Chapter 10 - Paper Rings
Kiss you once 'cause I know you had a long night
Kiss you twice 'cause it's gonna be alright
Three times 'cause you waited your whole life
The Hideaway was one of the few places in Hawkins that Joyce rarely frequented. Being a minor, she wasn't allowed in after-hours but she wasn't a huge fan of the grungy atmosphere the establishment presented anyway. She could count on one hand how many times she's been here in the past decade, tonight being one of those times.
Hopper had picked her up after her parents were asleep, signalling the usual way and watching from the car as she slipped out her bedroom window. Earlier at school, he insisted that they needed a night out to make up for lost time and Joyce, though initially she put up a fight, gave in and agreed to meet him.
They hadn't talked about what happened (or almost happened) at the fair, but she could feel things beginning to shift between them. Today, they ate lunch together beneath the bleachers and laughed like they hadn't laughed since they were kids. They agreed to move past all the bullshit and drama from the past month and move forward with their friendship, but neither of them forgot about what almost happened between them. Hopper made it clear that his feelings for her extended far beyond platonic, and she knew he was waiting for her to indicate that she was on the same page before jeopardizing what they almost broke, again.
He'd surprised her by telling her he made arrangements for them to play pool in one of the back rooms of the Hideaway. Initially, she didn't believe him when he told her that this was where they were going. They were underage and it was far past the hour when the bar opened, but he'd somehow managed to convince the manager, an old friend of his fathers, to hold a table for them.
"You ready to get your ass kicked, Horowitz?" he smirks while he adds chalk to the end of his pool cue.
They're the only two people in the room, dimly light and buzzing with the faint sound of the neon signs lining the battered walls. The green felt-lined table lay beneath an old red and blue glass light fixture, surrounded by walls covered in random newspaper articles in pale wooden frames.
Hopper hands Joyce a cue and moves to rack the balls. Dressed in her leather jacket and a dark pair of jeans, she fits in with the bar aesthetic and he momentarily envies the way she naturally exists anywhere.
"I'm pretty good," she fires back. She walks a few paces around the edge of the table and waits for him to remove the plastic triangle from the corralled balls.
"When have you ever played pool?" he asks.
"Josie taught me."
He gets quiet, her reference to the time when they weren't speaking rendering him momentarily speechless. He hated himself for letting her slip out of his life so easily.
"Can I break?" she asks.
"Be my guest," he gestures towards the table.
Leaning forward, one hand wrapped around the wooden cue, thumb propping up the edge, Joyce sends the white ball flying towards the others, which scatter across the table. She sinks a solid and follows up by sinking another before resigning to Hopper.
"Holy shit," he remarks after her first turn.
"I told you. Get ready to lose," she winks.
She takes the first game but loses the second and the third not-so-graciously. She whines that Hopper's cheating when he takes the lead in the third game, even though they both know he isn't.
Partway through their fourth game, Joyce loses interest and finds herself sitting between the corner and side picket, legs dangling from the edge of the table, while Hopper continues to practice around her.
"Aren't you bored yet?" she pouts, leaning back with both palms on the table.
"Practice makes perfect," he grins. On the opposite side of the table, he hits the red ball off the orange and sends it sailing towards her.
He rounds the table and stands in front of her, her body preventing him from continuing.
"You know you're in the way, right?" he smirks down at her.
With doe eyes and a flirty smile, she stares up at him and tilts her head slightly to the left, "What if you're in my way?"
"That's not even possible. You're just sitting there."
"I'm studying the game," she lies.
"Oh?" he plays along with an amused grin. "And what are you learning?"
He takes a step closer to her and her feet brush against his shins.
"That you're not very good," she laughs.
"And yet, I kicked your ass two, no three times."
"The last one doesn't count. We never finished."
"Because you gave up," he reminds her. He takes another step towards her and towers over her while he reaches around her and encompasses a ball with his palm. His cheek grazes hers as he lunges forward, launching the ball into the side pocket with a self-satisfied grin. Without realizing it, he's standing with both of his feet planted between where her legs dangle off the edge of the table.
Pulling back, their chests graze and Joyce gulps. Rather than step away once the ball is no longer in his grasp, he leans down and uses his thumb to raise Joyce's chin until their eyes lock.
"What?" she chuckles softly.
"I feel like I'm going to kiss you," he admits.
He sees no sign of hesitancy in her eyes and closes the distance between them by planting his lips on hers with impressive force. She reacts by instinctively urging him forward with her heels, her hands settling in his hair.
His upper lip brushes against hers softly and unlike their previous kiss that was desperate and passionate and rushed, this one is slow and explorative. He takes his time with each movement, determined to memorize the curve of her smile and the way she tastes. Kissing her, it was like nothing else he'd ever experienced. Something lit up in him and made every nerve ending in his body rejoice. If he were to compare it to a physical action, the only thing that would come close would be the swell in the air in the brief moment between the crackle of thunder and the crash of lightning.
When they finally part for air, he rests his forehead against hers and traces the outline of her lower lip with his thumb. Before he allows it to slowly roll off the center of her lip, she catches him off guard by biting down on it and raising an eyebrow suggestively.
Hopper reacts instantly, lunging forward once again to kiss her. She tumbles back with him this time, leaning back on her elbows while plunging her tongue into his mouth. Hopper's knee rests on the edge of the table and he uses it to balance himself as he hovers over her.
The moment is broken when someone breaks a glass in the bar and the shattering sound echoes through the kitchen. Embarrassed to have let himself get so carried away, Hopper climbs off Joyce and extends a hand to help her up while using the other to straighten out his shirt.
"We should… um… I should get you home," he mumbles. He drags a hand through his hair and tries to calm himself down with a few deep breaths.
"Yeah, we should," she agrees flustered.
They gather their things and Hopper leads Joyce out to the car, his hand guiding her from its place on her lower back.
The ride home from the Hideaway is comfortably silent. Joyce has her feet kicked up the dashboard, one arm hanging out the window flapping up and down with the cool evening air. Hopper's gaze flicks from the road to Joyce and back again, forcing a blush to settle over her cheeks.
Neither of them says anything but words aren't needed. Everything felt like it was falling into place and words were a form of communication the pair never needed. Joyce smiles at Hopper and continues to stare out the window at the passing town while she wonders where this metaphorical road will lead them.
There was no going back, that much she knew, but it felt like the relationship she and Hopper had was progressing naturally towards something bigger and she was bursting with anticipation just thinking about it.
When they arrive at Joyce's house, Hopper offers to walk Joyce to the door. She politely declines his offer, knowing that she'll be far too tempted to resume the wordless conversation that begins at the bar. Hopping out of the car, she tells him she had a nice time and waves before beginning her climb up the side of the house towards her window. He waits for ten minutes after she's tucked away in the safe confines of her bedroom and then begins the journey back to his own house, all the while smiling like an absolute fool.
While he was glad that he and Joyce managed to fix their friendship, he couldn't help but notice that it was evolving into something more . He knew he made the right decision when he told Chrissy that his friendship with Joyce was too important to walk away from, but tonight, he realized that it wasn't his friendship with Joyce that he was choosing. It was the hope that they could explore what this inevitable spark between them meant.
Joyce hadn't exactly told him that she wanted to pursue the possibility of them, but if the way she kissed him was any indication of how she was feeling, he was positive that they were on the same page.
He knows it might be too soon, but to hell with precedent. He wanted to show Joyce what she meant to him by taking her out on a real date.
He was tired of pretending he wasn't ready to fall head over heels in love with his best friend.
.
.
Joyce hadn't seen Hopper since their steamy kiss at the Hideaway, being as he had an early morning workout with the football team and she spent the morning working on an essay in the library. He bounds into science class with a massive smile on his face and gives her a two-fingered wave as he takes his seat.
The bell rings and the lesson begins promptly, leaving no time for the pair to have a conversation.
Midway through the lesson that Joyce is only semi paying attention to, she feels a folded-up piece of paper land on her arm.
Amused, she looks over at Hopper, who she finds is staring back at her with wide eyes and childlike amusement. Shaking her head at his antics, she stealthily unfolds the note beneath her notebook and reads it.
Go to the dance with me? -H
She doesn't outwardly acknowledge what it says, instead choosing to slide it under her notebook and force her focus to be on the lesson. She can feel Hopper glaring at her from his seat across the aisle but she doesn't dare look over at him.
Was he serious? Did he want to take her to the dance? He had to mean as friends, didn't he? She's a mess of what-ifs and is tingling excitement at the possibility that perhaps he meant what she wanted him to mean. Maybe he meant what he'd been telling her and his infatuation wasn't just because he couldn't have her. Joyce hates herself for being so hopeful, but he'd given her so many signs, how could she not hold out hope. Besides, just because she wanted him to be interested in her, didn't mean that she trusted that this was something he actually wanted. It could have been a personal challenge to see if he could acquire what was unattainable.
When the dismissal bell rings, Joyce gathers her books, tucking the note between her middle and index finger and marches herself over to Hopper's desk.
"Ha ha. Very funny," she remarks, returning the note to him.
"I wasn't joking," he admits.
"Yeah right. Hop. Be serious."
"I am. I'm being dead serious. Come to the dance with me?"
"I hate dances," she reminds him. "Besides, wouldn't you rather go with your friends or ask some girl you have your eye on now that you're single?" She makes sure that her words don't come out harshly so that he knows she doesn't mean to be rude by reminding him of the recent change in his relationship status.
"I did just ask the girl I have my eye on," he admits.
Her draw drops open slightly, "oh."
"I know that the note was kind of lame but I've been spending a lot of time thinking about this - you and I, I mean, and I really wanted to ask you." He nervously runs his hand through his hair and chuckles. "As my date."
Joyce is silent for a moment while she attempts to process what he's just said. She wants to say yes, to believe that they can be something together, but… for whatever reason, she can't bring herself to trust that this is real. That it isn't too good to be true.
Years of people letting her down had taught her that nothing was ever as good as it seemed and despite her knowing Hopper, the entire situation with Chrissy makes her doubt even how well she knows her best friend. He'd become a different person when he was with the blonde, what if he thought he wanted this and then changed his mind? It would leave her with nothing.
"Joyce?" The sound of his voice interrupts her thought.
"You know I don't dance," she rolls her eyes. Lacing her arm through his elbow, she leads him to the door of the classroom. "What do you say we skip next period and have lunch under the bleachers?"
"I wish I could but I promised Benny we could toss the ball around at lunch. Later this week, alright?"
"Alright," she smiles. She waves as he heads off towards the football field and lets out a long breath, grateful he hadn't pushed the dance subject.
The next day after school, Joyce finds Hopper waiting at her locker.
"I thought you had practice after school today?" she questions him.
"I do. I wanted to see if you wanted to go to the lake later?"
"Hmm. I've got some homework to do. What time?"
"I was thinking I could pick you up around 8?"
"I'm not sure Hop. I shouldn't."
"Joyce. It's a Friday. Live a little ," he smirks and pokes her.
"Fine. But pick me up at 9 o'clock instead."
"As you wish. See you at nine!"
Wearing her sneakers and leather jacket, Joyce flings herself into the front seat of Hopper's car and immediately reaches for the radio dial.
"Hey! I was listening to that," he whines as he begins to back down the driveway.
"We both know you like this song better," she beams. He shakes his head because as always, she was right.
He can tell by the way she's fidgeting in her seat that she's in a good mood and it makes him smile. He adored seeing her happy.
He drives down the old country road that leads to the lake and appreciates the way he and Joyce can sit in complete silence without things feeling tense. She was the only person on the planet that he was content to sit in silence with. With anyone else, he felt the need to strike up a conversation, but with her it was simple.
Admiring the way the moonlight illuminates the side of her face, his focus shifts from the road to the girl riding shotgun. With her long dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and her lips painted what was becoming a familiar shade of red, she was radiant. The way her lips curve up into a slender smile and crinkle the skin at the edges of her eyes reminds him of a time when they were kids and he would spend hours trying to make her laugh just to see her smile. Her smile was like a drug to him; he was addicted and couldn't get enough.
Joyce is staring out the window when they pull up at a red light and Hopper takes the opportunity to admire her. She has her elbow propped on the window, chin resting in her open palm while she leans forward through the open window and looks at the corner store across the road.
An impulsive thought urges Hopper to lean across the center console and kiss her. He doesn't. He wants to but knows it would be irrational and impulsive. Joyce was not the type of girl that deserved impulse, she deserved a whirlwind romance and well-thought-out action.
He swallows hard as he swallows his sudden need to kiss her and tightens his grip on the steering wheel.
Joyce turns towards him and catches him staring, an action that forces them both to blush.
"What?" she asks.
"Nothing," he shrugs. "Just looking."
"At me?"
"At you," he nods.
The light turns green and Hopper presses the gas pedal, moving the car through the intersection and in the direction of the lake.
When they arrive at the lake, they decide to stay seated in the car so they can listen to music and Hopper retrieves a bottle of Whiskey from the backseat and pops it open. He takes a large swig before cocking his head and offering the paper-bag-clad bottle to Joyce.
She kicks her heels up on the dashboard and crosses her ankles while mirroring his previous action and downing some of the alcohol. She sputters when it first touches her lips and Hopper laughs.
"Jesus Hop. That's terrible!"
"That's why you need to drink more, so it begins to taste better."
"That is terrible logic," she giggles.
"But you have to admit it makes sense."
" Maaaybe, " she replies. She takes another sip and passes the crinkled bag containing the bottle back to him.
"So," he begins nervously. "Have you given any more thought to what I asked you?"
"I agreed to come to the lake tonight, I thought that was the answer?"
"The other question. The dance," he reminds her.
"Oh," she replies, "I told you. I don't do dances."
"Not even with me?"
A beat passes without either of them saying anything. "I'll have to think about it," she finally responds.
While she wanted to agree to go out with him, a huge part of her was holding onto the fear that Hopper's invitation was lust-driven. It was childish, but for selfish reasons, she needed him to prove that he really wanted this. Her . She needed reassurance.
"That's not a no. I'll take it," he smiles.
They fall back against their seats and once again give in to the comfortable silence, wordlessly passing the bottle back and forth while staring out at the still waters of Lover's Lake.
"Joyce," he says, staring straight ahead.
"Mhmm?"
"I haven't had the chance to tell you how much I like the whole red-lip thing."
"Thanks, I like how you've been styling your hair lately," she tells him.
Feeling impulsive in her own way, Joyce reaches across the car and rests her palm on his right knee.
Hopper stills beneath her touch and his pulse begins to race. He forces himself to relax and he asks her how her afternoon of homework went. She begins to explain the concept of the essay she's working on and excitedly waves her arms around when she describes her stance on the topic.
He smiles and nods, doing his best to ask appropriate questions and listen to what she's saying.
"Gosh I'm so sorry I'm rambling. You don't care about my stupid essay," she says.
"Joyce, I care about everything you have to say," he tells her.
Smiling, she shifts herself close to the center console separating their seats and allows for her hand to shift up his thigh. Her thumb gently swipes across his upper thigh and she gives his leg a slight squeeze.
He looks down at her hand and gulps. Covering it with his own hand, he stills her thumb and they lock eyes.
"You're playing with fire," he warns her in a hushed tone.
"Maybe I want to get burned," she flirts. She maintains eye contact with him while she speaks.
Hopper reaches across the car and runs his calloused hand along Joyce's jaw line and up to cup her cheek, pausing to drag his thumb over her lower lip. Time moves slowly while his thumb rolls off her lip and drops down into the charged space between them. She gazes up at him through hooded want-filled eyes.
He leans closer, breathing laboured and closes his eyes. Lips hovering mere inches from hers, he breathes her in and prepares to close the gap between them. In the distance, a car horn blares and causes both Joyce and Hopper to jump and pull apart.
Joyce fiddles with the ends of her hair, twisting it through her fingers while she waits for Hopper to say something.
"Ugh," he stutters, "maybe we should…"
"Head home?" she finishes for him.
"Yeah. Since we're going to have to walk, I'm afraid I've had a bit too much to drink."
"A walk sounds nice to me," she grins.
They begin the walk back to Joyce's in the dark, travelling along the edge of the gravel path that's faintly illuminated by the yellow-tinted street lights.
Joyce swings her arms at her sides, the warmth of the alcohol and the adrenaline of what almost happened in the car making her giddy with excitement and confidence.
She takes another sip from the bottle and passes it back to Hopper, trailing one heel behind the other as she playfully walks the line between the grass and the road.
"What's better, time travel or flying?" he asks.
"Time travel."
"Agreed."
"Space or the ocean?" she asks in return.
"Space. The ocean terrifies me."
"I know," she responds. "Me too. It's too big."
"Space isn't too big?"
"It's a different kind of big. It's mysterious in a good way. The ocean just reminds me of something that contains too many secrets."
"And it has squids," Hopper adds. "I hate those things."
Joyce's laughter rings in his ears and she takes a few staggering steps towards him and reaches for their shared drink.
"Squids? That's the scariest part of the ocean?"
"You can't make fun of me, you're afraid of spiders!"
"They have so many legs!"
"So do squids!"
"Let's just agree to stay away from anything with eight legs?"
"Deal."
"How was your week?" Hopper asks her.
"Not too bad. My mom joined us for dinner last night."
"That's good. Right?"
"It was strange. She's never home for dinner."
"Maybe she's trying?"
"I'm trying not to get my hopes up," she admits.
"What about you? Is your dad still bothering you about a football scholarship?"
"Only every day. I doubt I'll get one."
"You don't think you're good enough?"
"I know I'm not. I love the game, but I don't think it's how I want to spend my life."
"And how exactly do you plan on spending it?"
"Honestly, I have no idea. I figure I'll just wait and see how things go next year. Wait until all the pieces fall into place."
"I like how that sounds. I think I'll do the same."
"Well then, here's to letting the cookie crumble," he toasts, raising the bottle to his lips and then passing it to Joyce.
Without warning, a crackle of lightning flashes across the sky and thunder booms.
Quickly, Hopper takes Joyce's hand and tries to run for shelter but she pulls her hand away and stays rooted in her spot in the center of the street.
With arms outstretched she stares up at the sky and lets the rain drops drench her face.
"What the hell are you doing?" he calls out to her from a few feet away.
"Living."
"You're crazy," he calls back, laughing as he shoves his hands in his pockets.
"Maybe," she smirks. She raises her arms and twirls around, allowing the puddles forming at her ankles to splash up onto the edge of her jeans. "Maybe I'm out of my mind," she giggles.
"Well?" she smiles over at him. Her hair is now completely soaked and stuck to her face, while the raindrops roll off the sleeves of her leather jacket. "Are you coming?"
He stares at her, completely wonderstruck and shakes his head. Stepping towards her, he reaches for the paper bag containing the bottle and takes a large swig.
"This is insane," he tells her.
"Aren't all the best ideas?" she replies.
"They are," he nods, extending a hand to her.
He places the bottle down on the road when she curiously places her palm in his and lunges forward to scoop her up and hoist her over his shoulder.
She squeals when he lifts her and laughs as he struggles to adjust and balance her on his shoulder.
"Put me down," she laughs.
"Nah," he smirks. He twirls them around, splashing through a massive puddle.
"Jim Hopper put me down this instant," she demands. The rain had soaked its way through his shirt and the cotton fabric was now clinging to his muscular shoulders beneath her. She pretends not to notice but her palm falls on his opposite shoulder as she tries to wriggle free and it's nearly impossible to pretend she's oblivious to his physique.
"As you wish," he replies, helping her down and directly into a puddle.
He keeps his hold on her once her feet are planted in the puddle and pulls her body into his. The rain makes the space between them misty and flattens Hopper's hair onto his forehead.
It's raining even harder now, making it nearly impossible to hear without screaming despite their close proximity.
"Ready?" Hopper yells down at Joyce.
"For what?" she calls back.
He raises their intertwined fingers above her head and twirls her beneath their connected arms before tugging her back towards them and dramatically dipping her and clutching at her waist.
Her laugh, deep and real as she dips back and her long dark hair nearly dips into a puddle, sends shock waves through him that make him want to dance in the rain with her until the day he dies. It was raw and magnetic, her laugh. He wants to make her laugh like this all the time.
He twirls her outwards once again, revealing in the way her laughter gets louder with each twirl. On the final spin, he attempts to bring her back towards him but the rain causes his hand to slip and he loses his grip on her. She spins back into his chest with impressive force for someone who was hardly 5'4 and places both hands on his chest which is hardly covered by his wet shirt.
With wide eyes and a massive smile, she looks up at him and blinks through the rain. The energy between them shifts from light-hearted and fun to electrified and unknowing in a matter of seconds and it sends an excited chill down Joyce's arms.
Instinctually, he leans down and cups her cheek in his hand. He presses his lips against hers, using his palms to anchor her against his body while she rocks forwards on her toes to meet him halfway.
They stand there, embracing, in the center of the street illuminated only by the misty dull light shining down from the lamp post up ahead. The rain continues to come down hard, but it makes no difference to either of them.
Standing on her toes, Joyce leans into Hopper, whose hands hold her petite waist while their lips softly graze against one another's.
She was right, she thinks to herself as she kisses him. All the best ideas were insane. This, standing in the middle of the road kissing her best friend in the rain, was insane.
But it was everything .
This moment would be etched in her mind until the end of time, she was certain of it. Dancing in the rain beneath the streetlights, it was the type of thing you saw in movies, not something that happened in real life. And yet, it was happening. She was living in a moment that was too good to be true.
He made her feel like she had everything .
With each gentle brush of his lips against hers, her stomach flutters and she grows more convinced that maybe they did want the same things.
Pulling back, she blushes and looks away. She needed to be sure of his intentions and that was something that shouldn't be decided on during a heat-of-the-moment kiss. If she wanted to, she could let herself fall for him. It would be terribly easy to fall for a man like Jim Hopper. But she would fall hard and she wasn't sure she had the strength to pick herself up if he decided not to stick around to catch her.
She loved him. Unmistakably. Undoubtedly. But she needed to be sure that this, that she was it for him before she truly let herself fall.
"We should get you home before you catch a cold," he says.
"Alright."
"Wouldn't want to give you any more excuses to not go to the dance with me. Seeing as we just proved that you can dance."
"We wouldn't want that, now would we."
"Does that mean you'll go with me?" he asks hopefully.
"No," she laughs. "But nice try."
"I'm going to keep trying."
"I hope you do," she tells him. It was the truth, she hoped he pursued their love story.
"Alright, grab that bottle and let's go," he smiles. Joyce walks back a few yards and retrieves their paper bag bottle. When she returns to Hopper, he takes her left hand in his and they begin the walk back to her house in the pouring rain, swinging their intertwined fingers between their bodies.
.
.
"You're late," she smirks when she spots him ducking beneath the bleachers. "Mr. Cooper was just over here lecturing me."
Sitting with her back pressed against the concrete, she dangles a cigarette between her teeth and slides over to make room for him. He takes a seat next to her and plucks the cigarette from between her teeth, taking a long drag.
"I was in class. Like you should have been."
"I thought we agreed to skip fifth and sixth."
"We did. But I had to run back to my car and grab something."
"Oh?"
"This," he says passing her a book, "is for you."
She accepts the novel and turns it over in her hand. It was an old copy of one of her favourites, but he knew she already owned multiple copies of it and the gesture confuses her.
"What's this?"
"Open it," he instructs.
Turning back the cover page, she notices he's placed two tickets for the dance inside the book.
"Hop," she semi-groans and semi-smiles.
"Let me take you to the dance."
"You're relentless."
"Is it working?"
"Maybe," she flirts. "But try again."
She pushes the tickets into his chest and steals her cigarette back.
"You're cruel."
"Just trying to stay true to myself," she reminds him.
"I love that about you, you're you ."
"I try to be."
The bell rings indicating the start of the next period and Joyce pushes herself to her knees.
"Where are you going?"
"I have a class to get to. It's not my fault you took so long to get here."
"Skip it."
"It's English. I like English."
"Lame."
"I'll see you later. Thank you for the book," she tells him. Leaning forward on her knees, she presses both palms to his chest and leans down to capture his lips in a surprise searing kiss.
When she pulls back and stands up, she notices he's still rooted in his places, staring off into space completely dumbfounded.
"Bye Hop," she winks.
He slips the tickets into his front pocket and stays sitting beneath the bleachers chain-smoking until school lets out for the day.
.
.
The following afternoon, Joyce brings her homework into the backyard and props herself up on her usual branch to read.
She notices a pack of cigarettes next to her usual spot and picks them up to examine them. Turning them over in her palm she realizes that they must belong to Hopper. He was always smoking these god-awful unfiltered ones.
She wasn't the biggest fan of them, often choosing to nag Hopper about his choice of smokes, but decides to light one while she reads and take advantage of the fact that he must have left them behind the last time he was up here.
When she opens the package to retrieve one, a note falls out along with a ticket to the dance. Shaking her head with a chuckle, she picks up the note and unfolds it.
He was persistent, she had to hand it to him.
Leaning back against the bark of the tree trunk, she lights a new cigarette and places it between her teeth before she picks up the note and begins reading.
Joyce,
There are a million reasons I think you should come to the dance with me, one of them is because I am absolutely crazy about you, but I'll leave you with just this one reason.
I know you're afraid that if this doesn't work out our friendship will be ruined, but I promise you, we're worth the risk. It's like in that cheesy movie you made me watch a few months ago, where the main guy is trying to tell the girl that they should be together. You know at the end when the guy tells the girl that from that start, he just knew. I'm that guy, Joyce. I look at you and I just know. We're meant to be together. You and me, we could be something.
So, this is me officially asking you to the dance. Not as my friend, but as my date. Because I want to date you.
Take the ticket and meet me outside the dance at 8:30 if you agree this is worth trying. I really hope to see you there.
Hopper
Dropping the note to her lap, she pinches the bridge of her nose and reminds herself to breathe. In. Out. She'd never know Hopper to be a romantic, but this note and the words he'd crafted could only be described as such.
We're worth the risk.
She hears the words over and over again in her mind, the tone of his voice that she'd conjured up in her head soothing.
We could be something.
Breathe in. Breathe out. They could be. She knows it. If she let herself love him the way she knew she was capable of, she knew that nothing else in her life, no other connection, would ever compare.
Because I want to date you.
She gulps, fiddles with her thumbs and smiles. She wanted that too. As terrified as she was of taking this risk, Hopper's ability to put himself out there, time and time again just to prove to her that he meant each word he said, gave her faith that she could push past her own fear. If he was willing to go through all of this just to show her how much she meant to him, shouldn't she be willing to give him, them , a chance?
She wants to. My god, she wants to.
Give him a chance.
Give them a chance.
She wants more than anything to have the same amount of faith in herself that Hopper had in her.
If he was willing to go through so much effort to show her that he was serious about them giving a romantic relationship a chance, she should be willing to overlook the personal demons that plagued her and do the same.
Reading over the note again, she smiles to herself. This was really happening. They were going to give this a shot.
.
.
Nervously, Hopper paces the length of the entrance. His dress shoes slap the battered pavement as he marches back and forth, hands pinned behind his back.
He felt absolutely ridiculous in his powder-blue monkey suit with his hair groomed back. In one hand, he holds a cigarette. The other holds a box containing a corsage.
This was stupid. She wasn't going to show up and he would be left standing out in the parking lot holding a box with a small flower, dateless.
Classmates arrive and enter the gym door behind him, some wave and tell him he looks nice but he doesn't hear them. He's too preoccupied wondering if she found the ticket he left for her. If she didn't find it, would she show up?
School dances had never been Joyce's scene but this was different. He knew she was tempted to agree to go with him when he asked her the first time and again when he asked at the lake. He can't blame her for being afraid. She didn't have many constants in her life.
He intended on remaining one of those constants.
Something in him told him to have faith that she would come but with each passing minute his faith waivers. He wasn't good enough for her. That much he knew. He was holding out hope that she was willing to give him a chance to try and be a man worthy of dating her.
He knew they were on the same page with their feelings. Though she hadn't outright told him, he knew. It was written in her smile when he made her laugh, broadcast when she wrinkled her nose ever-so-slightly after kissing him and on full display whenever they accidentally touched.
Joyce had been jealous of Chrissy for all the reasons Benny once mentioned and had every right to be. He was an idiot for failing to realize what they had. Now, he just had to hope that he hadn't realized too late.
He leans back against the wall next to the door, kicking his heel up to steady himself as he takes a long drag and exhales towards the sky. Pinching his eyes shut, he lets the sensation overcome him.
"I hope you have a flask," her voice rings through the parking lot. Hopper opens his eyes and finds Joyce standing a few feet in front of him. "Because I can't do this shit sober."
She's wearing a deep blue dress. It's simple. Semi-puffy sleeves and a skirt that falls just below her knees, paired with her converse, of course. Joyce has her hair pinned back behind her ears where it falls over her shoulders. With red painted lips, she grins up at him and beams.
"You look surprised," she smirks.
"I didn't know if you'd come," he admits.
"I considered staying home but someone left this," she holds up the ticket," for me and I didn't want it to go to waste."
"Right," he chuckles. Nervously, he steps towards her and reveals the box containing the corsage.
"I thought you didn't know if I'd come?"
"I didn't. I was being hopeful," he tells her. "This is for you."
He opens the box and reaches for the small pale pink flower. Joyce extends her hand and lets Hopper slip the elastic band over her wrist.
"I wasn't sure what colour your dress was but the women at the store said that this one was perfect for someone special."
"It's beautiful," she smiles. In awe, she stares down and admires it. No one had ever given her something so pretty.
"Should we go in?" he asks.
"After you," she beams, linking her arm through his elbow.
Arm-in-arm, Joyce and Hopper enter the school gymnasium which is covered in streamers and balloons. Though less extravagant than the prom set up, it looked nothing like the everyday gym and Joyce tenses at Hopper's side.
"Hey," he smiles down at her reassuringly, "this is going to be fun."
The pair set off to the punch table where Hopper pours them each a glass of the clearly-spiked punch. They claim seats on the bleachers located on the far side of the gym and watch their classmates dance as they enjoy the bitter taste of vodka and powdered juice.
"So," Hopper nervously claps his hands.
"So," Joyce echos.
"Is this awkward?"
"The dance? Or?"
"Us… being here together," he explains.
"A little bit," she admits.
"It doesn't have to be weird. We can just act like we normally do."
"How do we normally act?'
"Like us," he beams. "Hopper and Joyce."
She rolls her eyes and laughs, "those are our names."
"You know what I mean. Come on," he says, getting up and extending a hand to her.
"Where are we going?"
"Anywhere but here. This is extremely lame ."
"Oh thank god. This is painful," Joyce snickers. She places her palm in his and the two of them exit the gym and march back into the parking lot, hand in hand.
She notices a few of their classmates turn and stare while she and Hopper weave their way through the crowd towards the exit, no doubt whispering about their intertwined fingers but she doesn't care. Let them talk, she thinks to herself. In fact, she would give them something to talk about. With a self-satisfied smile, she reaches over with her free hand and places it on Hopper's bicep with a squeeze. He leans into her in response and quickens the pace to the door.
"Where to?" she asks once they're outside.
"Let's start with a few of these," he says, holding up a pack of cigarettes. He leads them through the parking lot to his car and leans against the hood while passing her an unlit cigarette.
"People are going to talk, you know," she tells him.
"About what?"
"This," she gestures between them. " Us. Being here together."
"Screw em. Let them talk all they want."
"You're okay with that?"
"If it means I get to do this," he smirks and reaches for her waist. In one swift motion, he tugs her towards him, effectively trapping him between her knees and the car. "Then they can say whatever they want."
She shudders with anticipation and drops her cigarette when the last words roll off his tongue in a low, sultry tone.
"You were right," she whispers. "It doesn't have to be weird. It's just the two of us."
"Exactly. Only now, I get to kiss you too."
"I don't think we ever had a rule that said you couldn't kiss me before," she teases.
"Joyce," he hums, drawing her in closer.
"Mhmm?"
"Just shut up and let me kiss you."
He leans down, hands planted on her hips, and brushes his lips against hers. Rocking forward on her toes, Joyce lets her body crash into his, anchoring one hand on his shoulder, the other on the car next to where he's semi-seated. When Hopper reluctantly has to pull back and catch his breath, he rests his nose against hers and closes his eyes, desperately trying to remember everything about the moment.
Joyce initiates the next kiss and quickly their kisses grow sloppy and desperate. The gym door creaks open and a stream of students pour out into the parking lot, forcing the young couple to pull apart. Joyce props herself up against the hood of the car next to Hopper and asks him for a new cigarette, which he lights and hands to her. They joke about some of their clearly intoxicated classmates who have stumbled out of the gymnasium and Hopper places his arm around Joyce's shoulders. When he's certain the rowdy bunch hanging out near the door have returned to the dance, he leans over and steals another kiss.
"What was the for?" she laughs.
"Because I can."
"There you are!" Benny's voice rings through the air. Hopper pulls his gaze away from Joyce and finds Benny staring at the two of them with a smirk.
"Oh, hey Joyce."
"Hi," she waves.
"I wasn't interrupting , was I?"
"What do you want, Benny?" Hopper asks.
"Just wanted to see if you two wanted to join us for something to eat," he informs them. His stare drifts down to where Hopper's thumb is caressing Joyce's shoulder and he adds, "unless you had other plans."
"I promised I would get Joyce home before curfew," Hopper lies.
"Right," Benny smirks, "Next time then. You look nice Joyce."
"Thanks. You too."
"You make sure to take care of my boy here," he tells her.
"She always does," Hopper says on her behalf.
"I'm sure she does," Benny mutters beneath his breath. The comment earns him a glare from Hopper but Joyce doesn't appear to have heard him.
"Anyways, I'll let you two enjoy your night," he waves. About damn time, he thinks to himself while he walks away.
"Hop, no one's home. I don't have a curfew?" Joyce looks at him confused.
"I know, but I don't want to have to share you with anyone tonight. Now, you owe me a dance before we get out of here."
"I never said anything about a dance."
"One dance?"
"Fine."
"Let's go."
Back inside the gym, Hopper leads Joyce to the dance floor and places both hands on her hips. Following his lead, she clasps her hands behind his neck and lets him move them to the music. She's vaguely aware of her classmates staring and buries her face in his neck to avoid their stares.
Their dance is far more intimate than anything Joyce has ever experienced and the feeling frightens her. As soon as the song ends, she panics and asks Hopper if he can drive her home. He nods and doesn't press her for the reason.
He can tell her mind is racing on the drive home. She's suddenly distant, staring out the window and fiddling with her thumbs. He reaches for her hand and gives her palm a gentle squeeze, his silent way of telling her that whatever it was that was bothering her wasn't worth it.
When they arrive at her house, he cuts the engine and leans over to kiss her. Instinctually, she withdrawals and he pulls back looking hurt.
"Joyce? What's wrong? What happened?"
She's quiet for a moment before she softly speaks.
"Why?"
"Why what?" he asks.
"Why do you want this, me, so badly?" She's voicing her insecurities and a huge part of him is grateful she feels comfortable enough to do so.
"Because I know you don't want to believe this but you're everything to me."
"Everything?"
"Everything." He nods.
"Yes," she says after a moment.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, I'll be your date to the dance."
"Are you feeling alright Joy? We just came from the dance."
"In your note, you said that you wanted me to agree to go to the dance with you because you wanted to date me," she explains. "Doesn't that mean if I agree to go with you I'm agreeing to dating you?"
"But you already went to the dance with me," he laughs.
"Well then now I'm agreeing to the second part."
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Hop?"
"Yeah?"
"Stop talking before I change my mind."
Darling, you're the one I want, and
I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this