Disclaimer: I do not own Stranger Things or any of the characters created by the show.

My OC is Claire Owens.

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Claire had just spilled everything to Nancy, explaining essentially that she'd kept seeing Billy around, and that she always caught him staring at her, what she'd heard about him, then the events at basketball practice and in the parking lot, finally ending with what Steve said.

"I don't know, now that I've said it out loud this all seems totally dumb." Claire finished. "I mean, we've never even really talked before."

Nancy smiled a little, also pondering. "Maybe, but it sort of sounds like he might be interested. I mean, why else would Steve have said anything if Billy didn't seem interested in you?" Claire's heart fluttered. "The real question is, would you really go out with him?"

A question I've been asking myself for a while, Claire thought. "I don't know… probably not. If Steve thinks he's a jerk, he probably is."

"You know," Nancy hesitantly started, "Steve wasn't always the nicest guy at Hawkins, either."

"Really?" Claire asked, surprised. He was definitely popular, and sometimes he could be super sarcastic, but Claire had always seen him be respectful of Nancy.

"Yeah, totally." She looked at her hands. "I think he was always a good guy on the inside, but for a while he was just hanging around with these jerks, and I don't know. Maybe he was trying to impress them?"

"Do you think you changed him?" She smiled bashfully.

"I don't know if it was me… But he's definitely matured a lot since we've started dating." Nancy paused in thought. "I'm not saying go out with him even if he's not a good guy," she corrected, "I just mean… I'd wait until you see it for yourself or hear more to decide that you don't want to go out with him. Steve could have just been mad that he got shown up in basketball, too."

That's an understatement. But maybe she has a point.

"Besides," she continued, "theoretically, if he did ask you out, what could be the harm in going on one date?" Claire smiled at the idea.

"I guess you're right… He might not even ask me out, though."

"I guess only time will tell." Nancy smiled and nudged Claire playfully.

Their conversation continued on well into the night, and it was quite late by the time they settled down to go to sleep. Claire's mind was racing with thoughts about Billy given her conversation with Nancy. What if he really asked me out?

Soon enough, he was haunting her dreams.

...

"Oh, hey, Claire." Billy was apparently waiting for Claire at her locker. "How about you and me ditch this place, and go take a long drive in my car?" He was smiling seductively at her, and polished it off with an attractive wink. He was also shirtless.

"Only if I get to choose the music." Claire smoothly drawled, much more confidently than usual. He nodded, impressed, as she strode past him in the direction of the parking lot, knowing he'd follow. She wasn't wearing her usual plain clothing today- she looked just as risqué as he did in her short denim skirt, tight black sweater and heels. Her hair was down and tousled, and she was wearing red lipstick. Billy walked closely behind her, admiring her and how gracefully she walked. Everyone in the halls stopped to look at her in admiration. They finally reached the parking lot; his car was parked in the drop off loop, waiting for them. Billy opened the passenger door for her and he took her hand as she slid in. Before he could shut the door, shouting came from behind them.

"Wait!"

"Stop!"

"Claire, come back!"

Claire looked around Billy to see her friends and family scrambling through the hallway of the school after them. She saw Steve, Nancy, her parents, even Nancy's little brother and mom. She saw a few of her closest track teammates and her favorite teacher. She saw a couple of her best friends from Michigan. They were all racing in a frantic herd to reach her. The looks on their faces were all pleading her to get out of the car.

Billy closed the door, and she stared at them, paralyzed and unnerved, unsure what to do.

Billy cackled as he slid into the driver's seat and started the car. "You ready for this, Claire?" He smiled wickedly. Just as they were about to pull off, Steve stepped in front of the car.

"Claire, wait! Don't do this!" Her other friends and family clawed at the doors and windows of the car with no success. Nancy was crying on the other side of the passenger window. Claire numbly put her fingers up to touch the glass.

"You always were a pain in my ass, Harrington." Claire glanced back to Steve, shouting and slamming his hands on the hood of the car, looking at her with worry.

With an excited, evil yell into the air, Billy stepped on the pedal and the car propelled forwards.

...

Claire's eyes bolted open. She was in a mild uncomfortable sweat, and her heart was racing. Her eyes found Nancy, and Claire assured herself that the dream wasn't real. It wasn't real.

She laid back down and took a few deep breaths, looking at the clock beside the bed. 7:30AM. While the girls usually slept a bit later on the weekends, Claire couldn't imagine she would be able to go back to sleep. Even if she could, she didn't really want to. She was still uneasy from the dream, and very confused. She very rarely dreamed as vividly as she just had. It felt so real.

What did that mean? She questioned as she quietly got up and put her sweat shirt on. She grabbed her back pack and made her way to the living room to do some homework. A dream like that has to mean something…

She worked through some English homework, reading and summarizing an excerpt from Romeo and Juliet. She internally criticized how unrealistic the whole Shakespearean situation was.

Yes, true love is an amazing thing, but you didn't even know him. Claire thought in reference to Juliet risking everything and running away for Romeo. You had only just met him- for all you know, he could be absolutely terrible for you, and you gave up your life for him. She admitted to herself that her current thoughts were a little bit more cynical than usual.

I won't go out with Billy. She decided to herself. Something in my gut is telling me not to. I've always listened to my gut.

And she left it at that.

She spent most of the morning with Nancy before they left to meet up with Steve and a few other friends at the movies in the early afternoon. Everyone else was planning on getting burgers and shakes that night, but Claire decided to go home to have dinner with her parents.

She enjoyed having dinner with them. Her parents were so interested in her life and loved hearing stories about her day. Claire was very open with them, and had always felt like she could be. Her dad told funny stories of her goofy uncle at work. Her mom discussed upcoming Halloween plans to decorate the house and to have some work friends over. That night, Claire fell asleep on the sofa watching a movie with them. She fell into a deeper sleep as her dad covered her with a blanket and kissed the top of her head.

A calm rushed over her which was soon interrupted by another strange dream.

...

"Oh, hey, Claire." Billy was once again waiting for Claire at her locker. "How about you and me ditch this place, and go take a long drive in my car?" He smiled softly, tenderly taking Claire's hand. They were both dressed in what was normal for them. Claire's hair was held back loosely in a bow.

This time Claire felt uneasy walking up to him. "I don't know…" Billy's face fell. He looked hurt and confused. Claire's stomach knotted up at the sight.

"I thought you liked me, Claire." He let go of her hand.

"I do, I just…"

"I thought you wanted to be with me… Why are you doing this?"

"I'm sorry, Billy. I just don't…"

"Then why are you doing this?" He asked again. He looked like a wounded animal.

She turned as she heard shouting behind her.

"Get out of here!"

"Go away, loser!"

"Did you really think she wanted to be with you?!"

It was once again a chorus of shouts coming from her friends and family. They all wore looks of disgust and hatred. Most of them were smiling smugly. They were all shouting at Billy, twisting the knife in the wound. She looked back at him, and he looked at her, questioning why she wouldn't intervene. She felt frozen.

"I thought you weren't like them, Claire. I-I… thought you were different." He stammered as his bottom lip quivered, and he turned to run away.

She tried to say something; she tried to shout his name. She tried to run after him, but she couldn't. She was paralyzed. She couldn't do anything as all of those closest to her berated him with nasty word and shouts.

"That's right, keep running!"

"You're worthless!"

"How pathetic! He's crying!"

The hoard laughed behind her, laughed at the sight of him running out of the school, alone and afraid and heart broken.

She felt like crying. She felt like protecting him. She felt like screaming.

But she couldn't do anything. She was helpless.

...

Claire woke early Sunday morning, this time on the verge of tears. What the hell is going on?

She attempted to study a bit before finally giving up, instead choosing to mope around her room for a bit. After a while, she decided that she had to do something to get her mind off of things- she had to shake this feeling.

She had breakfast with her parents before heading off on her bike to the high school. She would run around the track for a bit and practice her hurdle. She had improved quite a bit over the course of a couple weeks, but she was determined to improve enough to compete at the team's first meet in mid-October.

She followed the usual routine from practice, beginning with a brisk 1-mile jog around the track, then transitioning to some basic callisthenic exercises. She had worked up quite a sweat before she began her routine sprints. While there was still a morning chill in the air, the sun beat down on her mercilessly. She felt her cheeks and shoulders getting warm and hoped she wouldn't burn. For a second, she regretted wearing such little clothing when it was so sunny outside, but she figured she'd rather be more comfortable. She did not typically wear such a loose tank top that just barely covered her midriff with shorts as short as the ones she currently wore, but she knew no one else would be at the school and the normal practice clothing was too tight, long and itchy.

She pulled the hurdles out from under the bleachers and placed them in their respective spots on the track. She then paced over to the starting line, stretching out as much as she could. If she could improve her flexibility, she wouldn't have to work as hard to hoist herself over the hurdles. She took a moment to catch her breath completely, brushing sweat off of her forehead and staring at the track, trying not to be intimidated. She could do this. She glanced at the stop watch in her palm, which was still set to the last time she received- 21.45 seconds. That was one of her better times. She needed to at least improve her time to 19.0 to be good enough to participate in an event.

She zeroed the stop watch and knelt at the starting line. She raised her hips into the air. Then she took off. She clicked the stop watch as she crossed the finish line.

22.16

Claire shook her head, disappointed. She could do better than that. She paced a bit to give herself a rest, then began again.

21.37

She huffed again. Better, but not good enough. Come on, Claire. Focus. Remember what Coach tells you- don't be afraid of the hurdle. Don't hesitate. It should be a fluid motion, like the hurdle isn't even there. Claire shook off her previous attempts, trying to focus. She made her way back to the starting line, hands on her hips.

Don't hesitate.

She got into her starting position, raised her hips, and took off.

The first two hurdles were totally fluid. Effortless, almost. As her thoughts darted excitedly to imagining how it would feel to finally clock a time shorter than 20.0, her back foot caught on the third hurdle and she tumbled onto the track.

Her palms and left knee skidded across the hot pavement, and Claire winced as she tried to push herself up too soon. She stopped and gave herself a second to stretch out and examine her knee. It was sore, scuffed, and bleeding. She took a couple of deep breaths, telling herself that falling is a part of improving. It means she was going faster- she wasn't used to hurdling at that speed. Once she got her timing right, she would certainly improve her time. For today, she would rest a bit, clean herself up, and come back tomorrow, ready to go again. She gingerly pushed herself off of the track, testing how it felt to put pressure on her left side. She felt assured as she realized it was only sore because of the scrape, which would probably only hurt like this for a day or two.

That being said, the sting worsened significantly as she pulled the hurdles back into their place under the bleachers. By the time she got back to her bike, her knee burned so badly when she bent it to pedal that she decided to walk her bike home. At this point, there was also a gross amount of blood dripping down her leg. She hoped she could get home before it reached her socks, but she had a long way to go. She threw the small pack she'd brought, holding only her wallet and a small water bottle that she'd drained way earlier over her shoulder and began her trek.

Just as she walked out onto the main road in front of the school, she heard a loud engine and equally loud, blaring music. She looked in front of her up the road to see a familiar car- Billy's- working its way quickly towards her. Too quickly, in fact. Her stomach dropped. She was not on the same side of the road as Billy's car, but she scooted as closely to the edge of the gravel as she could anyways. She looked down at her bike, hoping he wouldn't recognize her. How embarrassing, to be seen by anyone, much less Billy, in her loose track clothing, sweaty, bleeding, hurt and probably a bit sun burnt.

She kept her eyes down, stray hairs falling over her face, as Billy's car approached. She almost sighed with relief as the car passed her, then she heard it screech to a halt. The engine revved loudly as Billy put the car in reverse, and in what felt like no time, Billy Hargrove was sitting in his car, in the middle of the road, just feet away from Claire. He turned the music down.

"Hey." Claire was forced to finally look up at him. He was smiling enticingly at her, his tongue darting to his lower lip.

"Hi." Claire responded politely as she stopped walking.

"It's Claire, right? You're friends with Harrington." She nodded, feeling a flutter in her chest. How did he know her name? "I'm Billy Hargrove."

I know who you are.

"Nice to meet you." Claire said sweetly, innocently. Hopefully not like she'd been thinking about him nonstop for the last few days.

"Can I give you a ride home?" He asked. Claire paused, not sure how to respond. When she didn't answer immediately, he continued. "I noticed you were limping… It's no problem for me, I just gotta run to the drug store real quick." His voice was so silky, like caramel. He inhaled the cigarette dangling limply from his hand, eyeing her, waiting for a response.

"I… can't." Claire stammered nervously. "I have my bike with me." Good excuse.

"If you want, you can leave it at the school for today." He offered, blowing smoke slowly out of his mouth. "I'll even give you a ride tomorrow morning. Then you can ride it home tomorrow afternoon." He grinned charmingly.

"Really, I'm fine walking." Claire smiled kindly. He was silent for a moment, looking her up and down. "Thank you, though." She added, not wanting to offend him. Billy sighed loudly.

"Alright, fine." He put the car in park and jumped out, dropping his cigarette and stepping on it. Claire looked either way down the road; no cars. What was he doing? She backed away instinctively, but he didn't move towards her. He walked to the passenger side of the car, pulled the seat up, then rummaged around the back seat for a moment. Claire peered curiously around the car, trying to catch a glimpse of what he was looking for, but before she could, he stood up, throwing the door closed. He carried a water bottle and a small towel, working his way towards Claire.

"If you're not gonna let me give you a ride," he began, squeezing out a bit of water over the towel, "then here." He held out the damp towel. Claire looked up at him in disbelief, not saying a word. "For your knee. You'll still have to clean it up, obviously, but it should help until you get home."

Claire was touched, and impressed. Her heart was racing. He's… he's being nice… She thought.

"You gonna take it?" He asked curiously, smirking. She extended her hand and took the towel gratefully. Her fingers grazed his… She thought she might faint.

"Thank you so much." She smiled at him, this time more genuinely than before. Billy studied her for a moment, not yet moving back to his car. She looked at her feet.

"My offer still stands if you want a ride." He shrugged, finally turning away from her. Claire let out her breath, which she had apparently been holding. Billy kept his eyes on her as he got back into the car, revving the engine. "You still wanna walk?"

Claire's mind was racing. She looked at her bike, then looked up at Billy. He had a look on his face like he already knew what she'd decided. Without Claire having to say anything else, he said "I'll pull around next to the bike rack, okay?"

Claire nodded and smiled. "Sure. Thank you." She turned around and began pushing the bike back into the school parking lot, and Billy drove next to her. She kept her eyes on her bike, and on the damp towel she held, wondering how she'd ended up in this situation. She was about to get into a car with Billy Hargrove. Wow.

She finally steered the bike into a spot on the rack in front of the school, and Billy was waiting behind her. He'd lit up another cigarette already, which was currently hanging out of his mouth, while he looked in the rearview mirror at himself, brushing his hair back. She smiled softly. He wasn't intimidating. He wasn't a scary person. He was just a boy, and she was just a girl. Her dreams were just that- dreams. She had nothing to be afraid of.

She found comfort in his fidgeting, and walked up to his car, holding the towel and her small backpack. He reached over to pop the door open for her, and as she sat down he took a long, deliberate drag from his cigarette.

"Took you long enough."


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