Trust I seek and I find in you / Every day for us something new / Open mind for a different view / And nothing else matters...

Eddie hoped nobody else had spotted the tremor in his hand as he reached for his beer and brought the bottle to his lips. Harrington's living room was packed with people to the point where anybody noticing would be unlikely, but he tightened his grip on the glass, steadying himself just in case. He leaned forward to set the bottle back down and grab his tobacco tin from the coffee table before falling back against the couch cushions to roll.

A large and lanky body fell next to him, knocking tobacco out of the tin onto his lap.

'You can't smoke in here, man,' Harrington shouted over the music, grinning and swaying slightly, not exactly drunk but not exactly sober.

Eddie cursed under his breath, picking up the bits of stray tobacco that had escaped their confines with the very tips of his fingers. Fuck. Now his hands were going to smell. He normally tried to avoid touching the baccy where possible, strangely enough hating the stink that lingered on bare skin.

'I know, dude, I'll take it outside,' he yelled back. He licked the paper and sealed the roll-up before tucking it behind his ear and slapping the tin closed. He stood up, followed by Harringon, to put the tin in his back pocket and - he couldn't help it - shot a glance at the couple that had pissed him off. Glared at them momentarily through his hair before pulling himself together, draining the last of his beer.

'What's that prick doing here?' he asked.

Harrington followed his gaze and his own usually unfailing smile dropped, his face twisting into a scowl that looked unwelcome on his features.

'Came with the rest of them,' he said, gesturing towards a flock of green letterman jackets huddled round a keg. Like flies on shit.

'Right,' Eddie said.

'I can't kick 'em out, man, they're not making any trouble.'

Eddie raised a sardonic eyebrow and Harrington acquiesced.

'Right, for now,' he agreed. 'But for now, I'd rather not make a scene. It'll be fine. The moment they start anything, we'll get rid of 'em, okay?'

Eddie glanced over again at Jason, the pinched and supposedly handsome face that belonged to the prick who had essentially organised a lynch mob set on seeing him hung, drawn and quartered not six months ago. He knew Steve was right - no point making trouble where there is none - but he didn't have to be happy about it. Especially not considering who he was talking to where he stood in the dining room.

Looking over the throng of teenaged heads from his vantage point by the coffee table, Eddie could see the very top of a silky red ponytail and, when the crowd parted enough, albeit briefly, for him to see through the bodies, he spotted figure-hugging blue denims and the back of a cream, thick-knitted cardigan. He'd know the back of that particular head of hair anywhere. It had been in the kitchen in his trailer just two weeks ago, dipping to grab another beer from the refrigerator beneath the mug-tree on the countertop.

'For you,' Chrissy said, shunting the fridge door closed with her hip as she held out a bottle for him.

'Jeez, aren't you the height of generosity, offering me one of my own beers,' Eddie snarked. Chrissy quirked an eyebrow at him in response as she settled into the corner of the couch, stretching out her legs to nudge her feet - swaddled in what looked like the cosiest socks imaginable - at the top of his thigh. 'Seriously, anybody would think you liked it here, for all the time you spend on my couch.'

'I do like it here,' she rebuffed. 'Although the company leaves a little to be desired…'

Eddie stuck out his tongue before taking a swig. Chrissy did the same. This is how they often spent their Friday nights, together at Eddie's trailer. His uncle worked the night shift on Fridays, Harrington had dinner with his family without fail, and he knew that the Dustin and the rest of the kids still had their own private D&D campaign meetings in the Wheelers' basement. Nancy would be with Robin, Jonathan would either be with them or doing his own thing at home, and so Eddie and Chrissy were the only two left. Sometimes they'd go for a drive, coasting the country roads where you could drive extra fast with the windows down and music blaring, not seeing another pair of headlights approaching for half an hour at a time; sometimes they'd go see a movie, Eddie breaking into his wad of ill-gotten cash to cover both their tickets, despite Chrissy's protests. And sometimes, they'd hang out at Eddie's, because it was empty and free, and because there was a cassette player and Chrissy's musical background was, in Eddie's words, 'distinctly lacking and embarrassingly uncultured'. That had earned him a flying cushion to the face and Chrissy had secretly braided his hair when he'd nodded off in the early hours, an adornment he had fortunately spotted before leaving the house to collect from Reefer Rick's.

'I'm plenty desirable,' Eddie countered.

'So desirable you have nobody else to hang out with on a Friday night,' Chrissy scoffed.

'I'm exactly where I wanna be, baby,' he drawled, grinning. Chrissy rolled her eyes. 'Besides, I don't see any other options queuing up to keep you busy week in, week out. What's that about? Cool kids finally kick you out for hanging with' - air quotes - 'the freak?'

That scored another eye roll, but also a glossy, lopsided smile.

'No,' she said. 'I don't know. I guess… I guess I used to spend every Friday night with Jason.' Eddie wrinkled his nose in distaste, which she spotted. 'Hey, be fair, at least he's not my boyfriend anymore.'

'Okay, okay - boyfriend, Friday nights. Drive-in movie, Lover's Lake, snaky arm stretch yawn over the shoulder, I get it. I don't need to hear the gory details,' he joked, ignoring the stale feeling in his stomach every time Jason was brought up. Which wasn't often, to be fair to Chrissy.

'Hey, no, I didn't mean that-' Chrissy tried to argue, but Eddie pushed her feet - gently - off his legs so he could stand and pace the room, pushing his fingers into his ears and screwing his eyes shut so he could la la la in an exaggerated fashion.

'Eddie, come on-' Chrissy was laughing, sunk low in the corner of the couch and stretching her legs out to swipe at his knees with her socked feet every time he paced close enough.

'I'm not listening!'

'Eddie!'

'La la la la la la-'

She finally lobbed a scatter cushion at him, one in his uncle's surprisingly feminine tastes, which swept past his head, catching a few tendrils of hair as it passed and narrowly missing the antenna on the TV. Eddie grinned as he plopped back down in his seat, reaching for his beer, Chrissy still choking back gulps of laughter.

'No,' she finally managed.

'No?' he said absently, sipping his beer and swilling it round his mouth before swallowing.

'Eddie,' she said. She was looking at him as if to communicate something. Her cheeks were a startling shade of pink. 'I mean… no… like really no…'

Eddie felt his eyebrows raise a fraction beneath his fringe and his mouth pop open slightly before he regained his composure.

'Really no?' he repeated. Chrissy shook her head quickly. 'No Lover's Lake? No snaky arm stretch yawn over the shoulder?'

'No snaky arm stretch yawn over the shoulder,' she confirmed, her face furiously flushed. Eddie smiled widely.

'Well, smack my sweet little ass - our very own resident cool kid, Chrissy Cunningham - a virgin, as I live and breathe. Wait-' he held his hands to his face, in faux distress - 'does the cheer squad know?'

'Oh, piss off!' Chrissy sipped on her own beer. Her words were annoyed but a smile played at her mouth, the tip of her tongue coming to the edge of her canine teeth. Eddie felt flushed himself, that wonderful swooping sensation of the stomach leaving him feeling oddly giddy. Not because Chrissy was a virgin, no, that would be weird, and he had no reason to care whether his friend had had sex or not - because that's what Chrissy was, his friend - no, he was happy because… because that was one part that Jason hadn't taken from her.

'For real, though, how does that happen?' Eddie asked, reaching for her socked feet again to place them in his lap. 'You were going for, like, a year, weren't you?'

'Yeah,' Chrissy said. 'He didn't want to.'

The closest Eddie had ever got to a genuine spit-take.

'He didn't want to? What, is he Catholic or something? Didn't know about God's blind spot?'

'No,' Chrissy said quietly, her tone bitter. 'He had - y'know - before. And I wanted to. He just didn't want to… with me.'

'With you? Why the fuck not?'

Chrissy shrugged.

'Hard to say. The reason always seemed to change. Too tired, too much homework, too much studying to do.'

'That's bullshit.'

'No,' Chrissy said, soft still. 'No, that would've been fine, at least if it was true. Because it kept changing, you know? He, umm…' She was looking down at the bottle in her lap, picking at the paper label around the glass, so Eddie couldn't see her face, but her voice quavered.

'Chrissy, do you-'

'It's fine, it's fine,' she said. 'He just, um… we'd planned to try over Spring Break, my parents were out of town so we'd have the house to ourselves. Marisa was having a pool party, so we were going to go to that and then go back to my place afterwards and, well, he saw me… in my bathing suit. A two-piece. And he didn't want to after that. Didn't say why. He must have not liked what he saw and that's why he didn't want to… well, you know.' She looked up and smiled a sad, hurt little smile. She wasn't crying but her eyes looked glassy, like she'd cried about this too many times already to do it again.

Eddie looked at her incredulously. He did not understand. He knew that girls generally had a harder time with their bodies but fuck. All Chrissy should have to do was look at her reflection in the mirror to realise that whatever problem that utter fuckwit had was not because of her, but yet again, this fucking sweaty jock strap's inability to communicate beyond the neanderthals' level of intelligence had her doubting herself. It broke his heart and filled it with fury in one fell swoop.

'Well, that's fuckin' bullshit,' he said, slamming his beer down on the side table next to him.

'I'm sorry?'

'I said it's bullshit. Fuckin'. Bullshit. If he had a problem with the way you look, he needs to see his eye doctor. Or he likes dudes. Or he doesn't like anybody. I mean, look at you.'

Chrissy had gone pink again.

'Eddie, come on, I know I'm not, y'know, hot. I know guys don't look at me like that-'

'Are you kidding me? Chrissy fucking Cunningham, not fucking hot? Are you really saying these words? Of course guys look at you like that! I'll bet that even ancient old Mr Davison looks at you like that and feels like a pervert for it. Fuck, even I look at you like that-' Chrissy's eyes widened and he hastened to cover his metaphorical ass - 'I mean, I have done, previously, before we were friends, y'know.'

He'd never been very good at lying and he hoped to whatever deity happened to be looking down at that precise moment that she wouldn't see through it.

'You don't have to lie to make me feel better, Ed, it's fine,' she said, and he nearly growled in frustration.

'I'm not lying to make you feel better,' he exclaimed. Oh, the irony. 'Honestly, if I could tell you how many times I'd -' he searched for a less unsavoury way to say it - 'thought about you in the shower, or thought about you in the locker rooms, or thought about you, er, you know-' he stretched his mouth out in a grimace and flung an exaggerated but very brief glance at the apex between her legs.

Chrissy was laughing. This was good, she was laughing, her lovely little face lighting up with that sparkly joy she brought with her.

'But, um… I guess it would be weird if I did that now, you know, now that we're friends,' he said, absently curling his fingers across the tops of her socks. He felt her toes flex slightly at his touch.

'So… not anymore?' she asked, her voice quiet again. Not sad this time but - dare he think it - curious. Wondering.

He took a long, slow, deep breath in, huffing it back out quickly through his nose. He'd had a few beers and this was his friend, he could be honest… right?

'Well… not never anymore,' he said. His hand had wandered of its own accord to her ankle, fingertips resting against the bare skin beneath the hem of her leggings. It was warm. 'I am still a man. Can't help whatever image flies into my head during the throes of solo passion, y'know.'

He shot her a smirk and wondered at her expression. Her brow was furrowed, the same face she pulled when she was working out which chess move to play next. He curled his fingers over her socks again before awkwardly patting her feet.

'But, er… enough about that - I'm just saying you have nothing to worry about in that department, y'know. Solid 10.' He sipped his beer, looking away, feeling increasingly awkward as her silence stretched out seemingly infinitely until-

'What image?'

He gulped his beer down. 'Say what?' He knew what. For fuck's sake, Eddie, you and your big mouth.

'What image?' she asked again, a subtle and thoroughly adorable blush creeping across her cheeks at asking such a brazen question. 'You said you can't help what image flies into your head. I'm asking, what image?'

Eddie felt his own face flush with heat as he flipped through any number of compromising - yet entirely involuntary - fantasies that may or may not have involved the girl in front of him and considered describing them directly to her face.

'Nope,' he said with a smirk, rubbing his jaw. 'Absolutely not.'

'Eddie, come on, tell me!'

'No way, babe,' he shook his head. 'Let me keep my dignity.'

'Eddie, if it involves me-'

He stood swiftly as he drained his beer, striding round the debris of the evening that littered the floor to place the bottle with the rest, letting Chrissy continue to chatter. He turned to face her, resting his hip on the countertop and crossing his arms over his chest, his face wearing something between a smile and a grimace.

'Don't look at me like that!' she laughed.

'Like what?' he asked, feigning innocence.

'Like that!' She stood too and reached him in seconds, her eyes so wide and bright that he knew he'd cave if he looked into them for too long. He looked anyway. 'Why won't you tell me?'

He let his eyes drop down her body, his eyelids heavy as his smirk fell from his face. Slowly, he followed the contours of her body up - her fluffy-socked feet, her shapely legs in her cotton leggings, loose-fitting crew-neck in navy blue and that damned oversized cream cardigan that fell past her delicate wrists; the small expanse of golden skin, beneath a tiny silver necklace, that swathed the top of her chest and dipped with her collarbones, her neck, her jaw - taking her in. Looking at her like that. He never let himself look at her like that.

She watched his eyes creep up her body, her skin prickling deliciously with every additional second that he drank her in. He dropped his arms from across his chest and slipped his hands into the pockets on the seat of his denims, before taking the slightest step towards her, closing that significant gap between them. He slowly bent his face towards hers. Barely, he heard Chrissy suck in a small intake of breath as he watched her bottom lip dip slightly from the top one as her jaw slackened. He looked from that lower lip to her wide eyes, and back again and back again, seeing the brown in hers darken as her pupils blew, and then, gleeful, he whispered:

'No.'

'You bastard!' Chrissy snapped out of it as quickly as he had, cracking a wide smile and hitting him on the shoulder with the loose sleeve of her cardigan, and Eddie of course smiled back just as big.

'You okay, man?' Steve's voice snapped Eddie back to reality, an ill-disguised glare on his features.

'Yeah,' he said, pulling his away from the couple in the kitchen. 'Gonna go make use of this, I'll see ya in a few.'

He saw Steve look momentarily perplexed as he walked away abruptly, before shrugging and rejoining the party. Eddie pushed through the throng of people, away from the noise and the smell of sweaty, hot bodies clamouring each other and away from Chrissy and Jason, finally reaching Steve's ludicrously ornate front door and breaching the fresh air outside. A few steps further and he reached the garden wall; he leaned against it and brought his cigarette and lighter to his lips, cupping the embers against the night air to try and light it.

The fucker wouldn't work - of course it didn't, because why would it? A few more clicks but nothing, not even a spark. He flung it onto the gravel.

'Fuck this, man,' he said to nobody, tucked the roll-up back behind his ear and accepted defeat, turning and walking and leaving the party - and Chrissy - behind him. Fine.