DIANE

"Get in." He ordered. But she crossed her arms tighter and walked faster, like she was going to out-walk his Camero. "You know how this goes, right? Get in or I'll throw you in."

After staring at him with suspicious for a moment she stumbled, righted herself, and made her way to his car. Why did he always have to be such a jerk and force himself to gain the upper-hand, instead of just asking like a normal human. Maybe he was trying to avoid rejection by not having it be a card on the table at all. As she tried crawling in through the open window Billy looked at her. "Christ, why have you been drinking like tonight was the last time you'd ever get a drop of booze?"

He got out of his seat, not bothering to slam his door shut. In the early hours of the morning Hawkins was dead. Sliding his hand around the petite girls waist he opened the door and wrestled her in. Just as he was about to shut the door he paused, then leaned in, reaching over her and putting on the seatbelt. "Thanks." She muttered.

Billy said nothing, getting into his side and slamming his door shut, pealing down the road. The smell of burnt rubber filled the car. "You're an idiot."

"Takes one to know one."

He seemed about to throw her a scathing remark at her childish antics, but instead shook his head harshly and lit a cigarette.

She looked down between their seats. "I-I'm sorry. I just wanted to forget. I think. I don't . . . remember what I wanted anymore."

"Cheers to forgetting." He muttered.

"Aren't you drunk? We shouldn't be driving. You shouldn't be driving." She said.

He snorted. "That water beer back there? Haven't had something that weak for years."

Years. He was eighteen. How long had he been drinking hard liquor for? Weren't his parents concerned?

"Drunk driving is illegal." She muttered.

"So are a lot of things. Doesn't stop 'em from happening." Diane missed his bitter tone, getting lost in her own beer-soaked brain. They drove the rest of the way with some rock radio blasting. The road was pitch black. Close to her house she realised she hadn't given him any directions. But apparently he had memorised where she lived from the last time.

"I'm going to tell the police about what we saw the other night." Said Diane.

"Sounds like a fan-fucking-tastic idea. You going to start confessing with that stray mutt dunked in a Chernobyl reactor runnin' around bothering Hawkins residents first, or how you and I were under the bleachers after school hours?" The speedometer began crawling upwards. "Sounds like a winning case. Make sure to tell them the Russians are involved, while you're at it."

"What is your problem?" She snapped at him. "You have no reason to drive me home like you're some nice respectable guy-"

"Like Harrington?" He mocked and she felt her heart tighten; that comment was a low blow.

Feigning apathy she shrugged. "You don't care about demon-dog, clearly. Oh, wait. No. This will have been a waste of effort then. "

Driving her home just because it increased his chances of getting laid was an absolute waste of time. Instead of giving her a snappy comment like she expected for calling him out, he looked over at her calmly. He had that look on again, where his lips curled gracefully upwards and his lids lulled in attraction. With beer goggled firmly lodged to her face, she couldn't help but admit she found the appeal when he looked at her like that; it sent a thrill up her spine. But she also knew he wore those types of masks with expertise and she wasn't quite buying it.

"I think you're hot, sue me."

"No, you don't." She answered immediately.

"Do you really think so low of yourself that you can't see guys here wanting to fuck you is actually a possibility?" There was that drawl again, the one that sent a wave of frustration through her.

"I think you're playing an angle," she answered, "you always are, otherwise it wouldn't be so easy for you to slip between charming and douchey so effortlessly."

The ride had sobered her up, a little. Enough that she could take off her own seatbelt, get out of the car and walked up to the front of the house. As she went into the house she didn't realise he had followed her in, until she was in the living room. But he wasn't looking at her, he was analysing her whole house with thinly veiled contempt. Maybe he found the Doblers decor distasteful. Or maybe he was jealous. He drove a Camero, didn't he have money? Maybe he had stolen it. She wouldn't put it past him.

"I can't believe what happened back there." She said suddenly.

He turned around and looked at her. "What the hell are you on about now?"

"The way everyone turned on him."

Billy picked up a large crystal from the coffee table and examined in with raised eyebrows, like he found the whole object obnoxious. "That's the way mobs work sweetheart, they target the weak, set a hierarchy."

She wrinkled her nose at his words. It was morally wrong. And his words were so thoughtless. But maybe she had helped set the hierarchy too, by just walking away. Maybe Billy understood the world better than she did. No, that wasn't true. Steve had ruled their school for years, even over the other older students at the time. He hadn't done it through force. Sure he had been arrogant and stuck-up, but he hadn't been needlessly aggressive like Billy was.

Billy was walking around, eyeing the room, seemingly memorising the layout and accounting for all the items. While he didn't strike her as someone who robbed houses, she wouldn't put some petty theft behind him. He sniffed. "So, you and Harrington, huh?"

"For someone who seems to hate him so much you talk about him an awful lot."

Apparently he took that as an acceptance as he snorted. His expression was mocking now. "I bet he held your hands, and looked you in the eyes, and told you how much he cared about you. Bet he made sure to keep a couple bibles between the both of you."

"Can you put that down?" She asked, eyeing the crystal warily. Her parents had taken it back from one of their trips, and told her that of course she wasn't allowed to touch it. She supposed it could break into a million pieces.

A grin formed on his face and he licked his lips. Walking towards her, he held up the object to ensure she couldn't reach it. "Scared I'm going to steal it, Princess Diane?"

"I'm worried you'll break it." He stood in front of her now, the same sardonic grin on his face he always seemed to have, with his telltale dash of recklessness glinting in his eyes. Against better judgement she reaches up anyway, determined to put it back on the table, and she uses his leather sleeve as leverage. And as she reaches up she realises just how close she is to him as their eyes locked.

And she's not sure who initiated it, but they're kissing now and she's kissing him back. For a split second he seems surprised, like he had expected her to just push him away. Burning heat raced through her veins; the last thing on her mind was stopping. His lips was rough and unrelenting not unlike Simons had been, but this sent a thrill up her spine. She supposed because unlike Simon, Billy seemed to have no real intention at all; everything was impulsive. And instead of wanting to break away from his demanding lips, she wanted more. She reached out.

Her hands were roaming his bare chest and then ran down to his abs. The crystal tumbled out of his hand and hit the ground with a thud. He was still sweaty from the party and his skin was cold to the touch but she found she didn't care at all. She was too busy exploring. He wrapped his arms around her, yanking her tightly to him until she was pressed up against his body.

She wrestled him out of leather jacket which he helped with, aggressively shrugging out of it, never breaking contact with Diane. It fell onto the floor and he kicked it further behind him.

His hand ran beneath her untucked shirt, skimming the soft skin of her torso and cupped her breast over her bra. Their breathing turned heavy. She arched into his hand as his finger began brushing over the center.

Her hands wound themselves into his hair, pulling him closer still. Absent-mindedly she noticed his hair was still damp from all the beer sprayed at the party. His hair was as unruly and wild as he was. She was enveloped in the scent of beer, cigarettes and his spiced cologne. Instead of being off-putting as he had been earlier, she was trying to get as close as she could. His lips left her, kissing a hasty trail from the corner of her lips to her neck. He attacked her throat.

He was going to leave a hickey. In that moment she didn't care. She had never had one, and the fascination with what it'd look like her on her neck was a much more pressing thought than the ramifications in the morning. In fact that thought only surfaced for a brief second before being washed away. Then she stumbled slightly, losing orientation for a moment.

Suddenly he stopped and pulled back. He looked exasperated. And vexed. "You're fucking wasted." Billy muttered. She felt his heart thudding in his chest. Her cheeks were a light pink and lips swollen, but her eyes bordered on glassy and focused. After a moment he sighed heavily and then picked her up, cradling her. As he began walking upstairs she instantly wrapped her arms around his neck, and rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes. Everything was spinning so fast it turned into a blur. "You tell anyone what I'm doing and I'll kill you, got it?"

"Mhm." She answered. "What are you doing?"

Billy found her bedroom easily, nudging open her door with his foot and dumping her unceremoniously on the bed. "I'm a piece of shit. But I'm not that kind of shit-stain."

He nudged a pillow her way, before throwing himself onto her rocking chair with the pale pink blanket draped over it.

He grinned, "You won't even remember this in a few hours. Bet you'll spend all that time in that pretty little head of yours wandering how you got home. It'll be devastating for you to learn you were brought home by me. At school on Monday I'll tell you you were grovelling to bring me home."

"That's so lame. You're lame." She wasn't really paying attention to his words. As soon as he got mocking she had begun to tune out, little by little. Letting it be white noise.

He lit a cigarette, taking a long drag and closing his eyes. "You tell me that a lot."

"Please don't smoke in my room."

"Why? Your parent's gonna ground you somethin'? I don't see them anywhere." He looked around, pretending to see if he could spot her parents.

"I know," she sighed, "They're never here. But house rules."

A moment later he was standing up and opening her window, peering out over the forest and the houses lit up in the distance. It was almost like he didn't know what to do with himself. The cigarette danced between his fingers. His next words seemed absent-minded, and she wondered how drunk he was. "Fucking wish my parents were never here."

"Oh, what are you parents like?"

He whirled around, face hard, throwing the half-lit cigarette out the window. "I don't ask questions about your home life, don't ask questions about mine."

Diane struggled to sit up. "That's not true. You do ask. In fact, you can ask me right now too."

He breathed a laugh. "Why d'you think I'm be interested in you?"

"You keep asking questions, so you have to be somewhat interested."

Billy had switched into another mood faster than she had time to draw her next breath. It was that mood she couldn't get quite describe yet, somewhere between sardonic and embittered. "So, where are they?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Somewhere in the U.S."

"You don't know?"

"No. They never tell me anything." She knew telling Billy anything was a bad move, in both the short and long run. But she couldn't stop talking, the alcohol had the words pouring out of her mouth before she even realised she was speaking. "They only called me to yell at me for getting in trouble at school. It doesn't matter who did what, if I'm in trouble then I'm in trouble and that's my fault."

"Your parents give you everything and leave you alone. Am I supposed to shed a tear over you being a spoiled little princess all locked up and cozy in her tower?" His arms were crossed, and he leaned against the wall, eyes cast down on her.

She glared at him as best as she could under the circumstances. "I never asked for sympathy. And in case you didn't notice, you asked me, so I don't know what answer you were expecting."

They sat in silence for a while.

"Taking me home was really nice of you."

"Don't mention it. Seriously, don't." He drawled. With a bored expression and slouched against the wall with a boot up and arms crossed he looked like the poster boy of apathy. All of it together was too much, and she realised he was feigning it. That thought nearly sent a wave of laughing coursing through her. Her earnest gratitude for his help didn't fit his rebel without a cause attitude and he didn't know what to deal with it. There was always a transaction in those forms of flattery like gratitude, except she wasn't seeking for anything.

"I promise I won't say that the big bad boy from California has signs of a heart." She rolled over. "Your secret is safe with me."

"I don't do any of that pansy shit, okay? You being drunk doesn't that change." He snapped, the lighter flame went off and on again, off and on. But it sort of did, when he had no obligation to help her. She had turned in their assignment today at school, it wasn't like he had to worry she'd die and bury him beneath an avalanche of papers.

Slowly she crawled over to him and gave him an affectionate smile. She struggled to sit up in the bed. "You know you're tough as nails, and super . . . " Man, what was that word she was looking for? Come on, brain. Function just a little bit longer tonight. " . . . You're a protector. You protected me at the school. And you protect Maxine." As her older brother - sorry, step-brother - she presumed he protected her, in his own brash way.

He looked down at her in suspicion. If he was expecting her to say she had been joking, or if he was waiting to find a teasing tone in her words he would have to wait for a very long time. But she knew Billy enough to know that he was a firecracker that could be ignited at the smallest provocation. Letting him see her interpretation of him would be enough to cage him and have him spitting fire at her. So she slid back into bed and closed her eyes, biting back a groan. Why was the bed spinning too? Alcohol was bad.

"Her name's Max." He finally said. "She hates being called Maxine."

She forced her eyes open. Billy was working his way through another cigarette. "If I promise not to say anything, can you stay? I keep seeing that thing when I'm awake, and when I'm asleep it chases me and when I fall and it leaps, then I wake up and can't fall asleep again." She confessed.

He eyed her with deep mistrust and he exhaled forcefully in exasperation. Then he began kicking off his boots. He sat on the bed, resting against the headboard. He took out his lighter, flicking it on and off. "No one knows I stayed over, or you might find yourself run over by my car. And don't even think of taking advantage of me in my sleep."

She laughed. The beer was coaxing her towards a deep slumber and her eyes slid shut. "You know, I take it back. You're not a douchebag. I don't know what else you are, Billy, but I know you're a good person."

BILLY

The lighter cap opening and closing sped up before he finally spun out of the bed. Diane didn't even notice the shift in weight. He stared at her for a moment before shoving his hands in his jean pockets and heading off. Suddenly her room had become claustrophobic and the unconscious blonde had become oppressively overbearing. The faint smell of ivory soap, vanilla and cinnamon had begun choking him. Despite her nerdy ways and reclusive tendencies, Diane wasn't an idiot. She was right, he was playing an angle. Except, for a good, long minute he had forgotten himself he was playing at all.

He felt like he was back in his room after a storm had broken out. Except he was in a girls room, and Diane hadn't sworn at him, hadn't yelled at him, hadn't lashed out. Still, his breathing had become shallow as he slammed her front door, getting hit with the fresh night air, and slid into his car. For a moment everything had felt too comfortable, and any time he got comfortable it was violently shattered, reminding him just who the hell he was. He didn't need to wait for an axe to drop; he'd swing it himself.

For a second he sat, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles whitened, then the engine roared to life. As he sped away he didn't drive towards his house, or any destination at all. The window was down, blowing the icy wind straight at him until his eyes watered. The road blurred. Instead of rolling up the window or slowing down his foot pressed the pedal harder. He sped up even more when he realised he had forgotten his jacket at Doblers. Fuck, he'd have to collect it tomorrow. There was no way she'd hear him at her front door no matter how hard he banged or hollered.

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