to your brother, actually. A couple of my friends agreed to help out at the shop and your brother has someone covering for you. So you’re free,” he shares.

“You can’t just unplan my day,” you say, but you know he can hear the smile.

“You deserve a break. Just say yes,” Seungkwan says.

You consider it for a second, switch the phone from one ear to another to think. There’s only one answer, really. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, okay. What should I wear?” you ask.

“Just something comfortable. We’ll be inside, so you don’t have to worry about the heat,” he says.

“I have to change because I was ready for work. Give me like ten minutes?” you ask.

“I’ll come pick you up,” he says.

It’s hard to get dressed for a date when you don’t know what you’re doing, but you try to just put the first thing on that you can find. That’s part of why you gave yourself such a short window to get ready. It forces you to focus without overthinking anything. Your mind is going into a little bit of overdrive wondering if going out with this man is actually a good idea. Not because you're worried something is going to happen. Weirdly, you actually feel very safe with him. It’s more because you do feel safe and comfortable and completely at ease. That’s not something that happens very often for you. It’s nerve wracking that it’s happening with someone only here for a getaway.

Thankfully, a knock on your front door interrupts your impending spiral and you hurry to answer it. Seungkwan stands on the other side in a nice pair of slacks and carefully tucked in shirt. As his eyes traveled over your own outfit, you worried that you were underdressed. Then, he smiled, told you that you looked beautiful, and handed you a bouquet of vibrant flowers. You invited him into your apartment just long enough to find a vase and fill it with water.

When Seungkwan leads you outside to the black town car, you pause for a second. This already feels fancier than any date of your life and it hasn’t even really started. Sensing your slight hesitation, he gives your hand a squeeze and holds the door open for you to slide in.

As soon as he’s in as well, you’re immediately thankful for him. It’s not like you to be nervous on a date. Not that you actually go on dates often, but it’s just being around people. And that part is easy. Has to be for your line of work. Dates are usually easy too, which makes you wonder why this date is so hard. Thankfully, Seungkwan carries the conversation for both of you. Or, at the very least, he keeps up a steady stream of questions and stories about himself. All you have to do is follow his lead.

Finally, curiosity gets the better of you. “Okay, where are you taking me?”

“You do understand wanting to surprise someone, right?” Seungkwan asks.

“We’ve just been in the car for awhile,” you start.

“Sick of me already?” Seungkwan jokes.

“And we’re not heading towards anything that I recognize for somewhere to eat or anything else date-like,” you say.

“You did tell me that you weren’t going on a date with me in your town,” he says.

“I did,” you agree.

“And we’re not going on a meal date,” he says, still maintaining the mystery.

“You’re so exhausting,” you complain.

“You’re the one who agreed to go on a date with me,” he points out.

“I did,” you concede.

“You must really like me,” he presses.

“As if,” you scoff in response.

The truth is that you’re not sure how you really feel about Seungkwan. You want to keep him at a safe distance. There are a lot of reasons that you have the rule that you don’t date tourists that come down to the beach during the summer. Part of it is that you don’t find any of them all that interesting. There’s often a sense of superiority over the people that are working for the summer. Or they just don’t see it as anything serious. Everyone loves to think of the fun, no strings attached summer flings.

Which brings you to the second, and real reason. No strings attached is fine. But it ignores that you’re real people, too, with real feelings that could get really hurt. It might just be fun for the person who breezes in and breezes back out on vacation. This town is your whole life. This is your livelihood. The last thing you need is to fall in love with some rich guy from the city that’s going to be leaving before you realize it. You don’t want to risk getting your heart broken. It doesn’t exactly explain why you’re breaking all your rules with Seungkwan, though.

When the car pulls to a stop and you look around, your breath catches. As kind as Seungkwan is, you still can’t believe that he brought you here. Once, in a passing conversation, you mentioned an art gallery that you’d been dying to go to. It’s just that life got in the way or it felt too far away or nobody really wanted to go with you. It seems impossible that he would have been listening closely enough to remember you mentioning it.

“Seungkwan,” you whisper out.

“I thought what better time than now to check off some things you want to do,” he says, trying to gauge your face. “Is that…did I do okay?”

“It’s so thoughtful, thank you,” you say earnestly.

“Let’s go, then,” he says and helps you out of the car.

The whole experience is a little surreal. Someone is waiting at the door and lets you in. Seungkwan doesn’t even stop to pay an entry fee, if there is one, before leading you off to the first installation. Just as you want to ask about it, you catch sight of the piece that he’s leading you to and get completely lost. Yes, this really is the perfect date.

Seungkwan is also the perfect person to have with you. For all the times he can’t seem to stop talking, he’s surprisingly soft spoken during your time at the gallery. He keeps in constant contact with you: a hand on the back, carefully grabbing your hand to lead you to a new area, an arm around your waist with his thumb tracing patterns into your hip. His body pressed into yours is both immediately comforting and entirely terrifying. How has this man waltzed into your life and pulled all of your normal walls down?

You were worried that you might feel out of your element going to a gallery with someone like Seungkwan. He’s clearly got money and loves art. As much as you also love it, you don’t exactly know very much. Instead, Seungkwan remains by your side and shares his insights about the different pieces while asking for your thoughts, too. Nothing about it feels like you’re out of place. In fact, you feel like you’re exactly where you belong.

“Can I ask you something?” you ask suddenly.

“Anything,” he answers.

“Why’s it so quiet in here? I know it’s during the day, but…” you start while looking around.

“Oh, I rented it out for the day,” he says casually.

“You…what?” you ask with wide eyes.

“I just thought it might be nice to explore it in peace without anyone else around,” he shrugs off.

“That’s really sweet,” you say with a squeeze of his hand in yours. “I hope you know that you don’t have to do all that to impress me, though.”

Seungkwan looks away, maybe a little shy for the first time since you met him. Not that it’s been that long. “I do want to impress you.”

“Why?” you ask.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before and I want to show you that maybe I’m not like anyone you’ve met before either,” he answers. It’s so honest. More honest than you’re used to.

“You’re definitely not like anyone I’ve ever met,” you admit.

“In a good way?” he wonders.

“I’m not sure yet,” you say, matching his level of too-honest.

Seungkwan, usually quick with a smart remark, doesn’t have anything to say to that. He only runs his thumb over the knuckles of your hand in his. You’re starting to appreciate that about him. That he doesn’t always say something even when you know he’s got some of the quickest wit in the world.

When you leave the museum, he takes you to the greasiest hole-in-the wall of a dinner that you’ve ever seen. The kind of place that you can’t really imagine someone like him visiting. Someone that has a car phone and designer everything. The kind with more money than you can even conceive of having yourself. But, he slides into the booth with the cracked leather and opens up the discolored menu to see what the place has.

There’s something really endearing about it. Especially considering how worried you were about fitting in at the art museum and then some fancy restaurant afterwards. Instead, he’s showing you all the little ways that he can fit into your world. Or that he can adjust his world to fit you. All the many ways that he listens when you say something about wanting to go to the museum or not really seeing the point of those super fancy places. Which, honestly, isn’t even totally true.

Your heart is so full watching Seungkwan make the waitress laugh at his jokes. You feel impossibly light at the ease of the conversation between you. It’s even easy to swat away at his hand when he tries to steal food off of your plate. It should be a little scary, the way this man is breaking down every wall that you spent so long putting up with a practiced ease. It’s not, though, and you don’t really want to dwell on why that is.

Nothing really changes, at least not officially. But, in reality, everything is different. Seungkwan fits into your daily routine with the same ease that he’s shown in everything else. He’s there with coffee before you start work, there at the end of the day to talk about dinner plans or walk you over to the restaurant your parents own. Sometimes, he’s there during the work day, with or without his friends. It’s only been a little over a week and he already feels like an inextricable part of your routine.

Your brother only teases you a little bit. Mostly, he claims, because he’s afraid that Mingyu could take him (spoiler: he absolutely could not). Really, he’s just happy to see you happy and taking chances that you wouldn’t normally take. Happy to see you enjoying life instead of just living to work. He doesn’t talk about the looming issue and you don’t bother bringing it up either.

At least until you can’t really avoid it anymore.

You and Seungkwan are sitting on a swinging bench at the park. With your legs tucked up underneath you, it’s easier to curl up to him. As is normal for him, he finds all the little ways that he can to be in contact with your body. Even though physical affection has never been your favorite, he’s so casual about it that it feels easy. Everything feels easy.

“So, I have to leave tomorrow,” he says.

And suddenly, your whole world flips. Which is crazy, right? You still barely know him. Haven’t really been out on much that counts as a date. And you knew that this all had a time limit because he’s a tourist. A shooby. Someone that only comes down during the summer or on weekends. This isn’t home to him like it is to you. It doesn’t make any sense that it would feel as awful as you’re feeling now. He’s just someone you met through work and have gotten to know. It is not the end of the world.

“Oh, right,” you say, pulling away to put space between the two of you.

“Are you upset?” he asks.

“No, of course not. Why would I be?” you ask in return.

“You seem upset,” he presses.

You scoff. “As if.”

“Well, I actually wanted to talk about what we were going to do since I have to head back to the city,” he says.

“What we’re going to do?” you repeat as a question.

“Yeah, like about us,” Seungkwan says. You aren’t looking at him so you don’t see the confusion on his face. You don’t really hear it, either. Not over the pounding in your head. “I was thinking I could come down sometimes on the weekend and figure out how to get you up to the city when you have time off during the week and…”

“What are you doing, Seungkwan?” you snap, finally looking at him.

If he registers the hurt in your eyes, he doesn’t comment on it. He only reiterates what he’s already said. “I’m trying to talk about us, like I said.”

“There is no us here,” you snap. “It always had an expiration date, right? You were always going to leave.”

“Well, yeah, I do have to leave. But, I don’t want this to…” he starts.

“To what? To end? Why bother starting it in the first place?” you ask with far more bite than you intended.

“Because I like you,” he says like it’s obvious.

“Do you? Or do you just like that I’m fun for vacation?” you ask.

“This has never been about just having fun on vacation,” he says, still trying to keep his voice even. You can hear the irritation creeping in, though. Good. Maybe that’ll be easier.

“Sure it wasn’t,” you snark.

“Listen, if it was just about fun on vacation, I wouldn’t have picked you,” he finally snaps.

“Nice, Seungkwan,” you say, even though you know you pushed him.

“Don’t turn this around. You know it’s not about it being some vacation fling. Vacation flings are supposed to be…” he starts and then snaps his mouth shut.

“What? Easy? So I’m not a fling because I didn’t sleep with you?” you ask.

“You’re twisting my words, that’s not what I meant,” he pleads with you.

It’s too much, though. This is exactly why you never go on dates with people like him. This town is just an escape to them. Something to get them out of the dreary routine of everyday life. And it’s everything to you. The only thing you’ve ever known and the one place you’re not sure you could ever give up. So, yeah, you knew better than to get involved with him. Knew and did it anyway. There’s nobody else to blame.

Without another word, you’re on your feet and walking off. Ignoring Seungkwan’s calls after you. It’s over and that’s a good thing. It’ll allow you to refocus on the things that matter like your family and making enough money to last through the quiet season. There’s no point in listening to anything else that Seungkwan has to say when you’ve heard it all before.

This always had an expiration date, you remind yourself. At least you got to walk away on your own terms.

It seems that Seungkwan doesn’t understand that it has an expiration date. He tries to stop by the shop before he and his friends head back home. Your brother is quick to intercept him and suggests he’s better off just leaving. For all the annoying things your brother does, at least he doesn’t bother you. Just lets you keep busy and take over any of the tours when you don’t have something else to do. Even lets you reorganize the entire store without a word. You’re thankful for him.

That’s not the last you hear of him, though. You come home to messages on your answering machine asking you to call him back with a number. There’s no point in taking down the number, or even finishing the messages, so you delete them. It even makes you hesitate to answer the phone, preferring to let the machine get it. When you’re not sure if it could be him, you’re not in a rush to pick up.

That’s when he starts reaching out to your friends like Vernon. Thankfully, he’s naturally aloof and doesn’t actually know much of what’s going on. There’s not much he can tell Seungkwan. Not much help he can provide. Although, he wouldn’t help anyone that you didn’t want him to, so he mostly just stays out of it.

It isn’t until the first weekend since he left that you realize he’s still got tricks up his sleeves. You actually have a minute to wonder why he didn’t call the night before. Actually wonder if maybe you’re being too hard on him. And then he’s there, waiting for you by your shop. When you try to ignore him and breeze through the door, your brother blocks your way.

“Just…give him a chance to talk. You might be surprised what he has to say,” Jamie says.

Your brother is a lot of things. He’s annoying in the way all siblings can be. But, he’s never stuck his nose into your business without good reason. And he’s definitely never gotten involved in your dating life. It’s enough of a pause to make you consider giving Seungkwan a chance to say whatever he drove all this way to tell you.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask when you sit down next to him.

“It’s the only way I could think of to make sure I could talk to you,” he says.

“I didn’t want to talk,” you say, a little petulant.

“Then you can just listen,” he says. That catches you a bit off guard with how firm he is. “I didn’t come down here looking for anything. I just came away for a trip with my boys. Then we met you and you’re all I could think about. You’re complicated and guarded, but you’re also kind, smart, funny, thoughtful, strong, and the only person in my life I haven’t been able to figure out in one or two conversations. I wasn’t planning on developing feelings for you. I can’t help that I did. And it certainly has nothing to do with it being vacation. You’re not some vacation fling to me.”

That whole speech brings you up very short. This isn’t what you were expecting and you feel a little guilty. You’re not used to someone putting in this much effort when there are so many obstacles. It’s not how this normally goes. Sure, someone comes down for a weekend or a vacation and they want to chase you while they’re here. Then, the vacation ends and they want to just go back to their normal life with a story about the person from vacation. They didn’t want the complication of distance and schedules before anything had even really happened.

“There’s got to be other people that don’t live so far away,” you say.

“I can’t think of anyone but you,” he says confidently. Easily.

“But, why me?” you ask.

“For all the reasons I said,” he says.

“You live far away,” you protest weakly.

Seungkwan takes your hands in his and looks calmly into your eyes. “Just answer one thing for me. Do you feel something for me as well? Or am I reading this whole thing wrong?”

“I do, but…” you start.

“No buts. Don’t worry about the distance or any of that. We’ll figure all of that out,” he says.

“By me moving?” you wonder.

He looks surprised. “No, of course not. We’ll just find times where we can. It’s like I said. I’ll come down for a weekend or you can come visit me. I’ll pay to send a town car to pick you up if I have to.”

“You really want to make this move without changing…” you start but can’t finish.

“I want you exactly how you are. Like I said, we’ll figure out a way,” he says. “Are you in? Ready to take the jump?”

“As long as you catch me,” you say through the butterflies in your stomach.

“Every time,” he agrees.

i struggled with this and seungkwan was difficult, but i hope you like it all the same 💕

112 notes · View notes