While most schools have Mystery-Meat Mondays, Hawkins High has the only thing that's probably worse: Mystery Meat Wednesdays.
Basically, every week the cafeteria lady takes all the meat that isn't finished on Monday, freezes it during Tator Tots Tuesday (the best day), and finally defrosts it again on Wednesday.
Having the congealed, sad excuse for a lunch once a week already sucks. Having it twice is just cruel and unusual punishment.
As Will stands in the cafeteria line and watches the lunch lady spoon a lukewarm slop of two-day-old meat onto his tray, he feels his stomach lurch. The sloppy smack it makes when it hits his plate is somehow even worse than the food looks, which Will honestly didn't think was possible.
Before Jonathan left to study at Indiana University, he'd always made jokes about how high school was basically a prison. As Will grabs a box of apple juice and exits the lunch line, he realizes that Jonathan was definitely wrong about that, at least in one respect: prison food would be far better than this.
Will's so busy examining his lunch that he nearly walks right into a trio of girls. He's trying to make his way out of the cafeteria and to the auditorium, but they're in his way, too distracted in aimless chatter to notice him approaching them.
As their paths cross, Will comes close to stepping on their feet, which causes them to pull back in alarm.
"Hey!" One of the girls snaps brashly, "Watch it!"
"I'm sorry!" Will pales, backing up, "I wasn't looking—"
But his apologies fall on deaf ears. The girls give him dirty scowls before walking off to another corner of the cafeteria. As they walk away, Will hears sharply whispered words prickle against his ears.
"What a freak!"
Will, unable to stop himself, feels his breath hitch. His throat tightens as he grips his tray harder.
It's okay, he assures himself, They just called you a freak, like everyone else does. It wasn't fairy or fag or...anything else...anything worse...
Even though the only people Will's come out to are his loved ones, he can't help but feel like everyone else knows somehow. Whenever he walks into school, it seems like there's practically a big, flashing neon sign above his head, pointing out just how different he is.
Will forces himself to take a deep, steadying breath.
You're just being paranoid, he tells himself, nobody knows and besides, there's nothing wrong with you, so even if they did—
"Will?"
The voice is quiet, yet it still audibly pierces through Will's consciousness, startling him. His eyes fly open, glancing around the area before he finally locates the source of the voice.
El is sitting at the edge of a table only a foot or two away from him. Despite all the available chairs at her table, she's seated alone. Unsurprisingly, she hasn't touched much of her lunch. As she looks over at Will, eyes wide with concern, he realizes that she probably witnessed his entire interaction with the other three girls.
Great.
"Hey, El," he greets, smiling nervously.
"Hi," El replies, giving him a small smile in return.
Will's brow furrows as he takes in the sight of her empty table. "What are you doing?" He inquires in confusion.
El glances down at her food. "Eating lunch?"
"By yourself?"
"Who else?" El mumbles wryly.
"With us!" Will replies with ease.
El is a little taken aback, but flattered. "Oh," she replies sheepishly.
Even though her first band practice had gone well yesterday (well, as in: she didn't make a complete fool of herself), she still didn't know what they thought of her. Was she just their coworker? Their acquaintance? Their only-on-Tuesday's friend?
She gets her answer when Will smiles at her and replies, "We're friends now, you gotta come sit with us."
El looks around the cafeteria. "Where?"
"Oh, we don't eat in here," Will explains.
"I can see why," El mutters, glancing in the direction of the three girls.
For a flashing moment, Will starts to feel that anxiety-ridden feeling tighten his gut, but he forces himself to shake it off.
"Yeah," he manages to reply, "Where we eat is...better than this."
El perks up at this and proceeds to rise from her seat. She takes her lunch tray and stands beside Will, looking excited. "Let's go then!" She smiles, giving him a playful nudge.
Her positivity is infectious, and as Will leads El out of the cafeteria, he feels his anxiety begin to slowly ebb away. Despite this, there are a few moments of hesitant silence as the pair walks through the hallways together, each debating how to start a conversation.
El finally breaks the silence by glancing down at her tray. "So, what is this supposed to be?" She asks, only half-joking.
"Mystery Meat," Will replies, crinkling his nose.
"Like what we had on Monday?"
"Like, the exact same thing, just reheated."
El mimics Will's expression of disgust as she sticks her tongue out. "Gross!"
"Very," Will nods, "Our lunches are never that good here."
"The lunches at my old school weren't either," El contends.
It's kind of a silly thing to take note of, but as Will turns to look at El, he notices that they're the same height. It's something he's not quite used to; while the rest of his friends experienced growth spurts throughout the past summers, he'd still stayed…well, small. It's nice to not have to crane his neck back so much. "Do you miss your old school?"
"Not really. I didn't have any friends." El winces as soon as she's spoken. She shouldn't have admitted that. Will is probably going to think she's super lame.
Thankfully, Will doesn't judge her, at least not outwardly. "Well, it's a good thing you've got us!" He remarks cheerily.
El throws him a grateful smile. The unfamiliar feeling of acceptance swells within her, leaving her elatedly giddy. She has friends, actual friends who invite her to eat lunch with them and let her hang out with them! She wishes she had a better way to express all the happy feelings bursting within her, to really show how grateful she is that they've given her a chance, but she knows that'd probably seem really weird.
"Thanks for letting me join the band," she settles for.
"Thanks for auditioning!" Will returns, "We're really going to be so much better with you here."
"When did you start the band?" El asks curiously.
"When we were 14," Will replies, smiling as he thinks back to that summer. It, like all of the summers they'd spent together, was full of happy memories that seemed to radiate with a golden warmth. Mornings spent biking to Mike's house for breakfasts of Eggo waffles and fresh strawberries. Afternoons spent scrounging through thrift stores and pawn shops for instruments. Evenings spent learning to play said instruments, with mixed results. Late nights spent sprawled out on the grass in Mike's backyard, watching the stars and predicted how famous their band was going to be someday.
"It was kind of Mike's idea," Will says as he refocuses himself on the present conversation, "To start the band, I mean."
El knows it's stupid, but just hearing Mike's name mentioned makes her heart skip a beat. She really needs to get a hold of herself.
"Oh," She replies casually.
"Yeah," Will smiles. He pauses for a moment, then turns to look at El inquisitively, "Speaking of Mike—"
El's heart skips several times now. She feels like she's probably going to flatline if she doesn't calm down, but she can't help herself. When she thinks of Mike, she goes right back to those moments in Radio Shack. The way he'd ran a hand through his hair, the way he smiled at her, the way his eyes seemed to brighten when he saw her. There was something there, something potentially beautiful and wonderful, El just knew.
But then again, maybe she was just crazy. That was always a possibility.
"What about Mike?" El questions eagerly.
"Are you excited for your guitar lessons tomorrow?"
Excited, maybe, but if El's going to be honest, she feels pretty terrified. Not just because of the whole crush-thing, but also because of the she-doesn't-want-to-screw-up thing.
"I'm a little nervous," El admits.
"Why?" Will frowns.
"I just don't want to let you guys down," El explains, "Dustin and Lucas said I need to know how to play an instrument."
"I wouldn't worry about them," Will deflects, shaking his head, "They're just being hard on you."
"I know," El sighs, "But...I want them to like me."
"They do!" Will insists, though as the words leave his mouth, the bitter taste of a lie lurks on his tongue. He knows that Lucas and Dustin still aren't thrilled about El joining the band; it was evident in the way they always got so surly and snappish whenever she was around. Will really needs to talk to them about it, but the idea of confronting them (or anyone really) just makes him quite nervous. Maybe he should ask Max or Mike to do it...
Thankfully, they reach the auditorium and Will doesn't have to dwell on these uneasy feelings for long.
The rest of their friends are seated on the stage. Dustin is proudly showing off his ability to balance a spoon on his nose while Lucas looks on skeptically, Mike cheers him on somewhat sarcastically, and Max tries to blow the spoon off.
"Asshole!" Dustin snaps as he pulls back from Max, causing the spoon to clatter to the ground.
"What are you guys doing?" Will calls out as he and El approach the stage.
The band members turn to look over at them, looking surprised to see El.
Mike can't stop himself from grinning as El and Will walk onstage and come to sit beside them. He would invite El to sit by him, but he worries that that'd seem too crush-like. Instead, he settles for throwing her a shy smile as she takes her seat next to Max.
"We were just screwing around," Max shrugs in reply to Will's question, "Dustin wanted to see how long he could balance the spoon."
"I was going to beat my record, too!" Dustin complains, "But then Max ruined it!"
"You should try again!" El suggests, "I'll hold Max back for you!"
"Traitor!" Max smiles, giving El a nudge.
As Dustin eyes El, he feels himself deflate like a popped balloon. Of course, El had to show up here — to their spot.
"That's okay," Dustin mumbles, turning his attention back to his tray of Mystery Meatloaf.
El's smile falters slightly as she feels a chilled tension pass between them.
Mike takes note of this potentially awkward situation and decides to cut in. "So El," he says, giving her a warm smile, "Are you ready for your first guitar lessons tomorrow?"
El smiles back at him. When she's looking into his eyes, it's hard to remember that just a couple minutes ago she was telling Will how nervous she was about the guitar lessons. Nervous? Not her. She's more than willing to be alone with Mike, even if she does embarrass herself in the process.
"I'm ready!" El nods, hoping she sounds more confident than she feels.
"Yeah, you're like, super lucky," Mike continues teasingly, "Do you know how many people would die to get lessons with the lead guitarist of the best band in Hawkins?"
"I'm gonna guess zero," Max snorts.
El snorts and giggles.
Lucas, on the other hand, isn't laughing. He knows Mike's probably just joking around, but his words still leave a bitter feeling in Lucas' gut. He turns to frown at Mike, unable to hide the resentful tinge to his voice. "Wait, what?"
"What do you mean, 'what'?" Mike asks back.
Lucas eyes him carefully, scrutinizingly. "Since when are you the lead guitarist?"
In reality, Lucas knows the answer. He knows Mike's always thought of himself as the lead since the band was technically his idea. He knows that Mike always finds convenient ways to get all the good guitar solos for himself.
He just wants to see if Mike will own up to any of this.
"I dunno," Mike shrugs, "I guess I just assumed."
"Well, we never specifically agreed to that," Lucas reminds him.
"Yeah, I guess not," Mike replies, seemingly indifferent.
Mike's flippancy is driving Lucas crazy. It's belittling, almost — as if Lucas' concerns aren't even worth a second thought to Mike. The tension starts to swell in tenfold as silence settles over the pair, and even though Mike continues to ignore it, Lucas knows that he has to be sensing the uncomfortable nature of the conversation.
Everyone else seems to. Dustin is poking his lunch with his fork, glancing between Mike and Lucas anxiously. Will is chewing on his bottom lip, slightly swaying in place as if he was seated aboard a rocky boat. Max is toying with the ends of her hair distractedly, inadvertently giving herself several split ends.
"Well, I think you both play really good," El offers tentatively, "Practice was great yesterday."
Mike and Lucas both glance over at her, looking a little surprised.
"Uh, thanks," Lucas replies reluctantly.
"Yeah," Mike adds with a small smile.
As everyone returns their attention back to their lunches, the bitter tension seems to dissipate. The rest of the band is just relieved that things have finally blown over.
Mike and Lucas, knowing better, exchange quick, disdainful glances. They both know that whatever's brewing between them isn't quick over, not yet.
Like their terrible lunch, it's simply been pushed aside for another day.
"Are you sure it's just a guitar lesson?" Hopper calls out from the living room.
"What else would it be?" El calls back from her bedroom.
"I dunno," Hopper replies in a tone that reveals he definitely knows, "Like a date?"
El's cheeks flush crimson as she continues to rifle through her closet. "What?!" She exclaims indignantly.
"You just seem to be putting in an awful lot of effort for 'just a guitar lesson,' is all I'm saying."
"I am not!" El huffs.
She totally is.
It's kind of silly, really, since she saw Mike earlier at school today. But now that she's home and waiting until 5:00 rolls around so she can head to Mike's, she's realizing that maybe she should actually try to look nice.
You know, for reasons. Reasons that she doesn't need her dad speculating about.
She pulls out two sweaters from her closet: one pink and one light blue. She bites down on her lower lip as she examines them both skeptically. The pink one is prettier, but she'd already worn it to Radio Shack last week — what if Mike thinks she owns like, no clothes? The blue one is nice enough, but what if it's too...depressing, or something?
When she can't come to a decision, she dashes into the living room.
When El and Hopper moved to Hawkins, they traded their cramped apartment for a slightly more spacious flat. El was still trying to adjust to the change. She didn't have to climb several flights of stairs or take the elevator to enter her home, and there wasn't a fire escape outside of her room to sit on and watch traffic go by. Instead of a kitchenette, they had an actual kitchen, and the living room and dining room were two separate spaces.
The one thing that hasn't changed is that it's still relatively easy for El to dash from her bedroom to her Dad's favorite spot: the living room couch. When El rushes in, he's flipping through the newspaper and smoking a cigarette.
"Which sweater is better?" El asks as she skids to a stop.
Hopper folds over the top edge of his newspaper and eyes her warily. "What?"
"I don't know what to wear," El reiterates, holding up one sweater in each hand, "Pink or blue?"
Hopper raises an eyebrow. "Why does it matter?"
"I want to look nice!"
"For a guitar lesson?"
"Yes!"
When Hopper only continues to give her that skeptical, I-don't-believe-a-single-word-of-what-you're-saying look, El rushes to her own defense.
"I need to look professional," El explains, "Because I'm in a real band now."
(Said 'real' band doesn't write their own music, doesn't have a name, has never played a gig, is pretty much unknown by everyone, and is nowhere near professional, but he doesn't have to know that.)
Hopper continues to look her over for a moment before commenting, "I didn't even know you liked music."
"I like music!" El insists.
"—Or knew how to play an instrument."
"That's what the lessons are for!"
"Private lessons."
"Yes!"
"With a teenage boy."
"His name is Mike!"
"So I've heard."
El drums her foot as she grows increasingly impatient. "Pink or blue?"
They hold each other's gazes for a moment, silently challenging the other's stance.
Once Hopper is evidently aware of the fact that El's not going to be deterred from spending time alone with Mike, he relents.
"Blue," he sighs, turning back to his newspaper.
"Is it too somber?"
"It's a sweater."
"You're right," El nods, smiling at her own silly question. With that, she hurries back into her room to change.
"I still don't know how I feel about this whole thing," Hopper calls out.
"Why!?" El huffs, voice muffled as she pulls the sweater over her head.
"It's just…what do you even know about this kid?"
"You said you knew him!" El reminds him, alluding to the conversation that started this entire banter between them. After smoothing down her sweater, she moves to her vanity mirror and begins brushing her hair back.
"I said I knew his father," Hopper clarifies, "We went to high school around the same time together. I have no idea what his kid is like, but considering what I know about Ted—"
"Hey!" El snaps, cutting him off.
"I'm just saying you better hope that the apple fell far from the three on that one, kid," Hopper continues, a teasing, light-hearted edge to his voice.
El gives a dismissive huff as she finishes tying her hair back in a short little ponytail. "Mike's great!"
"I'm sure he is."
El adds a few finishing touches to her look (a swipe of lip gloss, a spritz of perfume) before returning to the living room.
"He is!" She insists, moving to grab her dad by the arm and pull him off the couch, "Now, let's go!"
Hopper gives a discontented grunt as he allows himself to be pulled up by her. "What's the rush?"
"It's 4:50!" El exclaims, "I'm supposed to be there in ten minutes!"
Hopper grumbles something incoherent in reply, but as it's probably yet another gripe at Mike's expense, El is perfectly fine with not hearing it.
Since Hawkins' public transportation system is pretty much non-existent and Hopper has the night off, he offered to drive El to her lessons and pick her up when she was done. It's kinda embarrassing, having to be dropped off by her dad, but it was either that or not going at all (or asking Max, but that seemed like it'd be even weirder).
El and Hop head outside, board the police cruiser, and commence the drive to Mike's house. As El instructs her dad on what turns to make, her heart pounds in her chest, electrified with anxious nerves.
Just breathe, she reminds herself, It's just a guitar lesson.
Just a guitar lesson with the cutest boy El's ever seen, but whatever.
Ten minutes later, Hopper comes to a stop in front of the Wheeler's home. El hurries to unbuckle her seatbelt and exit the car, but her dad evidently has a few last words to get off his chest.
"At 9:00, I'm going to be right here to pick you up," Hopper reminds her.
"I know," El sighs, placing her hand over the door handle.
"No funny business."
"None!"
"If you wanna leave early, you call me, okay?"
"Okay!"
Hopper eyes her carefully before echoing, "Okay."
El gives him a reassuring smile as she leans in to give him a quick hug. It's a little clumsy since she has to lean across the gearshift and everything, but the sentiment is what really matters.
"Thank you! Bye!" She exclaims as she pulls away.
Hopper grumbles a farewell in response, but El is already exiting the car and hurrying to the front door. She realizes halfway across the Wheeler's front lawn that she probably shouldn't run, she needed to look more calm and collected. Like she's totally not freaking out.
She slows into a relaxed, yet confident walk as she approaches the front door and knocks. The last time she was here was Tuesday — no one had been home to answer the door, so she'd just followed the sound of chatter and music to the garage.
This time around, Mike opens the door. He smiles warmly at El, but the look doesn't quite meet his eyes.
"Hey, El!" He greets, trying to muster up as much enthusiasm as possible. It's not that he doesn't want her here, or anything, because he definitely does, he just kinda wishes he didn't have to be here at his house right now.
"Hi, Mike!" El smiles.
"Let's get started," Mike mumbles hurriedly. He reaches out to grab her hand as he guides her into the house. Maybe if they hurry, they won't have to deal with—
"Michael?"
Shit.
His mother emerges from the kitchen, a curious look on her face. When she sees El, the look changes into a bright smile. It's the same smile she always gives when company's over, when she has to act like everything's just fine. Like she and Mike's dad haven't been arguing all afternoon, and only just stopped five minutes ago when Ted took off to 'get some air.'
"You must be Eleanor!" Mrs. Wheeler says, moving forward to give El a short hug, "Michael's told me a lot about you!"
"Yeah, yeah," Mike grouses. Still holding El's hand, he continues to guide El down the hallway the second his mother pulls back, "We gotta go, Mom!"
"Alright," His mother replies, that disingenuously bright smile still plastered across her face, "Just let me know if you two need anything!"
What Mike needs is a distraction. He continues to guide El down the hallway, forcing himself to push his parents' problems out of his mind.
"Sorry we had to start late," Mike says as he opens the door that leads into the garage, "I had to pick up my sister Holly from school."
"You have a sister?"
"Yeah, two. Nancy's in college, Holly's in elementary school."
They step into the garage and Mike begins the task of turning on all the lights. As he moves about the space and plugs in everything, El examines the area more closely. Even though they're in a garage, there's something about the space that's remarkably cozy. Maybe it's the space heater in the corner or the photographs on the wall (the photos show the band engaged in various activities, like sitting in the back of Max's van, lounging around the beach, and hanging out with an older boy that El doesn't recognize — Will's not in any of the photos, so El assumes he must have taken all of these).
Or maybe it's because Mike's here. That's always a viable option.
As Mike finishes setting everything up, he turns to glance at her warily. "Next time, you can just come around to the garage, if you want," he says, "Instead of walking through the house."
El smiles teasingly, "Why? You don't want me to run into your parents?"
Mike doesn't reply to that. For a moment, El sees a shadow pass over his face, but then it's gone again.
Something seems off. She considers pressing the issue further, but something in her gut tells her that it'd be better to hold off. After all, maybe she's just seeing things...
Mike grabs two guitars from their stands and moves to sit on the couch, motioning for El to join him. For a moment, El thinks she's seeing double, but no, Mike actually owns two models of the exact same guitar.
"Why do you have two guitars?" El asks as she sits beside him.
"One for me, one for you," Mike shrugs.
"I meant, why do you have two of the same one?"
"Oh, right," Mike replies, glancing down at the guitars as if he'd just realized this, "Basically, my mom bought me one for Christmas, then my dad heard I liked guitars and accidentally bought the same one she did."
El smiles incredulously, unsure if she should make any comments on that. She's starting to see why her dad may have been skeptical of Mr. Wheeler, though.
Mike takes note of the perplexed look on El's face and gives her a small smile. "Yeah, my dad's kind of an idiot."
El attempts to hold back her giggles but only winds up snorting instead. "You shouldn't say that!" She exclaims.
Mike still can't get over how great her laugh is. Even though he's still feeling a little shitty, just seeing her smile is already helping his mood immensely. "It's true, he is!" He insists, smiling despite himself.
El's hesitant giggles finally die down as Mike passes one of the guitars and a spare pick to her. She holds the items carefully, looking at them as if they were alien artifacts.
"So, how do I..." El begins hesitantly.
"Here," Mike smiles. He leans in and carefully moves her hands to rest over the guitar in the correct position. As he places the guitar pick between her fingers, he feels an almost electric sort of spark pass between them.
El blushingly allows herself to be positioned by Mike. She finds herself holding her breath as his hands carefully move over her.
"Now," Mike says as he pulls back and grabs his own guitar, "These are both Fender Stratocasters."
"Okay," El nods, completely lost.
Despite her vocal affirmation, her confusion reads all over her face. Her brow is furrowed in a curiously confused sort of way that probably shouldn't be as cute as Mike thinks it is.
"Don't worry," Mike assures her with another smile, "We're gonna take it slow."
El breathes out in relief. "Okay," she repeats, sounding far more relaxed this time.
Mike begins to talk her through the basics. Despite how jumpy he feels sitting next to El like this — their gazes locked, knees brushing together — once he starts talking about how to play the guitar, his nerves start to subside.
This is something comfortable for him; after all, he's had to do it before. Lucas didn't know much about guitars when they first formed their band, so the two of them had spent most of their freshman year hanging out at each other's houses, learning together, riffing off each other, and goofing around.
Of course, that had been with his best friend, not an insanely pretty girl. Mike has to put in way more effort to make sure his instructions are top-notch.
Despite Mike's patient guidance, it's a pretty rough start. El gets visibly frustrated whenever she doesn't understand what Mike's talking about or when she screws up a chord. She huffs grumpily, bites down on her lower lip, and glares at the guitar as if it'd personally offended her somehow.
But she doesn't give up. For every aggravating misstep, El finds herself only further determined to get it right. She keeps practicing, keeps following Mike's soothing directions, and around the 2-hour mark, she successfully manages to play a simple riff. It's nothing crazy, just a few chords, but it actually sounds like part of a song and not a heap of jumbled notes.
"I got it!" El exclaims once she finished, beaming up at Mike ecstatically.
"Yeah, you did!" Mike beams back, raising his hand.
El high-fives him, still smiling proudly. The glowing feeling of accomplishment leaves her feeling euphoric — like she could handle anything. She knows that her guitar-playing skills are elementary at best, but some progress is still better than none at all.
"Alright," Mike continues, returning his hands to his guitar, "So, now that you've got all the basics down, are you ready to start learning a real song?"
The prospect is a little daunting, but El still nods confidently. "What song?"
Mike gives her a shy glance. "I was thinking you might wanna learn Blackbird?"
A warm, tingly feeling spreads across El's cheeks as she smiles back at him. "Oh?" She asks, voice pitching a little higher than unusual.
Mike isn't sure if the way her voice rises is due to shyness, discomfort, or a combination of both. Either way, he hurries to offers an explanation that (hopefully) won't make him sound like a lovesick wastoid. "Since you sang it at your audition, and everything!" He says hastily, "Also, it's one of the first songs I learned, too."
"Okay!" El nods. Her heart starts fluttering again as she inches a little closer to him and readies the guitar in her hands, "I'm ready!"
As Mike begins to teach her the chords, El can't help but wonder if this is their song. Not that they're even together like that, but still. If they were, would this be it?
Once the idea implants itself in her brain, there's no shaking it. The thought only adds more pressure for El to play the song perfectly, which naturally causes her to mess up way more than she would otherwise.
Mike's trying to walk her through the opening notes, but it's not going very well.
"No, no, no," he chastises gently, "You're plucking the strings in the wrong order. It's mixing up the notes."
"How do I fix it?" El pouts.
"Like this," Mike replies, demonstrating the proper technique.
El watches him carefully, but upon trying to do it herself, only fumbles the chord again. As she continues to mess up, she feels her euphoric sense of accomplishment slip right through her hands.
El stops to collect herself and give her aching fingers a rest. "I'm sorry," she mutters, ducking her head in shame, "I can't do it."
"Yes, you can!" Mike assures her, "Practice makes perfect, right?"
"Right," El mumbles dejectedly.
Mike studies her somber demeanor for a moment before getting an idea. "Do you mind if I try something?" He asks tentatively.
El glances at him, puzzled, "Sure?"
Mike takes a steadying breath before setting his guitar aside and sliding closer to El. One arm wraps around her back as the other curves around her side. He can hear El's breath hitch as he places his hands directly over hers.
"We'll just go through it together," Mike explains. He hopes that El can't feel how fast his heart is pounding right now, but considering his chest is pressed up against her back, she probably can.
"Okay," El manages to choke out. She's surprised she's able to form any words at all, considering her brain is pretty much short-circuiting right now. All of her senses are just overwhelmed with Mike. The tingly feeling of Mike's hands holding hers, the scent of Mike's soap filling her nose, the rise and fall of Mike's chest against her back.
She's going completely crazy.
Mike gently begins to guide her fingers over the correct strings, showing her exactly how to play the song. El watches their fingers in awe as Mike leads them expertly, and before long the familiar notes of Blackbird begin to echo throughout the garage.
"Alright," Mike murmurs once he's finished playing through the intro and chorus, "Now you try."
Though he lowers his hands, he doesn't move away (not that El minds this in the slightest). It's so hard to focus on playing when he's literally right there, but El somehow manages to do it anyway.
Her notes are slow and hesitant, but noticeably better than her previous attempts. As she repeats the movements Mike just walked her through, she turns to glance over her shoulder at him.
"Like this?" She whispers hopefully.
Their faces are close — dangerously close. So close that, when Mike looks back at her, their noses kinda brush. If he moved a few centimeters closer, he could totally kiss her. Like, if he wanted to.
Does he want to?
As his gaze falls to her invitingly soft lips, he can't think of a reason to not want to.
"Uh, yeah," he murmurs, eyes slightly glazed over, "Just like that."
As El looks back at him, she finds herself taken aback by the dreamy glint in his eyes. He looks so helplessly enamored, so completely captivated by her, that El finds herself a little overwhelmed. She's not used to having guys look at her like this, not guys she likes as much as Mike, anyway.
It's a feeling that leaves her breathlessly light-headed. The intensity of it all is too much for her to handle right now, so she hastily looks away and focuses her attention back on the guitar, heart pounding.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
"Good," she says as she clears her throat, not quite sure what she's even referring to anymore, "That's good."
Mike blinks at her a few times, dispelling the lovesick daze he was under. "Yeah!" He replies quickly, pulling his arms away from her, "You're, uh, doing great."
El pouts a little as his arms leave her sides. The warmth of his touch fades away, leaving her stiff and cold. Maybe she shouldn't have looked away quite so quickly…
Mike's throat starts to grow dry as he glances around the garage nervously. This is getting increasingly awkward; he needs a distraction before it gets worse (if it's even possible for it to get worse).
When his gaze lands on his guitar, he nearly breathes an outward sigh of relief. Right. He's supposed to be giving her lessons. Time to get back to that.
"Why don't we try playing the song at the same time?" He suggests as he picks up his guitar, "Since you seem to have a lot of it figured out."
El gives him a hopeful smile. "Will you help me if I need it?"
(Translation: will you totally put your arms around me again if I ask for it?)
As Mike smiles back at her, the tense moment of awkwardness fades away as quickly as it came. "Of course," he assures her.
El brightens at this. She can't help but feel like they're caught in a push-and-pull at the moment; growing closer, pulling back, coming together again. They're both testing the waters, or testing each other, to be more accurate.
As Mike begins to play the song on his guitar, El does her best to keep up. She can tell he's playing a little slower than usual, probably so she doesn't fall behind. While some might find that disparaging, El is immensely appreciative that he's so considerate.
It's going far more smoothly than either of them expected. Even when El falters, she picks right back up again, strumming her guitar in time with Mike. The reverberating twangs of their notes fill the garage with a warm sound. It brings El right back to her audition, when time and space had stood still, when it'd been only her and Mike.
Maybe that's why she starts singing.
She's not consciously aware that she's doing it, but as they continue to play, she finds herself singing the words under her breath, just as she had at her audition. As the words fall from her lips, everything else starts to fade away: the chirp of the crickets outside, the hum of the space heater, the muffled sounds of passing cars. Only the sound of their playing remains —
— followed by the sound of Mike's voice.
It's a little rough and a little low, but El's ear catches the faint sound of Mike joining in with her. She can see his lips — pink and slightly chapped — moving as he quietly sings along.
It's blissfully natural, the way her voice melds with Mike's. A strange, intense feeling strikes her like a bolt of lightning, just like it had in Radio Shack. His singing is doing things, making her feel…more. There's no proper word for it, it's just more. More happy, more captivated, more alive, somehow.
Though that intensely overwhelming feeling is back, El dares herself to meet his gaze. To her surprise, she finds that he's already looking back at her, eyes glazed over once more.
Magic, she thinks nonsensically, this is what magic must feel like.
She's pretty sure they're not singing anymore. Maybe they are, she honestly isn't lucid enough to tell. All she knows she is that she's definitely stopped playing, because her hands are currently elsewhere. Her fingers, seemingly moving of their own accord, have slipped off the guitar and are slowly inching to rest on Mike's thigh.
She's not sure what she's doing, or what she wants, or what she expects. In fact, she can't stop to process what's happening or to think anything at all. All she knows is that Mike's stopped playing too, his hand is cautiously resting on her leg, they're moving in closer, her eyes are fluttering closed, and —
The doorbell is ringing.
The sound echoes throughout the Wheeler's home and into the garage like a clock striking midnight. El and Mike pull back with a start, eyes wide and cheeks flushed a brilliant red.
Oh my god, Mike thinks desperately.
Oh my god, El thinks disappointedly.
"That's, uh, probably my Dad," El mumbles hastily, pulling back even more.
"Probably!" Mike replies thickly. Holy shit, they'd literally almost kissed and Mike's not sure if he's mad that they'd gotten interrupted or embarrassed that he'd even tried to kiss her in the first place. His whole body feels like it's on fire as he glances down at his watch.
9:00.
Mike didn't know it was possible for four hours to pass by so quickly, and yet, it has. He and El exchange anxious smiles as they both rise to their feet. Their flustered embarrassment radiates from their burning cheeks, cautious glances, and hesitant movements.
"Well," Mike begins, fingering the neck of his guitar distractedly, "I think we made a lot of progress."
"Yes!" El nods briskly, "We did!"
There's another moment of awkward silence before Mike finally meets her gaze. "So…do you…uh…wanna do this again next Thursday?"
(Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes.)
El smiles shyly as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and nods. "Yes."
Mike tries his best to not grin like a total dweeb, he really does, but he can't help it. Giving El guitar lessons has to be the best idea he's ever come up with — he'd literally do anything to make it happen again.
"Awesome!" He beams.
El gives him an affectionate nod as the two begin to pack up. As Mike brings his guitar over to its stand, El follows him from behind, still holding his other guitar.
Mike looks over his shoulder and notices her trailing after him. "What?" He asks curiously.
"Here's your guitar back," El offers, holding it out to him.
Mike's brow furrows as he turns to face her. He looks at the guitar for a moment, glances up at El, and that's when he makes a decision. "Keep it," he says simply, "It's yours."
El's eyes nearly bug out of her head, she looks so shocked. "What!?" She exclaims, completely aghast.
"I'm serious!" Mike insists.
"Mike!"
"El!"
"I'm not taking your guitar!" El balks, shaking her head.
"I already have one!" Mike insists, "I don't need two of the exact same kind! Besides, how else are you going to practice outside of our lessons?"
El blinks at him wordlessly, her mouth slightly ajar. "I…I can't…" she manages to reply meekly, "I can't take your guitar, Mike."
"Yes, you can," Mike assures her. He steps forward, places his hand over hers, and gently lowers her outstretched arm. "I want you to have it."
El's stares at him for a moment longer, but eventually her shocked expression fades into a grateful smile as she clutches the guitar closer to her. "Thank you," she murmurs, ducking her head shyly.
If El thought she might have feelings for Mike before, her crush has officially exploded like, times a million. Her heart soars in her chest the entire time Mike walks her to the front door. Hopper is waiting in the foyer, chatting with Mrs. Wheeler when El and Mike, smiling contently, walk in.
Hopper eyes El's elated expression, as well as the new guitar in her arms, but says nothing. Well, at least he doesn't until they've left the Wheelers and are headed home.
"So," Hopper asks as he drives, "How was your 'just a guitar lesson?'"
Perfect? Amazing? Out-of-this-world? Radical? Totally tubular?
"It was fine," El says simply, holding her guitar in her lap.
Hopper glances at the passenger's seat where she sits. "Just fine?"
El turns to look back at him, and though her insides are still a jumbled, fluttery, haywire mess, her voice is calm, cool, and collected when she answers.
"Just fine."
Even though it's a pretty lame pastime, Max can't get enough of bowling. There's just something so satisfying about getting to chuck a huge ass ball at a bunch of pins and watch them all fall down. Plus, the snacks at the bowling alley are amazing, rivaled only perhaps by Benny's. The band spent a lot of summer nights going head to head in all sorts of combinations. They spent so much time at the bowling alley that they even tried asking the manager if their band could play a gig there (to which he replied, 'unfortunately, I don't think there'd be a place for that in this establishment,' to which Mike muttered, 'screw you, too').
Sure, it's dorky, but so are Max and the guys, so it fits. Hanging out there is a pastime as natural as going to Mike's house, the movies, or the arcade. That's probably why when Max finds out El's never been bowling, she's so shocked.
"How have you never been bowling?" She exclaims indignantly. It's lunchtime on a Friday, they're all seated at their usual spot, and while the band's known El for over two weeks now, they definitely weren't ready for this bombshell of an admission.
"There weren't any bowling alleys by my apartment," El explains (nor any friends for her to go with, but that's beside the point).
"Chicago sounds terrible," Lucas remarks, "No offense."
El shrugs the comment aside.
Max is still reeling from the revelation. "We have to take you then!" She insists, "We can go tomorrow night — Saturdays is when they do cosmic bowling!"
El's brow furrows in confusion. "Cosmic…bowling?"
"It's when they turn all the lights off!" Mike explains eagerly, "And everything is all glow-in-the-dark, and there's like cool flashing lights, and it makes you feel like you're in outer space!"
"And they play lots of disco music!" Will adds.
El's eyes widen with excitement. "That sounds like fun!"
"Then let's do it!" Max grins, "Tomorrow night, all of us. You're gonna love it, El."
"I can't go," Dustin cuts in flatly.
Max grits her teeth as she turns to look at him. If this is about his stupid Yoko Ono bullshit, she's going to lose her mind. "Why not?" She asks just as flatly.
"Steve's sleeping over tomorrow night," Dustin explains.
"Who's Steve?" El questions.
Dustin eyes her carefully as he replies, "He's my friend. He's in college, and he's coming to spend the weekend with me."
"You see Steve like, every other week!" Max huffs.
"So, what?" Dustin defends, "I'm just supposed to blow him off for — "
He doesn't have to finish the sentence for Max to know exactly what he's thinking. El. He doesn't want to do anything for El, for some asinine reason.
Max rolls her eyes as she inhales deeply. "What time is Steve coming over tomorrow?" She asks patiently.
"He said he was going to be coming over late, like, after 10."
"Then we'll just go before then," Mike shrugs, "And Steve can just pick you up when we're done."
Dustin blinks at him, as if he's trying to find a flaw in that plan. Evidently coming up blank, he sighs and returns his focus to his lunch. "Okay," he concedes, "Let's go bowling, then."
And so they do.
When they meet up at 6:30 the next evening, the bowling alley is already decked out in its full cosmic-glory. The lights are dimmed, swirling colorful lights dance over the walls, and an upbeat ABBA song is playing over the speakers. The space echoes with the sounds of pins clattering over and the faint buzz of neon lights.
El is glancing around at everything with rapt fascination, allowing herself to be guided along by the rest of the group. As Max helps her pick out a pair of bowling shoes, the boys take upon the task of splitting up the teams.
"Only four people can play in one lane at a time," Mike reminds them.
"Why don't we do three and three?" Will suggests, "That way it's fair."
"Good idea," Dustin nods.
"Well, I wanna be with Max," Lucas requests.
"I wanna go with Lucas and Max," Dustin pleads hastily.
Will eyes him. "Why?" He asks somewhat challengingly.
Dustin hesitates, "Because I know them better."
"Or because you don't want to be with El?" Will counters.
Mike's neck nearly snaps from how fast he turns to glare at Dustin. "What's wrong with El?"
"Nothing!" Dustin exclaims.
Will's surprised that he's able to speak up like this, but Dustin's obvious disdain towards El deserves some addressing. "You act weird around her," Will states.
"No, I don't!"
"You kind of do," Lucas contends.
"I thought you didn't trust her either!" Dustin points out indignantly.
"I guess I didn't," Lucas admits, "Like, at first. But she's a good singer, and she's pretty nice. Max seems to really like her, so I trust her judgment, okay?"
Dustin pouts, looking a little frustrated. "But—"
"You need to be nice to her," Will directs with a surprising amount of authority, "She's a part of our group now."
As Dustin glances around at the other guys, he realizes he's outnumbered here. "Well, shit," he sighs, "I'm sorry. I guess I'll try harder to be nice."
"Good," Mike replies, still looking a little miffed that Dustin ever talked ill of El to begin with.
"Alright," Will continues, looking directly at Dustin and Mike, "So, I'll play against Lucas and Max, and then you guys can play against El."
Dustin swallows back his exclamation of protest and nods. No more whining — he's gotta force himself to get over this change, whether he's thrilled about it or not.
As if on cue, the girls return wearing the proper shoes and carrying bowling balls.
"Are you guys ready?" El asks chipperly.
"They don't even have their shoes on yet," Max scoffs, "They're just standing around talking like a bunch of girls."
"You're girls!" Dustin points out.
"Your point?" Max counters, unfazed.
"C'mon," Lucas snorts, leading the guys over to the shoe counter, "Let's just get started."
After the boys gear up, the band heads to two lanes located right next to each other. Mike and El are walking close to each other as Mike gives her a quick run-down of the rules of the game.
"It's pretty self-explanatory once you get started," Mike summarizes.
"Just don't get it in the gutter," Will adds.
"Or step over the line, then you'll slip and fall on your face," Max snorts.
"Okay!" El replies somewhat anxiously.
"Don't worry, you're gonna be fine," Lucas shrugs, "Bowling is easy."
"That's easy for you to say," Max smirks, "You're like, amazing at it."
"So are you!" Lucas replies with a smile.
"The couple that bowls together, stays together," Dustin jokes wryly.
El's eyebrows raise in surprise. "You're a couple?"
"Unfortunately," Max jokes.
"Hey!" Lucas exclaims as the rest of their friends snort and giggle.
Max gives him a teasing smile as she leans in to press a reassuring kiss to his cheek. The action, though small, seems to calm Lucas immensely, and he relaxes into a content grin.
"Ugh, you guys are so gross!" Mike jokes.
"Like you should talk," Max mutters under her breath.
Mike throws her a wide-eyed look, but it seems to be that he's the only person who picked up on the jab. Thank god.
After that, the band proceeds to split up into the two lanes and start playing. Since the lanes are beside each other, they're able to chat as a group and watch everyone play.
El watches everyone else go first before stepping up to take her turn. She cradles her bowling ball carefully as she stares the pins down, eyes narrowed with determination.
"You got this, El!" Mike cheers on.
El takes a deep breath, swings her arm back, and launches the ball forward. It lands on the slippery lane with a loud THUD, rolls down the rest of the way, and knocks over three pins on the left side.
"I knocked some over!" El exclaims, turning to beam back at everyone excitedly.
As the band claps for El and gives her some congratulatory remarks, Dustin finds himself fairly unimpressed. She didn't even hit most of them, and yet everyone else is acting like this is the coolest shit ever. He doesn't get what the big deal is, honestly.
When it's his turn to play, he actually manages to knock down nine pins on his first try. Despite this, he doesn't get a round of applause like El did for her three pins.
Well, technically he does — but only from one person.
There's a row of booths that run along the front of the bowling lanes. El is seated in one of them, along with the other band members who aren't currently bowling (Mike, Will, Max).
"Good job, Dustin!" El beams as she claps for him, "That was good!"
Seriously, why did she have to be so nice? It would be so much easier to dislike her if she was like, secretly evil or something.
"Thanks," Dustin mumbles, grudgingly walking to sit beside her in the booth.
Mike, seated on El's other side, opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by the sudden sound of Lucas cheering.
"Holy shit!" Lucas exclaims gleefully. He's standing in front of his lane, pointing to the scoreboard proudly, "Did you see that?!"
"That's your third strike in a row!" Will smiles, seated across from Mike.
"Nice!" Max nods, looking impressed.
Mike frowns a little. He knows it's pretty dumb, but he can't help but feel a little jealous. He hasn't gotten a single strike yet — he doesn't want El (or the rest of his friends) to think that he's like, a total wimp compared to Lucas.
"Hey, Lucas!" He calls out, drumming his leg against the floor.
Lucas eyes him as he walks back to the booth. "What?"
"We should go head-to-head," Mike suggests, "You know, guitarist against guitarist?"
Max rolls her eyes as she groans. "Please don't."
The prospect of a challenge causes Lucas to get an excited gleam in his eye. "You're on, Mike!" He smiles, placing his hands on his hips, "Just try not to cry too hard when I cream you."
Mike grins back mischievously as he gets up from the booth. "You wish."
Max makes another annoyed groan as she starts to pound her head against the table.
"What's so bad about a competition?" El giggles at Max.
"Because!" Max grumbles, voice muffled as she rests her head on the table, "It's like their stupid version of a guitarist dick-measuring contest."
"No, it's not!" Mike insists, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.
"So, it's not like the time you guys challenged to each other to a milkshake-drinking challenge at Benny's?" Max counters, lifting her head to raise an eyebrow at him, "And you both puked your brains out afterward?"
Mike glances at El just in time to catch sight of her crinkling up her nose. "Oh my god!" Mike exclaims, cheeks burning in embarrassment, "It's not like that!"
"Or the time you guys tried to race bikes and crashed into a tree?"
"How were we supposed to know that the curb was so uneven?" Lucas defends.
"You guys split your chins open!"
"It was worth it!"
"C'mon, Lucas," Mike huffs, walking over to the bowling lane, "Let's just get started!"
"You can take my place, Mike," Max states, standing up from the booth, "I'm getting hungry."
El perks up at the mention of food. "I'm hungry too!"
"Let's go get some food then," Max offers, motioning for El to follow her, "The snacks here are the shit."
"Who am I going to play against?" Dustin pouts.
"Will can take my place," Mike offers.
"Okay!" Will smiles.
The boys pair off to continue their bowling matches as Max leads El over to the concessions counter. There are so many options — theater candy boxes, popcorn, soft pretzels, nachos, cotton candy — that El doesn't know where she should even start. Max suggests her favorite, a salted pretzel with nacho cheese, so the girls wind up leaving the concession stand with two matching snacks.
They find their own private booth to sit in so that they can watch the boys play without having to listen to their 'fatuous conversations,' as Max eloquently puts it.
"So, you guys come here a lot?" El asks as she and Max, seated across from each other, begin to dig into their pretzels.
"Yeah," Max nods.
El watches as Max dips her pretzel into the cup of cheese sauce and follows her lead. The warm dough practically melts in her mouth and El hums contently. "I can see why," she gushes, mouth full of pretzel.
Max smiles at El as she takes a bite of her own pretzel. "We spent so much time here over the summer, it was kind of crazy."
"Really?"
Max nods again. "This summer was like, awesome. Since I got my creepy-person van and Mike got his car, we gotta just do whatever we wanted. We like, went to the beach all the time, and made 1 AM Slurpee-runs to the 7-Eleven, and went camping, and everything."
As El listens to Max describe the events of the past summer, she finds it odd that she's able to miss something she was never a part of. "That sounds like so much fun," she sighs wistfully.
"It was, but don't worry," Max replies reassuringly, "You didn't miss out, because we're gonna get to do even more awesome stuff now that you're here!"
El eyes her hopefully. "Really?"
"Yeah, totally! I mean, we even are right now!"
"You're right!" El smiles as the realization dawns on her.
As the girls continue to munch on their snacks, they turn to watch the boys play. Lucas and Mike are pretty neck-in-neck, surprisingly. Their scores are nearly the same, though Lucas currently has the upper hand.
Will and Dustin seem to be taking things less seriously and are trying to see who can throw the bowling ball in the silliest way. Dustin does a graceful pirouette and blindly throws the ball with his eyes closed, causing Will to nearly die of laughter.
"God, they're such dweebs," Max snorts, but despite her teasing words, her gaze is warm and affectionate.
"How did you guys become friends?" El asks, turning to look at her.
"We met in kindergarten," Max replies, "We all liked the same stuff, so it just kind of happened, you know?"
"When did you start dating Lucas?" El asks with a giggle.
Even though Max rolls her eyes in response, El still notices the smile she's failing to hide. "8th grade," Max replies, "But I'm pretty sure Lucas liked me earlier. When we first met, he tried to win me over with his crayon box. It was one of those fancy ones with like, 128 colors and a sharpener, or whatever. Turns out it wasn't even his, Will just let him borrow it so Lucas could impress me."
At that anecdote, El's giggles dissolve into delighted snorts of laughter.
Max feels her cheeks flush even redder as El continues to laugh. "Yeah, it's pretty lame," she mumbles.
"No! It's not lame!" El beams, "It's cute!"
"Oh!" Max relaxes, brightening noticeably.
El's laughs die down into another content smile as she turns her attention back to the boys. Mike and Lucas are joking around about something, and as Lucas says something to him, Mike throws his head back in a loud laugh.
Max eyes El carefully. Though the lights are dim, she can easily see the major heart-eyes El's giving Mike right now. It's not even subtle, like, at all.
"So, when did you start liking Mike?" Max asks as El returns her attention to her food.
The question is posed at the exact moment El takes a bite of her pretzel, so she consequently sputters and chokes in response.
"Mike?!" El exclaims once her windpipe is clear.
"You were totally just checking him out!" Max smirks.
"I was not!"
"You so were."
El continues to sputter and scoff defensively. "It's not like that!"
"Oh yeah, sure!" Max replies dryly, "You're totally not into him. You weren't just checking him out, and you guys haven't been attached at the hip all night, or having private guitar lessons, which I'm pretty sure is just a euphemism at this point—"
At the last statement, El's heart starts to pound a little faster. She's had two lessons with Mike now. This past Thursday's lesson wasn't really anything like their first. Though her skills were slowly improving, there hadn't been another moment like the one they shared the first time. Maybe their first lesson had been a fluke or something.
"I don't like him," El reiterates.
Max knows that the guys aren't crazy about Mike liking El, but at the same time, Max could honestly care less about the whole Yoko Ono business. It was stupid, really. Besides, Dustin and Lucas always had to be such spazzes about everything; it was hard to take them seriously sometimes.
So, really, there's nothing stopping Max from fanning the flames, at least a little.
"Well, I guess it's better off that you don't like him," Max says casually, "Since he's got a girlfriend."
El pales, leaving her face awash by the neon lights. "He does?!" She exclaims, unable to hide her shocked dismay.
"Nope," Max smirks, taking a bite of her soft pretzel.
El flushes beet red as she gives Max a frustrated nudge. "I can't believe you!" She huffs.
"And I can't believe you!" Max replies with a smirk, "You've got the hots for Wheeler."
"I don't!" El insists, but even to her own ears the words sound pitifully disingenuous, "We're just friends."
"'Just friends' don't sound so upset when they hear the other person is dating someone," Max points out.
El avoids Max's teasing gaze and focuses on eating her pretzel. Admittedly, that brief moment in which she'd believed Mike was dating someone else had given her quite the scare. A hot surge of jealousy had sliced her in the gut like a stab wound, and even now that El's simmered down, she finds herself still a little annoyed, because no way could Mike date someone else, that would be the worse thing ever.
Thankfully, Max drops the subject, and the rest of the night passes by without much event.
By the time 10:00 rolls around, the boys' arms are tired, the girls are stuffed with soft pretzels, and Lucas is still the bowling champion. The band heads out to the dark parking lot, where Steve's BMW parked.
"Well, this was fun," Dustin says with a small wave.
"Later, Henderson," Max waves back.
"Nighty night, Dusty!" Lucas croons, causing Dustin to flip him off.
Dustin heads towards Steve's car as Max and Lucas bid everyone else goodbye and depart for Max's white van. Moments later, a green Pinto pulls into the lot and Will turns to wave to Mike and El.
"There's my mom," He announces, "I'll see you guys Monday!"
"'Bye!" Mike and El reply together.
There's a bashful moment of silence as Mike and El realize they're the only two people left. Not that either them really mind this, but both are a little unsure of what they should say or do around the other.
"Is someone coming to get you?" Mike asks, glancing at El shyly.
"My dad," El answers, fingering the hem of her jacket, "He gets out of work at 11:00."
"11?" Mike exclaims, "That's like, in an hour!"
El shrugs. "I'll be fine. I can just hang out at the concessions booth inside."
Mike shakes his head. "Screw that," he says dismissively, "You can't wait here for an hour! I'll just drive you home."
El's eyes light up excitedly. "Really?"
"Yeah!" Mike nods, then pauses, "I mean, only if you want to."
"I want to!" El replies eagerly. She probably sounds way too excited, but whatever. If it gets her more alone time with Mike, then she doesn't really care.
As this is happening, Dustin is entering Steve's car. There's a Queen song on the radio, the seats smell like leather and pine, and Steve is drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he sings along.
"Hey, kid," Steve says, pausing his singing to greet Dustin.
"Hey!" Dustin smiles, buckling himself into his seat.
"So, how was the bowling thing?"
"It was awesome!" Dustin grins, "Will and I had a contest to see who could throw it the worst — he won by lying on his stomach and pushing it forward with his nose."
"Isn't that like, the exact opposite of what you're supposed to do?"
"Duh! That's the point!"
Though Steve's brow furrows in confusion, he still smiles at Dustin. "You guys are so weird," he teases
"You're mom's weird!" Dustin teases back.
"My mom is great," Steve replies somewhat distractedly. His gaze has moved away from Dustin and is currently trained on the entrance of the bowling alley. His eyes narrow as he examines something with a vague interest.
"So, Wheeler's got a girlfriend now?" Steve asks after a moment, sounding bemused.
Dustin frowns in confusion. "Nancy has a girlfriend? I thought she was with Jonathan?"
Steve turns to give him an incredulous stare. "Not Nancy, dipshit. Mike. The one literally standing right over there."
Steve points back to the front of the bowling alley, where Mike and El are standing close together, conversing amiably.
"What? No! They're not dating!" Dustin frowns as he watches them, "She's not his girlfriend!"
Steve and Dustin watch as Mike proceeds to lead El away from the bowling alley and towards his car. He rushes to hold the passenger's door open for El and she enters, giving him an affectionate smile as she takes her seat.
"You might wanna tell Mike that, then," Steve snorts, watching the exchange.
"Mike promised he wouldn't like her," Dustin grouses.
"Who even is she?"
"El. She's our new lead singer."
"Oh," Steve replies nonchalantly, "Nice."
Dustin eyes him warily. "Nice?"
"You guys needed a lead singer," Steve shrugs, eyeing him right back.
"No, we don't!" Dustin snaps, feeling betrayed. Why did everyone have to sing El's praises? Could just one person be on his side in this?
"Oh, okay, you're right, you don't," Steve replies dryly, "When you start playing shows, you're just gonna play songs with no words and stare at the audience like a bunch of creepy dipshits, 'cause that's a good plan."
"You don't get it," Dustin grumbles, slouching back in the passenger's seat.
"I don't think you get what a band is," Steve counters, turning his key in the car's ignition.
As Steve starts up his vehicle, Mike's car pulls out of the parking lot. Dustin watches forlornly; an uneasy feeling churning in his gut.
It's the same uneasy feeling he got when Lucas and Max started dating, when Steve first moved away to college, when he started to realize that he's probably going to be the last of his friends to get a girlfriend (or, in Will's case, a boyfriend).
It's the inescapable, suffocating fear of being left behind.
The drive to El's house doesn't take long. When Mike pulls his car to a stop in her driveway, he finds himself almost upset about this. Even though he's literally going to see her Monday, he's already starting to miss spending time with her.
El gives a small sigh as she turns to look at him. "Thank you."
"Yeah, you're welcome!" Mike replies, fidgeting with the steering wheel.
"This was better than driving with my dad," El jokes, "And way better than taking the school bus."
"Oh, don't get me started," Mike smiles, rolling his eyes, "I tried riding the bus once, and never did it again. Everyone is so loud and obnoxious."
"They are!" El giggles, "Yesterday, on the way home from school, these two kids started throwing milk cartons at each other. One of the cartons smacked against the window and broke and chocolate milk got everywhere!"
Mike scrunches up his nose. "That sounds disgusting."
"It was!" El nods, "The bus driver was really mad."
A beat of silence passes as Mike dwells over El's words. An idea dawns on him, but he's not sure if he should share it. He doesn't want to seem weird, or anything…
…But his need to spend more time with her greatly overpowers his desire to not seem like a dweeb.
"You know," Mike offers quickly, before he can lose his nerve, "If you're tired of taking the bus every day, I could drive you to school."
"Mike," El softens, "No, that's okay. I don't want you to go through the trouble."
"It wouldn't be any trouble," Mike replies with a shrug, "Your house isn't that far, and when we have guitar lessons on Thursdays, we could just leave together. It'd be way easier."
"You have a point," El admits.
"So...is that a yes?" Mike asks, sounding shamelessly eager.
As El takes in his hopeful, hesitant smile, she feels her heart warm. God, he really is adorable.
She wants to say yes, she really does, but—
But there's a bitter feeling lurking in the corners of her mind, leaving a bad taste in her mouth. Guilt and reluctance weigh her down, causing her heart to sink and her shoulders to slump.
"You've done so much for me already," El mumbles, averting her gaze to the gear shift, "You let me join the band, you're giving me lessons, you gave me your guitar, you drove me home..."
"Because that's all stuff that I wanted to do!" Mike protests.
"But I don't want to be a burden!" El frets, wringing her hands.
"You're not a burden, El," Mike insists, "I'm...I like doing these things with you. I like—"
His voice comes to a stop. El quickly raises her head to meet his gaze. Despite how dark the night is, the street lamps give enough light for El to see that he's currently blushing like crazy.
"You like?" El prompts hopefully.
(Me, her heart pleads.)
"I like spending time with you, okay?" Mike replies bashfully, "And I'm happy you moved here."
(That works too.)
"I'm happy I moved here, too," El murmurs back, giving him a soft smile.
Mike smiles back. Even though it's like, the middle of the night, he finds himself thinking about how looking at El feels like looking at the sun. She's bright and shining and makes him feel warm. Plus, he probably looks like a total idiot when he's looking at her.
"So, uh, y-yeah," he stammers helplessly, turning to look out the front windshield instead, "All I'm saying is, I wouldn't mind giving you rides. In my car, I mean, not like...uh...anything else. I mean, cause like...y-you know, that'd be kinda weird. But like, us hanging out more wouldn't have to be weird. It could be fun, I think, but like, only if you wanted to. I mean, Lucas and Max drive around together—"
"You think we're like Lucas and Max?" El grins.
"No!" Mike bursts, "I mean, we could be, kind of. I was just saying that it's not weird the Max gives Lucas rides, since they're dating. Not that you and I are, or will, or whatever, but we could like...uh...you know...I...I don't know what I'm even saying anymore..."
El's smile widens as he continues to stumble over his words. It's so cute, the way he's rambling and blushing like crazy. It's so cute that El finds herself fighting back every instinct to not lean in and kiss him.
Then again...
Fighting back instinct seemed pretty overrated, anyway.
Without giving it a second thought, El leans in to give Mike a quick kiss on his cheek. She holds the kiss for a fleeting second before pulling back, leaving behind a faint lip gloss print.
That shuts him up.
Mike stops mid-ramble. His eyes are wide, his mouth is kind of hanging open, and he's sitting perfectly still.
Okay, so...holy shit, that actually just happened.
Mike, thoroughly shocked, turns to look at El and is pleasantly surprised to see that she's already smiling back at him.
"You can pick me up Monday morning," She instructs, unbuckling her seatbelt.
Mike beams at her, completely starry-eyed, "Okay!" He replies eagerly.
El gives him one last knowing look before exiting his car. As she walks up the front steps toward her house, Mike carefully raises a hand to touch the spot where she kissed him. His skin almost feels like it's buzzing, or perhaps tingling is a better word. Either way, it feels amazing. El's amazing.
Monday morning can't come soon enough.
[A/N]: Sorry about the wait on this update! Life had been a little hectic lately!
Thanks again for reading and leaving comments! Even if I can't manage to reply to everyone, I just want you to know that they're greatly appreciated. I read each and every one like, a million times over.
Also, shockingly, I've created a playlist for this fic! It features songs that both inspired the story and that are actually featured within the story. I'll be updating it as the fic continues! You can find the link in my bio!