"We need a name," El states.
The declaration takes the others by surprise. To be fair, it is rather unexpected. The band is lounging around in Mike's garage, hovering in that awkward in-between period after band practice ends but before everyone starts going home.
El is seated beside Mike on the couch. Mike is idly strumming his guitar, Lucas and Max are seated on the floor practicing AC/DC's Back in Black, and Dustin and Will are seated in front of their instruments and looking a little tired. At El's declaration, everyone stops what they're doing to eye her.
"What do you mean?" Lucas asks.
"We need a name for our band," El clarifies.
The other band members glance at each other warily. Evidently, her suggestion is as well-received as if she'd just prompted them to finish their homework or, as Ted Wheeler would put it, 'keep it down in here.'
"I mean, I guess we do," Mike admits after a moment of hesitation.
"We just never agreed on one," Max finishes.
"Don't you have any ideas?" El queries hopefully.
"The Demodogs!" Dustin pipes up eagerly. He straightens up so suddenly that his drumsticks accidentally smash against the cymbals, accenting his declaration with an echoing CRASH.
"We're not going to be named the Demodogs!" Max snaps, covering her ears instinctively.
"What's a Demodog?" El frowns.
"It's his custom D&D monster," Lucas explains.
"From when we used to play Dungeons and Dragons," Mike adds.
"Used to?" Max snorts, "You dweebs still do!"
"Like, a while ago!" Mike blusters.
"Like, three weeks ago!" Max counters.
"Whatever!" Dustin cuts in, "My point is, the Demodogs would be an awesome band name!"
"It'd make us sound like a band of geeks!" Max scoffs.
"Isn't that what we are?" Will jokes.
"So what if it makes us sound like geeks?" Dustin continues, folding his arms as he eyes Max, "It's still better than your idea."
El turns to look at Max. "What's your idea?"
Max grins at El in a manner that can only be described as diabolical. "Max and the Maxettes," she replies, unable to keep a straight face.
El bursts into giggles so enthusiastic, she nearly topples right off the couch. Mike has to quickly reach out and grab her arm in order to keep her upright. He notices that after he does this, El casually slides a little closer to him, even after Mike's let go of her.
"It's mental!" Dustin remarks, eyeing El wryly.
"It's awesome!" Max beams.
"It's not so bad," Lucas offers hesitantly.
"Right," Will smiles, giving Lucas a knowing look.
Mike isn't convinced. El notices the way his leg starts to drum against the floor — a clear sign that he's not feeling comfortable.
"It's kind of dumb. Why would we even name our band after you?" Mike frowns, "When I'm—"
"You're what?" Max interrupts, raising an eyebrow at Mike.
An abrupt silence settles over the garage as everyone turns to look at Mike. Lucas and Max are eyeing him accusingly, but everyone else just looks hesitantly curious.
Two bright splotches of red bloom on Mike's cheeks as he quickly deflates. "When I'm…I…uh…think the name should be more…inclusive."
"Right," Lucas mutters, turning his gaze away.
Dustin glances between the pair of them, taking the awkward silence as his cue to leave. Things are getting way too tense in here, and he doesn't like where this is headed.
"Well!" Dustin says as cheerily as possible, "I think we should call it a night!"
"Me too!" Will nods, rising up from his keyboard hastily, "It's getting late."
The rest of the band agrees with a series of nods and mumbled affirmations. One by one, they pack up their instruments, don their jackets, and get ready to leave.
As El zippers up her jacket, Mike approaches her with a soft smile. "I can drive you home," he offers chivalrously.
It's kind of a silly offer to make since he'd driven her to school yesterday morning, this morning, and to band practice after school, but they're both still new to the whole carpool-thing. Mike isn't quite ready to just assume that El's going to be traveling with him everywhere — not yet, anyway.
"Okay!" El smiles back, "Thank you!"
Their eyes meet, and there's something about the look that passes between them that leaves Dustin feeling a little uneasy. It's like they're both in on an inside joke he doesn't understand.
Maybe it's the left-behind feeling rising up his throat. Maybe it's the way Steve just assumed Mike and El were a couple. Maybe it's the way they're apparently driving around together now, or the way Mike places his hand on El's back as he starts to guide her out of the garage.
Whatever it is, Dustin knows he needs to talk to Mike, just to make sure that what he thinks is happening isn't happening.
"Hey, Mike!" He calls out at their retreating backs.
Mike stops mid-step and turns to glance back at Dustin. "Yeah?"
"Can I talk with you for a sec?" Dustin asks.
Mike looks a little puzzled, but nods. "I guess so."
Dustin leads Mike into a corner of the garage away from the others, who are chatting near the doorway.
"What's going on?" Mike asks, keeping his voice low.
Dustin hesitates, suddenly feeling very flustered. "I...uh...I just wanted to ask you something."
"Okay?"
Dustin takes a deep breath before blurting it out. "Do you like El?" He asks with as much authority as he can muster.
Mike shrugs. "Obviously — we're friends."
"You know what I mean, Mike," Dustin huffs, "Like, do you like-like her?"
As Mike begins to shift in place, Dustin can't help but notice the way he anxiously glances from side-to-side.
"What?" Mike says, voice a little higher than usual.
"Because it's just that we agreed it wouldn't be a good idea," Dustin explains hastily, "Because we don't really know her, and if you guys broke up it'd be really awkward, and...and you said you weren't going to like or date her..."
His voice trails off weakly towards the end, but Dustin can't help it. The more he talks, the more his throat starts to dry up, the more words like 'alone,' 'forgotten,' and 'last one!' start to buzz around his head like a bunch of annoying flies.
"I don't like-like her!" Mike insists hastily, "We're just friends, I promise!"
Dustin feels a weight lift off his shoulders. He finds that he was holding his breath as he waited for Mike's reply, and consequently breathes out a small sigh of relief. "Okay, cool."
"Yeah, cool," Mike replies, glancing at his feet.
In Mike's defense, what he said isn't completely a lie. While he might like El more than a friend, he's not planning on dating her. He's not sure if El even wants to. All of their guitar lessons have been pretty uneventful. Even now that Mike's driving her to school, their rides don't consist of anything past a 'good morning' and singing along to the radio together. It's nothing like their almost-kiss or El's kiss on the cheek — it's all just-friends stuff.
Girls are so confusing, Mike thinks with a frown.
Dustin wishes Mike goodnight before heading off to bike home. Will leaves with Dustin, since Joyce is evidently still stuck at work and doesn't want Will biking home on his own. Moments later, Lucas and Max opt to head out, too, leaving Mike and El alone.
Again.
Mike returns to El's side, hoping to avoid her skeptical gaze.
"What were you and Dustin talking about?" El asks.
"Oh, you know," Mike shrugs, "Stuff."
El snorts. "That's descriptive."
"I know," Mike teases.
El rolls her eyes playfully. She's becoming aware of the fact that they're alone together, which sends her into a mood. A mood where she just wants to kiss him like she had in the car, where she wants to just be as close to him as possible, where she kind of feels lightheaded and weightless around him.
It's kind of embarrassing, really, that just Mike standing there has this effect on her, but whatever.
She sequesters her feelings by hugging Mike's arm and guiding him toward the door. "Let's go," she pleads, "You're slow."
"Slow?!" Mike smiles disbelievingly.
"Yes," El nods, still hugging his arm, "Like a slow turtle."
"That's descriptive," Mike mimics in a high-pitched voice, and though it earns him a nudge, El doesn't let go of him.
Mike leads her outside to his car. As he puts the key in the ignition, the radio turns on, El starts singing along, and Mike is once again reminded of just how adorable she is —
— he realizes he's a total liar. He totally wants to date El. He wants to be able to drive her home every night, he wants to be able to bundle her in his arms, curl his fingers into her sweaters, and bury his nose into her rose-scented hair.
El digs into her bag and pulls out a tube of cherry chapstick. As she runs it across her lips, she turns to glance at Mike worriedly. "Is everything okay?"
Mike straightens up quickly, forcing his gaze away from her lips. "Yeah! Everything's great!"
He's not sure whether that's a lie or not.
On Friday night, El gets a phone call. Since there's only one phone in the house, she has to run over to the hallway near the kitchen to answer it.
"If it's that Mike kid, tell him I wanna talk to him," Hopper says from the living room couch.
El throws him a look over her shoulder as she picks up the receiver. "That's not happening."
Hopper only smiles wryly as El raises the receiver to her ear and greets, "Hello?"
"Hey, El!" Max replies, "How's it going?"
"Max!" El brightens, "I'm doing good!"
"Max?" Hopper remarks skeptically.
"Maxine," El huffs, covering the receiver with her hand, "She's a girl."
"Oh."
El gives her dad an exasperated look before bringing her finger up to her lips and making a 'shh' signal. When Hopper only raises his hands in self-defense, El finally returns her focus to the phone call.
"So, anyway," Max is saying, "The boys never want to do 'girly' stuff with me, since they're a bunch of assholes, and going with my mom is super lame, so I just wanted to know if you wanted to go together?"
El blanches, utterly confused. "Go where?"
"To the mall?"
"Oh," El says, relieved. Then the invitation seems to reach a new level of understanding because she feels excitement bubble up in her like sparkling water. "Oh!" She repeats, more eagerly.
"I was thinking we could go tomorrow?" Max offers, "If you're not doing anything."
"You know I'm not," El jokes.
"Well, I still thought I'd ask!" Max exclaims defensively, "Like, I didn't know if you and Mike had some kind of sucking-face-fest planned or something."
El's so incredibly grateful that Max can't see how red her cheeks are right now. "We don't!" She replies, flustered.
"Shit, you're right! Those are Thursdays, aren't they?"
"Max!"
"I'm kidding!" Max insists, "...Mostly. Anyway, I'll pick you up at like, 11 or 12 tomorrow."
"Alright!" El nods. She rattles off her address to Max before the girls exchange goodbyes and end the call. El proceeds to wander into the living room, feeling somehow both bored and anxiously excited at the same time.
Hopper is seated on the couch, reviewing some old case files as Wheel of Fortune plays on the TV. As El enters, he turns to look at her expectantly. "So, you're going out tomorrow?"
"Yes," El nods, leaning against the wall as she glances at the TV, "Max wants to go to the mall."
"I guess you're just little Miss Popular now, huh?" Hopper says with a teasing smirk.
Though El rolls her eyes, she can't stop a telltale smile from curving her lips. "I have five friends — I'm not popular."
Hopper gives a conceding shrug and returns his attention back to his files. "Well," he says gruffly, "I'm glad you're making some friends, kid."
It's hard for El to think back to their days in Chicago, to the days spent alone in her room, alone in the lunchroom, alone in the classrooms, alone everywhere, really. Though she's only known the band for a little less than a month, she can't imagine what it'd be like to not eat lunch with them every day, to not spend every Tuesday in Mike's garage, to not have someone to wave at when they passed each other in the hallways. It sounds cheesy, but she feels like their friendship is making her complete somehow.
Thinking about this, she knows that she's just as happy as her dad is about the whole situation. She considers telling him all this, but instead what winds up coming out is, "The answer is playing electric guitar."
Hopper throws her a bewildered, questioning look. "What?"
El motions to the TV, where Vanna White is standing in front of a board of scrambled letters. "The answer to the show," she clarifies.
Seconds later, a contestant shouts out the answer and El is proven to be right.
"Huh," Hopper replies, sounding mildly impressed, "How'd you know that?"
"Guitar lessons," El replies with a playful smile.
Hopper gives a grunt in a response that's neither approving or disapproving as he returns to his case files.
El continues to smile as she returns to her room, eager for tomorrow's activities.
It feels like it takes forever, but Saturday morning eventually arrives, and around 11:30, Max and her big white van are parked outside El's flat. Thankfully, Hopper's already left for the station, otherwise El knows he would have had some kind of teasing comment to make about it.
El hurries outside and boards the passenger's seat. Max is seated behind the wheel, drumming her fingers against the dashboard as some classic rock plays over the radio.
"Hey, El!" She greets as El buckles herself in.
"Hi, Max!" El beams back. She glances around the van curiously, taking in all the sights. There's a tiny tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror that leaves the van smelling citrusy. When El looks behind her, she's shocked to see that the van has no back seats at all — just a big, empty space.
"That's where we keep the instruments," Max explains as she eyes El's surprised look, "You know, when we're on the road. Also, it's where creeps would put all the dead bodies, so that's kinda cool."
El gives a laugh that sounds both amused and a little alarmed.
"I'm kidding!" Max assures her, "I'm pretty sure no one's been murdered in here."
"Oh!" El relaxes.
Max gives El a teasing smile as she puts the car into drive and heads off.
"So, where's the mall?" El asks as Max speeds along.
"It's actually in the next town over, like 25 minutes away," Max explains, "Since Hawkins is too shitty and lame to have its own."
"Hawkins isn't that lame," El frowns. Though she hasn't been here long, she feels as if Max is being a little harsh. Sure, Hawkins was small, but that made it seem more...homey.
"That's only because you haven't been here long," Max snorts, "Trust me, this place is the worst."
"Why?"
"Because...it's so small. Nothing ever interesting happens around here. Everybody knows everybody and everyone's in everyone's business."
El pauses as she takes a moment to consider this. "Oh," she replies noncommittally.
"I seriously can't wait to get out of Hawkins," Max continues, "I mean, I guess that's why I care about our dweeby band so much."
"Because it'll get you out of Hawkins?" El offers.
"I mean, that's the plan, right?" Max replies, a wistful glint in her eye, "Making an album? Becoming famous? Playing all over the country?"
Deep down, El can't help but question whether their little garage band could ever reach that level of fame. It's a flighty thought for sure, but if it's what puts Max at ease, El supposes there's no harm in dwelling on it.
"Where would you — we — go?" El asks curiously.
"I've always wanted to visit New York!" Max gushes, "Or California! I've heard L.A. is like, totally tubular."
"Totally!" El smiles.
The conversation dies down after that, though afterward Max is noticeably less negative when it comes to talking about Hawkins.
As they drive along, Max starts to point out various landmarks to El like a sarcastic tour guide. There's Benny's Burgers (where you can get the most bitching food in town), the Quarry (where you could like, jump to your death or enjoy a scenic view — whichever you prefer), and a lookout point that serves as Lovers' Lane (where all the horny dweebs go to make out).
The drive to the mall goes by quickly, largely because Max is speeding like crazy.
"Speed limits are for suckers," she says as she eyes El's white-knuckled grip on the sides of the passenger's seat.
"Yeah!" El replies shakily.
Despite Max's speeding and distracted chatter, she's actually an excellent driver. She gets the girls to the mall in no time, and not once to they have to make any dangerous maneuvers or worry about almost hitting someone.
Max skids the car to a stop in the parking lot of the mall. The mall isn't terribly impressive — it's only one floor and doesn't house many stores — but by Hawkins' standards, it's basically the fanciest multiplex ever. Max knows she's seen as a tomboy by pretty much everyone, but she'd be lying if she said there's not a part of her that's stupidly happy about getting to spend the day at the mall with another girl. It feels normalizing, somehow, or at least different and exciting.
Max shows El around the mall with the chipper attitude of a real-estate agent. Half of her is hamming it up for El's sake, the other half is just the dweeby side of her that's happy to be here. Either way, El gets a good laugh out of Max's bravado, so it's worth it.
The girls spend most of the day shopping for clothes. Though their fashion styles are distinctly different — Max with her athletic hoodies and graphic t-shirts; El with her brightly colored sweaters and overalls — they still manage to have a great time looking for stuff together. The experience is pretty new for both of them, since El's been pretty much sans-friends all her life, and since whenever Max has tried to take Lucas shopping with her, he suggests that they just grab the first shirt they find and leave.
With El, Max feels free to take all the time she wants. Plus, she's not afraid to ask lame questions like, "Do these jeans make my butt look too big?" or, "Does this blue sweater clash with my hair?"
They're also willing to experiment with new clothing styles, thanks to the playful encouragement they both give each other, which is how Max winds up getting that sky-blue sweater while El purchases a pair of aviator sunglasses that are, in her words, pretty bitchin'.
"I'm glad we got to do this," Max says as she and El wander through the mall together, arms full of various shopping bags.
El's still sporting her new sunglasses, so it's kind of hard to gauge her reaction at first, but then her face brightens with an appreciative smile. "Me too!"
Max is unable to stop herself from snorting. "Why are you wearing your sunglasses inside?"
"They're cool," El pouts.
"I mean, yeah, they are, but—"
Max is cut off as El gasps excitedly.
"There's a bookstore?" El exclaims, moving her glasses up and onto her head so that she can check out the front of the bookstore outlet.
"Uh, yeah?" Max frowns, "Why? You wanna go in?"
El turns to give her a shy smile. "Can we?"
Max shrugs. "Sure?"
El leads the way into the bookstore. At first, she wanders around the aisles aimlessly, like she doesn't know what she's looking for. Then her gaze lands on the Romance section, she makes a beeline towards it, and it's painfully obvious that this is what she was searching for the entire time.
El's eyes light up with excitement as she leads Max to a section of shelves packed to the brim with paperback romance novels.
Max picks up the book that's within her closest reach and eyes it skeptically. It looks exactly like every other book in this section — a cheesy, cursive title, an even cheesier tagline, and a cover illustration of a girl leaning away from a guy that's kissing her neck or hair or ear or whatever.
"You like this kind of stuff?" Max asks, failing to keep the heavy skepticism out of her voice.
El glances over at her, already sorting through an armful of books. "They're interesting," she replies simply.
"They all look the same!" Max smirks, picking up a second book.
"They're very different," El insists.
"This is so dumb!" Max snorts, reading the back of her book, "Listen to this one."
Max clears her throat and proceeds to read the back of her book in an overly-dramatic, seductive sort of voice that causes El to burst into laughter.
"The man she'd loved had ruined her life. 'I didn't do it!' Lyn had protested, horrified, when accused of drug smuggling. But no one—customs officials or jury—had believed her. And then she discovered that her pilot boyfriend, Beric, had deliberately set her up! Her blind, trusting love rapidly turned to hate.
After three years in prison, she was determined to be revenged on Beric. So she worked out a complicated plan to get back into his life without his knowing who she was. And it worked. But not quite in the way that Lyn had intended."
By the time Max finishes, El's laughing so hard that she's attracting stares from other shoppers.
"If Lucas tried to set me up for drug smuggling, I'd kick his ass," Max jokes, setting the book aside.
El, still giggling, wipes tears of laughter from her eyes. "Lucas would never do that!"
"True," Max smirks, "He'd probably try it on Mike."
This causes El to fall into another round of laughter so enthusiastic, she nearly drops the books she's holding.
"Mike's pilot boyfriend, Lucas, had deliberately set him up!" El squeals nonsensically.
The volume of Max's laugh takes both girls by surprise, and Max is forced to quickly slap a hand over her own mouth to stop more people from staring.
"O-oh my g-god!" Max exclaims in a wheezing sort of whisper.
They continue to muffle their laughs with their hands until they get ahold of themselves. As their laughs finally die down, El pauses to ask a question that's been lingering around the back of her mind lately.
"Hey, Max?"
"Yeah?" Max asks, sighing as she wipes away her last few tears of laughter.
"Why don't Mike and Lucas get along?" El asks curiously.
Max's smile falters as she hesitates. "What do you mean?"
"It's just," El continues carefully, "Sometimes it seems like they don't like each other. Like, when they talk about who's the lead guitarist, or when they have all those competitions..."
"Oh," Max replies flatly. "Yeah. I know what you mean. I don't think it's that they dislike each other, I think it's just that Mike can be a little insensitive sometimes. It pisses Lucas off."
As El hears this, she feels a defensive sort of bitterness hit her like a kick to the gut. Mike's not insensitive — he never would be! He's the nicest, sweetest boy El's ever met, and hearing Max say negative things about him just doesn't sit well with her.
"Maybe Lucas just doesn't understand," El offers, "Mike's very sensitive."
Max gives a dismissive snort and doesn't say anything more. Though no further words on the issue are exchanged, El's pretty sure they're not in agreement. An uncomfortable tension starts to fester between the girls as they exchange awkward glances and shuffle in place.
El quickly averts her gaze to the pile of books in her arms, desperate for some way to salvage the situation. "Look at this one!" She says, holding up the book at the top of her stack, "The main character's last name is Mayfield!"
"Bullshit!" Max gasps, rushing over to El's side.
"It's true!" El smiles, proceeding to read in her own imitation of Max's dramatic narrator voice, "Honor Mayfield thought her chance meeting with respected horseman Conn Landry was a stroke of good luck. Too late, Honor realizes she's been set up, and the man she is falling for seeks to avenge a legacy of murder and betrayal. Now, Honor and Conn are tangled together in a dangerous web of deception and desire."
"They stole my name!" Max exclaims, snatching the book from El to look at it more closely, "I should sue!"
El giggles. "Sue?"
"Yeah! They're ruining the family name and making us all seem like a bunch of ditzy imbeciles!"
At that, El's laughter returns in full force. Before long, she and Max are back to cracking up over cheesy romance novels again, all tensions involving Mike and Lucas long forgotten.
Mike's never really thought of himself as a singer, but there's something about driving with El in the passenger's seat that just brings it out of him. El will be flipping through radio stations in search of a song she likes, and once she finds one, she'll start to sing.
It's totally adorable how much she gets into it. Dancing, air-guitars, the whole shebang. While El's normally pretty reserved when they're hanging out with everyone else, when it's just her and Mike, she's not afraid to goof around. When Mike sees all the fun she's having while singing, he can't help but join in, even if he doesn't sound nearly as good as she does.
Today is no different.
It's Thursday evening and the pair is headed back to Mike's house for another guitar lesson, their fourth one so far.
...Not that he's been counting, or anything. He totally doesn't spend his Wednesday night Radio Shack shifts anxiously wondering how practice is going to go, and he definitely doesn't spend his Friday night shifts analyzing every time their fingers brushed or El smiled at him.
That'd be, well, a little crazy.
Almost as crazy as what El says as she and Mike finish belting out Don't Stop Believin'
"You're a good singer," El states firmly.
Mike feels the compliment warm him from the inside out. He could swear his insides actually glowed, even though technically that wouldn't be possible. "I'm really not," he replies modestly, keeping his gaze trained on the road.
"You are," El insists, "It sounds pretty."
Mike's never been called 'pretty' before, nor did he ever think he wanted to, but at that second compliment, Mike beams from ear to ear. Pretty? El thinks his singing is pretty? This is like, the best news ever.
"Thanks," Mike replies bashfully, "But you're still prettier."
El's breath catches in a soft gasp, and that's when Mike realizes what he just said.
"I mean, your singing is prettier!" Mike quickly amends, white-knuckling the steering wheel, "I was talking about your voice, not anything else! I mean, not that you're not pretty, like, otherwise, but...I...I wasn't — "
El has to bite down on her lower lip to keep from laughing. It's always so amusing how flustered he gets over stuff like this. "Mike, it's okay," she assures him, "I understand."
Mike throws her a sheepish glance. "You do?"
El smiles and offers him a nod, which seems to put Mike at ease. His shoulders slump with relief as he returns his focus to the road.
Moments later, they arrive at the Wheeler's. Mike parks the car in the driveway and El reaches into the backseat to grab her Stratocaster which, much like herself, has basically been living in Mike's car as of late.
"I've been practicing Blackbird at home!" El eagerly reports as she and Mike walk towards the garage together, "I almost have it completely memorized!"
Mike beams proudly. "That's great, El! You know that you're like, crazy talented, right?"
El holds her guitar closer to herself and grins. A compliment from Mike was enough to leave her feeling dizzy in the best of ways. "Thank you," she replies politely.
"Maybe I'm going to have some competition as the lead guitarist," Mike jokes.
El rolls her eyes. "I think I'll stick to singing."
There's a door that leads from the outside of the house to inside the garage, so Mike brings the pair to a stop in front of it and uses his house keys to grant them access.
No cutting through the living room, El briefly thinks as she and Mike step inside the garage.
"Are your parents home?" El asks.
"Maybe, I dunno," Mike replies disinterestedly, "Why?"
El shrugs.
"Well, I saw their cars outside, so I guess they're here," Mike remarks as he turns on the garage lights and moves to grab his guitar, "But they shouldn't bother us."
"Okay," El replies.
Mike tunes up his guitar before he leads El over to the couch. Since this is their fourth lesson now, they know the drill. Mike walks her through a couple warm-up chords, El shows him what she's practiced since their last lesson, and then Mike offers further instruction.
The first couple hours of their lesson pass by smoothly. Everything's going just as usual —
Until it's not.
Mike is walking El through an intermediate chord when one of the strings on El's guitar snaps. It breaks off from the guitar with the suddenness and resulting pain of a cracking whip, causing El to grimace as the string strikes her fingers.
Mike hears this before he sees it, but El's hitched gasp and the abrupt stop to her playing is enough to get his attention quickly enough. He looks over just in time to see El drop her guitar into her lap and clutch at her hand.
"Shit!" Mike exclaims, setting his own guitar aside.
"I'm sorry!" El frets, glancing down at her guitar, "I didn't mean to do that!"
"It's okay!" Mike assures her, "It's not your fault. I've been meaning to sand down the bridge on that one."
"Oh," El replies lamely.
Mike nods before reaching forward to grab her hand that was lashed at by the broken guitar string. As he examines it, El feels heat course through her fingers like liquid fire, or electricity, or...heartbeats. It sounds ridiculous, but whenever Mike touches her, it's as if he leaves a heartbeat behind. She can feel her skin tingling and nerves pulsating erratically. Perhaps it's just all the blood flow rushing to where his hands are, furiously working to fight off the light-headed, dream-like daze Mike always manages to lure her into.
"You're not hurt, are you, El?" Mike asks concernedly.
"No!" El answers quickly, "I'm good! It's just sore!"
"Okay, good," Mike replies with relief as he gently sets her hand down, "I'm pretty sure I have some extra guitar strings in my room, plus a file to sand that bridge down so it doesn't snap any more of your strings."
"Okay?" El smiles hesitantly. As much as her guitar skills have improved, whenever Mike gets a little technical, it's still a load of nonsense words to her. Bridge? As in, the bridge of a song? File? Like a nail file?
Despite her confusion, she does her best not to let it show. She gives Mike a cheery smile as he exits the garage to get the supplies from his room.
As she waits alone, she becomes aware of how much time has passed. It's already almost 6:30 — sunset's going to be fairly soon. Then there's the second thing El becomes aware of, the thing that had previously been masked by the sounds of Mike and El strumming away.
Voices. They're muffled in dictation, but distinct in volume. She can hear them as they filter out from the house and make their way into the garage. Their tones are jarring, brash, and clearly a part of some sort of argument.
El, with a sickly feeling churning in her gut, is pretty sure she knows who the voices belong to.
Moments later, Mike returns. He's gripping a small sandpaper file in one hand and a package of guitar strings in the other. He doesn't look at El — instead, he keeps his gaze trained towards the ground as he quickly rejoins her on the couch.
El tenses, unsure if she should say anything.
"Give me your guitar," Mike instructs, voice uncharacteristically stiff.
El hands it to him.
Mike grabs it from her and gets to work filing down the bridge of the guitar. His face is darkened with an irritated scowl as he sands down the rough edge.
El eyes him cautiously. "Is everything okay?"
The muffled sounds of arguing can still be heard as Mike tosses the file aside and gets to work on replacing the string. He doesn't answer El, but he doesn't manage to fix the string either. Every time he tries to fasten it into place, his hands start to shake and he fumbles.
After several failed attempts, his hands are shaking like crazy and his breathing is becoming increasingly ragged. He keeps trying and trying, growing more and more frustrated, but to no avail.
"Mike!" El exclaims worriedly. She reaches out her hands and places them over his, halting his shaky movements, "What's wrong?"
"S'nothing," Mike replies, voice suddenly taut and hoarse, "I'm fine."
"You're not fine," El says dismissively.
Mike is silent for a moment, and El isn't quite sure if he's figuring out what to say or if he's trying to plan how to say it. Either way, a few moments of miserable silence drag by, leaving Mike's eyes red and shimmering with tears he won't allow to fall.
"My parents started arguing again," he finally admits, "Just now. I mean, they always kind of do, but it's really bad right now. They keep going back and forth and —" His voice falters, wavers, "—I'm sorry you had to hear them."
El glances towards the wall where the muffled shouts can still be heard. She almost wants to scoff in disbelief, because there's no way Mike's apologizing to her for his parents fighting. That's backward in every possible sense.
"Don't say sorry," El instructs, brushing her thumbs over his hands, "It's not your fault."
Mike nods noncommittally before falling back into another quiet stupor. El continues to hold his hands, doing her best to provide any support she can. As they sit in silence, the muffled discourse eventually fizzles out like a wet sparkler, leaving Mike and El surrounded by their own silence.
"Don't you just ever wish that you could be somewhere else?" Mike mumbles after a bit, "Just for like...a day? Or even a couple hours?" His eyes are less watery-looking, but his voice is still strained and he refuses to make eye contact with her.
El thinks back to how she felt during those long days before Hawkins, before she had friends to turn to. "Yes," she murmurs.
As Mike continues to look down at his feet, El feels herself become emboldened with the urge to protect him. She hates seeing him like this, and she refuses to let him feel sad for a second longer.
Mike continues to mope and is startled when El moves forward and carefully takes the guitar out of his hands. She sets it aside on the couch, turning to look back at him with a determined glint in her eye.
Mike frowns in bewilderment as El inches closer to him. "What are you doing?"
"I want to help," El says simply.
And that's when she sticks her hand down his pants.
Okay — not like that. But she does slip her hand into the pocket of his jeans and retrieve his car keys. Despite the innocent nature of the action, Mike still yelps and blushes like an idiot anyways.
Without so much as a semblance of an explanation, El grabs the keys, rises to her feet, and motions for Mike to follow her.
"What are you doing?" Mike asks again, still flustered as El presses the button that opens the garage door.
"Let's go," El instructs.
"Go? Where?"
"Out."
"What about our lesson?"
El gives him a flat stare. "You're upset, I can tell."
"I'll be fine, I'm pretty much used to it by now," Mike mutters.
"You shouldn't have to be," El frowns.
Mike gives a dismal shrug in response.
"You said you wanted to be somewhere else," El reminds him. She crosses the room and stops in front of the couch, using both hands to pull Mike to his feet, "So, let's go somewhere else."
Mike finally allows himself to meet her gaze. As he looks down at her standing before him, her eyes are filled with nothing but warmth, she's giving him a reassuring smile — like everything's going to be okay — and...
...Well, shit. It does something.
Mike gives her a tiny smile and nods. "Okay," he replies thickly, wiping at his eyes.
El's smile brightens as she releases his hands and begins to lead the way out of the garage. Mike makes sure to shut the door behind them as they leave, his curiosity piquing considerably as they head to his car.
El unlocks the vehicle and hops right into the driver's seat without a second thought.
Mike's eyebrows shoot upwards toward his hairline as he sits down in the passenger's seat. His somber demeanor is quickly replaced with shocked curiosity as El prepares to drive his car. "I thought you didn't have your license!"
"I don't," El shrugs, buckling herself in.
"Do you even know how to drive?" Mike exclaims, following her action.
"A little," El shrugs again, slipping the keys into the ignition, "I've practiced with my dad."
Mike doesn't know whether to feel shocked, defensive, awed, or a combination of all of the above. He only winds up blinking at her, clearly baffled and looking like a wastoid.
"You're gonna get us in so much trouble!" He finally manages to say.
"My dad's the chief of police," El reminds him with a smirk.
She's crazy, but also completely incredible. Mike thinks he might love her.
The latter thought flashes through his mind as abruptly as a streak of lightning. Love her? No, he can't love her. He's never been in love with anyone, and he's pretty sure it takes longer than a month to fall in love with someone.
And yet...
When El starts pulling the car out of the driveway with a mischievous glint in her eye, when she turns on the radio and starts humming along, when she takes her eyes off the road just to throw Mike a quick, affectionate grin, Mike's heart continues to whisper the "L" word to him like a secret it's been keeping.
Love, love, love. You're falling in love.
The thought is both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, and all Mike's left to do is just sit back and literally enjoy the ride.
As El continues to drive, she glances around the streets curiously. To be completely honest, she has no clue where she's going. Not only because she doesn't know Hawkins that well, but also because the sun has set and everything is dark indigo or deep black. It's hard to recognize any streets or familiar places.
Still, she keeps driving. She has to find something — anything — to keep Mike's mind off his parents. She'll drive around all night if it'll cheer him up.
Thankfully, it doesn't take all night. After about 10 minutes of cruising through Hawkins, the glow of a particular neon sign catches El's eye.
Yes, this should do.
She pulls into the parking lot, impressed with her own driving abilities. All those times goofing off with her dad in the police cruiser have finally paid off.
Mike glances out the window skeptically. "Why are we at a 7-Eleven?"
"Max said that you guys like coming here for slushies," El replies, hoping she hasn't gotten that fact wrong. It'd be super embarrassing if she'd misheard Max and just driven to a random convenience store.
Thankfully, she hadn't misheard Max. It's at this random convenience store that Mike and his friends have spent so many late nights and summer afternoons. Whenever they get in a snacky mood, they head here and stick up in potato chips, candy, and an unhealthy amount of Slurpees.
Mike knows it's pretty lame, but he can't stop himself from smiling like an idiot. "Uh, yeah, we do."
"Then let's get some," El smiles, putting the car into park. She takes the car keys and tosses them to Mike before exiting the car.
Mike gets out of the car and follows after her eagerly. This whole night is totally weird so far, but he finds that he's loving every moment of it.
Her, her, her, his heart teases, you're loving her.
Mike brushes the thought aside as they enter the building. El glances around before her gaze lands on the slushie machine in the corner. With a confident stride in her step, she moves right over to it, causing Mike to have to hurry to keep up with her.
The shop is lit with both fluorescent white ceiling lamps and strips of green and red neon lights that line the rim of the ceiling. It leaves Mike and El's faces oddly discolored as they come to a stop in front of the Slurpee machine.
The machine makes a droning whirring sound as it mixes the Slurpees around. As El contemplates the three flavors (cherry, blue raspberry, and Coke), Mike grabs a pair of styrofoam cups for them to use.
"So, what kind are you going to get?" Mike asks, handing her the cup.
El looks up at him curiously. "What kind do you like?"
Mike shrugs. "I think they're all pretty good, but I usually go with Blue Raspberry. It makes your tongue turn all purple!"
El's brow crinkles as she gives him a bemused smile before turning back to the machine. "I think..." she begins slowly, "I'm going to get...all of them."
Mike pauses. "Wait, what?"
Without further ado, El takes one of the cups from his hand and proceeds to fill it with shots from each flavor.
Mike, once again, doesn't know whether to feel alarmed or awed.
"You're crazy!" He finally manages to blurt out, but even as the words leave his mouth, he's smiling.
"You said they were all good!" El shrugs, capping off her creation.
"Yeah, I didn't mean together!"
El only smiles as she sticks a straw into her cup and takes a long sip.
"Ugh, you're so gross," Mike teases.
"It's good!" El smiles, "You should try it."
"No way!"
"Do it!" El encourages, giving him a light nudge, "You'll like it."
Mike's 99% positive he won't, but with the cute smile El's giving him and the way her hand lingers on his arm after she nudges him, he's pretty sure that El could be asking him to jump off a cliff right now and he'd totally swan-dive right off of it.
"Okay!" He complies, "I'll try it."
El cheers as Mike steps forward and fills his cup with all three flavors. The slushie flavors mix together and turn into a peculiar mauve color that's not exactly appetizing, but Mike tries not to dwell on that for too long.
He caps off his drink, slips a straw in it, takes a sip, and —
— It's basically exactly what he'd thought it'd be. All the flavors have just blended together to create an icy flavor of just pure syrupy sugar. He kind of hates it, but he finds himself taking more sips anyway.
"This is awful," he says as he continues to drink the Slurpee.
"It's great!" El contends. She remains nothing but chipper as she grabs his hand and leads him up to the cash register.
As Mike digs out his wallet to pay, disregarding El's pouty protests that she can pay since it was her idea, she continues to hold his hand.
Something about it just feels so right — being out and about, holding hands, Mike paying for them. It's almost like...well, a date.
Mike knows it's technically not since he didn't ask her or anything, but he's still overcome with the desire to make this the best sort-of-a-date that El's ever had.
After paying for their Slurpees, Mike leads them back to his car, choosing to get behind the driver's wheel this time.
"Let's blow this popsicle stand," Mike jokes as El gets into the passenger's seat and he starts the car.
"Slushie stand," El playfully corrects.
Mike sticks out his tongue at her teasingly, which causes El to crack up.
"You're tongue is already purple!" She gleefully points out.
"So is yours!" Mike counters with a grin.
El sticks out her tongue and cranes her neck to check out her reflection in the rear-view mirror. "It is!" She exclaims giddily.
Mike fights back the urge to kiss her right then and there. The desire to capture her lips in his, to slip her tongue right into his mouth, is so overwhelming and sudden it nearly knocks the wind out of him.
He feels his face flame in a hot blush at the audacity of his own thoughts, and he has to force himself to stare out the dashboard as he pulls out of the parking lot. He seriously needs to chill out.
Thank god he's got the terrible slushie.
Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, he grabs his cup and takes a long sip, relishing its icy cooling effect.
"So, where are we going?" El asks as Mike continues to drive. She looks out the window as she poses her question, distracted by the dramatic shadows Mike's headlights cast against the trees.
"Ummm," Mike hesitates, setting his drink back down, "...Somewhere."
El has a feeling he's in the same position she was earlier — aimlessly searching for someplace to go. She doesn't mind though — the more time she gets to spend with Mike, the better.
They drive through the dark for about 15 minutes before Mike finally finds a place to stop.
The lookout point.
Aka, Lovers' Lane.
Aka, where horny dweebs go to make out.
El feels her heartbeat speed up as Mike pulls the car to a stop. He turns off the engine but keeps the ignition turned on, allowing for the heat to continue to flow and the radio to still play.
"Why did you want to come here?" El asks casually, hoping she's not smiling too much.
"Oh, you know," Mike replies just as casually, "I just thought it'd be nice to find a quiet space."
"At Lovers' Lane?" El giggles, unable to help herself.
Despite how dark it is, Mike's blush could be visible from miles away. "Y-you know about Lovers' Lane?" He stammers.
"I'm new, not stupid," El replies lightly, "Max told me."
"Oh," Mike flushes, "Well...I...I didn't bring us here for that. I just...I wanted to get away from everything for awhile. Plus, it's really pretty out here."
"It is," El nods as she looks out the window. The lookout point is a large cliff top that overlooks a large valley. There's a fence that guards the edge, but beyond that, there's nothing but sprawling trees. As they're now well into October, the trees are awash with reds, oranges, and yellows. Though the sun is a mere sliver of light on the dark horizon, it's enough to illuminate the fantastic view so El can enjoy it.
The radio continues to play some classic rock love songs as Mike and El sit. While they're able to enjoy the scenic view, they also find themselves racking their brains for something to say.
Mike finally breaks the silence with a tentative mumble. "Thanks for spending time with me."
El turns to look at him, puzzled. "What?"
"You know," Mike shrugs, "Just...going out for slushies, and coming here, and just...being with me."
El gazes at him softly. Though his words are kind and affectionate, there's no mistaking the somber edge to his voice. He's clearly still brooding on what happened with his parents, even though El suspects he doesn't want to.
El can't help but question whether Mike even has anyone to discuss his parental problems with. As far as she knows, it's not something that the rest of the band members have ever mentioned.
Do they even know? El wonders concernedly. Regardless, she instantly takes it upon herself to be someone Mike can confide in. She wants him to know that she cares, that she's here for him.
"C'mon," El instructs, unbuckling her seatbelt, "Let's talk."
Mike's brow furrows. "What?"
"We should talk," El reiterates. She grabs her Slurpee cup in one hand and proceeds to climb over the gearshift and make her way to the back of Mike's car. It takes a little bit of awkward maneuvering, but she finally takes her seat in the far more spacious backseat.
"Come here," she instructs, patting the seat beside her.
"Why back there?"
"It's less awkward," El answers, motioning to the gearshift and dashboard.
"I guess you're right," Mike complies, and with that, he's taking his drink and awkwardly trying to move into the backseat.
He's so tall and lanky that his limbs have to bend and stretch at odd angles in order from him to climb over the gearshift and squeeze past the two front seats, but he somehow manages to make it work. Once Mike's settled, the two sit facing each other, knees propped up on the seat and backs resting against the side doors of the car. As El looks at Mike seated across from her, she rests the back of her head against the cool glass of the window.
Mike chews on his bottom lip and eyes her somewhat nervously. "So...uh...what did you wanna talk about?"
"You're still upset," El replies simply, "You should let it out."
Mike gives a huffy sigh in reply, ready to rattle off another excuse. "I told you, El, I'm fine. This kind of stuff happens all the time, and—"
"Mike," El cuts off, voice eerily cold. She's clearly not having any of his wishy-washy deflections.
Mike's voice comes to a faltering stop. Before he can stop himself, his mind takes him back to the living room earlier tonight, when he'd unknowingly walked into yet another one of his parents' arguments.
Thank god Holly was probably already in bed when it happened.
But that's what just kills him. He knows that there are times when his little sister hasn't been lucky enough to be asleep, when he's had to desperately do his best to distract her from all the noise. It was easier when Nancy was still here, but now that things are getting increasingly worse and his older sister is gone, Mike just doesn't know how to keep up anymore.
So much for this being the best sort-of-date ever.
"This kind of stuff happens all the time," Mike repeats, only this time his tone isn't flippant, but overwhelmed with exhaustion, "It used to just be once in awhile, but now it's practically once a week. Sometimes more."
Mike's gaze is distant and unfocused as he speaks, as if his mind is completely lost in some other place. El feels her eyes start to smart as she looks at him worriedly.
"I'm just so tired of it," Mike continues, grasping his styrofoam cup tightly, "I just wish they'd stop. But I'm worried…I'm worried that stopping means they're gonna split up, like, for good. I don't want our family to be all screwed up, but I don't want them to keep fighting, either."
As he processes his own words, he realizes that he's probably not making much sense. "I don't know," he adds lamely, voice laden with an embarrassed, somber weight, "It's hard to explain."
"No, I understand," El murmurs in reply, "I've felt the same way."
Mike glances up at her in startled surprise. "You have?"
Here we go.
El's spent so much time trying to not think about her mother that thinking of her turns out to be a tremendously strenuous effort. She finds herself growing physically tired as she puts herself back in those times that were so terribly similar to Mike's.
El digs her nails into the foam Slurpee cup, idly picking away at it as she starts to talk. "My Mom is...gone."
"Gone?" Mike frowns.
"She walked out," El clarifies, and shit, why is her voice suddenly so hoarse? She shouldn't be upset about this, she shouldn't even care about this terrible person. "She left me and my dad and she's not coming back. She doesn't care."
Mike looks at her remorsefully. "I'm sorry."
El shrugs, flicking flecks of styrofoam off her fingers, "It's okay. It happened a couple years ago. My dad is better without her."
Mike isn't quite sure how he should reply to that, so he settles for a brief nod.
A bitter silence settles over the pair, and for several moments the only sounds to be heard are the faint blowing of heat through the car vents and the soft music playing over the radio.
Mike keeps turning El's sentence over in his mind: My dad is better off without her. Would his mom be better off without his dad?
A part of him already thinks he knows the answer.
When Mike speaks again, he can feel his eyes start to burn and his fingers begin to shake again. "I think my mom would be better off without my dad, but...that really scares the shit out of me."
"Why?" El asks gently.
"Because," Mike begins, falters, "Because sometimes it makes me scared that I'm going to wind up like that. That someone is going to grow up and be better off without me."
He's still not making much sense, but he can't stop talking. As terrible as he feels, there's something immensely therapeutic about getting all these fears he's been harboring for so long off his chest.
"I don't want to be like him," Mike continues, voice low and a little desperate, "I don't wanna grow up to be some deadbeat who never has time for his family."
"You're not going to be like that!" El assures him.
Mike glances at her warily. "How do you know?"
"Because, you're...you're different," El answers, trying to think of a more eloquent way to express her thoughts, "You're kind and you care about your friends and your family. You're considerate and patient and you're just...different and...and I'd be worse off without you."
As she and Mike's gazes lock, she can see that his eyes are shimmering with tears he's refusing to let fall. He's still holding back, still trying to keep it all in, and it's killing El to see it.
There's a pair of cup holders in front of the backseat, so El sets down her drink before crawling over to Mike.
Mike hears his breath catch as El wraps her arms around him and pulls him in for a hug. She snuggles close to him and tucks her head under his chin. His nose is filled with the smell of rose perfume and soft cotton and though her embrace is so simple, there's something so profoundly reassuring about it.
Mike sets down his drink in the cup holder and hugs her back tightly, grasping her like the life preserver he needs to stay afloat in a tumultuous sea.
As Mike clutches her, El hears him take a deep, rattling breath. She can feel the top of her head start to feel a little damp, and that's when she realizes he's finally letting his tears fall.
She wants to tell him everything's going to be okay, but she's not naive enough to believe that, and she doesn't want to lie to him. Instead, she tells him something that she knows is completely true.
"I'm here," she promises him.
Mike almost wants to laugh, because it's ridiculous how much of an effect two simple words have on him. Just having her in his arms like this makes him feel so much safer. Like, the rest of his problems, while still miserable, don't seem so crushingly overwhelming anymore.
Love, love, love. He loves her so much in this moment and honestly who gave a shit if it was too fast or too soon — he's never needed anyone or anything more.
"I wouldn't leave you," Mike mumbles, voice muffled by her hair, "Like, never."
"I know," El mumbles back, burrowing closer to him.
And that's enough.
They continue to hold each other for what feels like eons. The moment is finally broken when the music fades and the radio announcer loudly begins rattling off the weather report for the upcoming weekend.
"Can we talk about something else?" Mike mumbles, "I mean, I'm glad we gotta talk about all of this, but I don't really want to think about it anymore."
El nods into his chest. "Okay." With that, she pulls back to examine his face thoughtfully. "What do you wanna talk about?"
"You," Mike answers truthfully.
El feels her cheeks grow warm. "Oh."
"It's just," Mike continues, looking somewhat flustered, "I wanna know more about you. I wanna know like, everything."
"Then you should get to know me," El replies abashedly, "Because I wanna know everything, too."
Mike gives the smallest of smiles, and it's like sunlight peeking through the dark clouds after a storm. "You do?" He asks, sounding like he doesn't want to get too hopeful.
El nods and smiles back. "I like you," she says. She hadn't planned on saying that — the words kind of just fell right out of her mouth before she could stop them. Despite the hot wave of embarrassment that rushes over her, it's hard to regret her words once Mike starts to smile even more.
"I like you too," Mike says quietly.
Their faces are flushed as they glance at the other, both questioning whether or not 'like' means anything more (it totally does).
Now that El's got him smiling, she doesn't want to stop. She wants to chase away all of his worries and fears and leave him with nothing but reassuring comfort. She needs to think of a way to get his mind off of everything troubling him.
Her gaze flits about the car before landing on their cups.
"We should play a game," she suggests suddenly, her mind going back to a bunch of movies and TV shows that she's watched.
"A game?" Mike echoes, sounding perplexed.
"Yes," El nods. She pulls away from Mike to grab her Slurpee. The syrupy juice has started to settle near the bottom, so she gives the cup a good shake to mix it all up again. "Never Have I Ever."
"What's that?"
"It's a way to get to know each other," El explains, "You tell the other person something you've never done, and if they've done it, they have to take a drink."
El pauses as she reflects on the TV shows where she's seen this happen. "I think you're supposed to have alcohol, but slushies are just as good."
Mike feels himself brighten. This could definitely be interesting. "Okay," he shrugs, grabbing his cup, "I guess we could try."
"I'll start," El announces. She slides away from him and returns to her original position of sitting with her back to the door.
Mike eyes her expectantly as the radio announcer finally starts playing some music again.
"Never have I ever..." El begins slowly, "Watched a scary movie."
"So, if I've done that, I have to take a drink?" Mike clarifies.
"Yes."
Mike nods understandingly and proceeds to take a sip of his Slurpee.
El smiles encouragingly. "You've got it!" she praises.
Mike smiles appreciatively. "How have you never seen a scary movie though?"
"I don't like them," El confesses.
"They're not so bad," Mike shrugs, "They're all kind of the same, really. We'll just have to watch one together sometime."
El tries not to look too eager by that idea. "We should," she replies breezily.
A beat of silence passes between them, so El gently nudges him with her foot. "Your turn!"
"Oh! Right!" Mike blushes, "Uhh...okay, let me think."
El gives him time to come up with a question, taking the opportunity to check him out a little longer. His skin is pale in the moonlight that shines through the car windows, and the lower lip he's biting on as he thinks looks invitingly soft. His cheeks shine with the iridescent trails of wiped-away tears, and though it reminds El of the somberness they're so avidly ignoring, she also notes that it makes him look more ethereal somehow.
"Never have I ever," Mike finally begins, "Cheated on a test."
El blushes and takes a sip.
Mike's eyes widen as wide as if El had just confessed to like, murder or something. "You have?!"
"Only twice!" El exclaims in defense, "I'm really bad at English, so a couple times I copied some definitions onto my arm."
Mike grins at her. "Wow. So, you're a car thief and a cheater?"
El rolls her eyes playfully and nudges him with her foot again. "I didn't steal your car, dummy. You were in the passenger's seat."
"Likely story," Mike says with an exaggerated sense of suspicion, and El quickly finds herself holding back giggles.
"Okay!" El continues, moving the conversation along, "Never have I ever...broken a bone."
Mike shrugs before taking a sip.
El's curiosity piques. "When?"
"When Lucas and I raced bikes," Mike answers, "I sprained my ankle when I hit the tree."
"That's not breaking a bone!" El snorts.
"It almost is."
"Still! It's a sprain!"
"Well, sorry!" Mike apologizes, "I guess I shouldn't have drunk, then."
"You shouldn't have," El chastises teasingly.
"I guess I'll just have to put it back," Mike shrugs. He puckers his lips and leans over the cup like he's about to spit his Slurpee back into it.
"Stop!" El exclaims, leaning forward to swat him on the arm, "That's so gross!"
Mike grins impishly as he straightens up. "You scared of a little spit?" He teases.
El knows that that probably wasn't meant to have like, a double meaning to it, but she still blushes anyway. "I'm not scared," she scoffs, "You're just gross."
"You like it, though," Mike says, and though his tone is nonchalant, his mind is pleading please like it, please like me.
El only smiles and raises an eyebrow. "It's your turn."
Mike feels his heart skip a beat as he eyes her. He debates whether or not he should say what he wants to say, but after all the sugar he's had and what an emotional night it's been so far, he finds himself feeling increasingly emboldened.
El watches as a shy smile curves his lips. He's so pretty, she finds herself thinking. Knowing how sweet he is as a person only makes this thought radiate further within her.
"Never have I ever...not had a crush on somebody," Mike states carefully.
How smooth.
El gives him a wry smirk and doesn't touch her drink.
"Who did you have a crush on?" Mike asks eagerly.
Michael Wheeler, for one. For two—
"There was a guy in my Algebra class," El replies truthfully, "At my old school. But I didn't know him and I never talked to him. He was a transfer student, so I thought his accent was nice."
Mike briefly debates whether or not he should try to get an accent, but ultimately decides against it. "Oh," he replies casually.
"Who did you have a crush on?" El asks curiously.
Mike feels his throat dry up as a blush rushes to his cheeks. "Uhhh..."
Shit, he should have thought this plan through. He frantically thinks back through his memories and is relieved to remember that he actually has had crushes other than El.
"There was this one girl," Mike replies, "At science camp."
El giggles. "You went to science camp?"
"I did!" Mike laughs, gently nudging her with his foot, "It was cool, okay?"
"Oh, yes," El replies, nodding sarcastically, "Very cool."
"Shut up!" Mike beams, "Anyway, she like, built this model rocket, and it actually could like, fly and stuff, and I just thought that was the coolest thing ever."
El gives him an affectionate grin. She feels like a part of her should hate hearing stories about Mike liking other girls, but she's too distracted by how adorable the image of a young Mike geeking out at science camp would be.
"Anyway, it's your turn," Mike concludes, slouching back against the door.
El bites down on her lip as she considers her words. She knows what she wants to say. All this talk about crushes and spit has kind of spurred it on, but she doesn't know if she's bold enough to actually say it.
"Never have I ever..." El begins hesitantly.
Mike meets her gaze. His hair is dark and wavy, his lips are still soft, his eyes are gentle, his cheeks are dotted with endless amounts of freckles, and —
Yup, she's totally gonna say it.
"...Kissed somebody."
The words leave her mouth, and Mike and El both feel the effect of them as their hearts skip a beat and their stomachs drop.
Did she really just say that? Mike blushingly thinks, but as El gives him a shy, expectant look, he realizes that she really did.
Mike doesn't touch his drink.
"You haven't?" El asks, sounding oddly relieved.
"No," Mike admits.
"Oh," El replies.
They both fall silent. As they sit, the radio DJ announces that Fooled Around and Fell in Love by Elvin Bishop is up next on the tracklist, and the song begins to filter through the car's speakers.
Maybe it's the song, or the sugar, or the heart-to-heart they'd had earlier, but Mike finds himself talking before he can stop himself.
"Maybe we should, you know, try it," He quickly suggests.
El's eyes widen. "What?"
"Just to get it over with and see what it's like!" Mike adds hastily.
El feels her entire body grow warm. "We should," she echoes, nodding adamantly, "Just to see what it's like."
Mike gives her an anxious smile. "Okay, cool."
El nods shyly. She cautiously sets her drink down in the cup holder, heartbeat quickening as Mike follows suit.
Oh god, this is really happening.
Mike and El both eye each other nervously.
"So, should I just..." Mike begins awkwardly, motioning between them.
El blushes for the millionth time tonight. "Here," she offers. She gently moves his feet onto the floor, slides across the backseat, and sits in front of him. It's kind of a weird position, but it puts her at eye level with him.
Mike looks into her eyes. Her face is soft, yearning, and only inches away from his.
It's just to see what it's like, Mike reassures himself, There's no pressure.
Of course, he's pretty sure they both know that's not true, but whatever. Even if it is the biggest lie in the world, it gives Mike the strength to slowly move in, close the gap between them, and place his lips against hers in a gentle kiss.
And —
Holy shit.
Mike isn't quite sure what he expected kissing to be like, but regardless, El definitely blows every possible expectation out of the water. Her lips are soft as they press into his. Her fingers brush against his chest, leaving his skin feeling all tingly beneath his shirt.
It's all instinct, like Mike's body is moving on autopilot. He feels his hands come up to cup her cheeks, holding her closer to him. As El hums against his mouth, he cautiously runs his tongue against her lower lip, tasting her cherry chapstick and that absurd slushie combination that's somehow so much better when mingled with the taste of El.
They stay locked in that embrace — hesitant touches, hitched breaths, pulling back before moving in for more — for what feels like an eternity, but what's actually only a minute or less. After the minute is up, they pull back to catch their breaths, both looking a little starry-eyed.
El is literally breathless. In all the soap operas she watches and romance novels that she reads, the first kiss between a couple was always so passionate and salacious. This kiss hadn't been like that at all — it was soft and gentle, and Mike had held her like she was made of glass, not fiery embers of lust, or whatever the last book she read had said.
While it was perfect in its own right, she finds herself desperate for more.
"Wow," Mike says hoarsely, his eyes dark and his cheeks flushed, "That was—"
"Good," El finishes, "Really good."
Mike smiles at her, looking relieved.
There are a few moments of silence as they continue to exchange blushing, hopeful glances, neither really moving away.
"Maybe we should—" Mike begins hopefully, inching in a little closer.
El's on the same brainwave he is. "More," she smiles.
They move in again and then they're right back where they left off.
The second time their lips meet, its more along the lines of one of El's novels. They're both so eager that their kisses are quicker, hastier, and a little messier. El just wants to know everything. She wants to know what it feels like to kiss his cheeks and nose (amazing). She wants to see what'll happen if she kisses his neck with a little more pressure (Mike gasps, it's also amazing).
The word 'wanton' pops up in a lot of the novels, and it's in this moment that El actually starts to get what it really means. She wants and wants and she doesn't think she'll ever be able to get enough of this, enough of Mike. She almost beats herself up for not doing this sooner; during all those guitar lessons and car rides they could have been doing this — why weren't they always doing this?
El's not sure who causes it, but in a flurry of heated touches and blind blissfulness, she finds herself lying on her back on the backseat. Maybe it was her doing, because her legs were starting to hurt from that awkward position, or maybe it was Mike's, because his eyes are so dark as he moves to lay over her.
Maybe it was a combination of both of them — that seems pretty likely too.
His kisses are growing increasingly needier and El feels her heart start to race in her chest. It's beating so fast she's certain it's going to fly right out.
Let it, El thinks nonsensically, who even cares, really?
As she allows herself to get lost in this blissful moment, everything else becomes irrelevant. Any sounds other than their own shaky breathing and sloppy kisses fade away. She doesn't hear the crickets, the low hum of the radio, or the splash of one of their legs knocking over a Slurpee cup and sending it to the floor.
It's just her and Mike. Mike and El. Michael and Eleanor. El Wheeler. Mike —
— pulling away from her, breaking their kiss.
El blinks up at him, feeling startled. Why did he have to stop? Was something wrong?
"Mike?" She asks worriedly.
Mike is slightly out of breath as he looks down at her, brow furrowed in concern. "W-we shouldn't tell anyone," He stammers, "About this."
Huh?
"This?" El echoes.
"You know," Mike blushes, "That we...uh...kind of...like each other. And that we kissed."
El feels two emotions hit her at once. The first is happiness, because yes, they like each other and Mike is so amazing and kissing him is the best thing ever.
The second emotion, a much stronger emotion, is hurt. Why doesn't Mike want anyone to know about this? Is he ashamed of her?
El frowns as her heart begins to sink. "What?"
Mike fidgets anxiously as he tries to phrase his reply without hurting her feelings, if that's even possible. "My friends...our friends...don't want us to date."
"What?!"
"Dustin and Lucas, mostly! They think that if we start dating, the band is going to break up."
"That doesn't make sense."
"I know it doesn't. But they keep going on and on about Yoko Ono, and how when she started dating John Lennon the Beatles broke up, and they're just freaking out over it, and I don't wanna piss them off."
El pouts as she lies back on the seat. She hates knowing that Lucas and Dustin are secretly distrustful of her in this way. It makes her feel deceived, somehow. "They don't like me?" El murmurs.
"No!" Mike insists, "They do! They're just nervous is all. They want the band to be okay."
It still doesn't make any sense to El. Why are they just assuming that she would ruin things? It's a little unfair, to be honest, and El's not sure if she should feel sad or angry.
"Oh," she mutters bitterly.
"I'm sorry," Mike says sincerely. He reaches out his hand and gently rubs his thumb over her cheek. "I know it's dumb, but...I just don't want them to get mad."
At least that makes some sort of sense. As much as this news bothers El, she definitely doesn't want to start drama with the band, nor get everyone else mad at Mike.
"Okay," El complies with a sigh, "I won't tell anyone."
Mike's body visibly slackens with relief. "Thanks," he replies, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
Despite El's pensive concerns, when Mike starts peppering her cheeks, nose, and forehead with soft little kisses, she finds herself staying upset for a grand total of zero seconds.
"Maybe it'll even be kind of fun," Mike murmurs against her skin, "Getting to be all sneaky."
El doesn't know how he's able to make her smile, even when she doesn't want to. "You're going to get us in so much trouble!" She exclaims, mimicking his sentiment from earlier as she nudges him.
Mike meets her gaze to smile in response, looking stupidly excited.
As El beams back at him, she starts to feel what he's getting at. There's something alluring about this whole thing — it feels like they're star-crossed lovers from some pulpy romance novel, forced into a forbidden love affair. It's exciting and somewhat dangerous, and the more El thinks about this, the easier it is to push aside the little voice in her head that's telling her this might not be a good idea.
So, that's probably why she curls her fingers in the front of his shirt, pulls him back to her, and starts kissing him again — it's exciting.
It's also because she just really, really wants to.
So, despite how badly El wants to talk about how amazing Mike is, how they totally shared their first kisses at Lover's Lane, of all places, how when he drove her home, he kissed her cheek goodnight and El responded by tickling his sides, how Mike's laugh filled her ears and her heart and something else, something more —
— she doesn't tell anyone. She keeps all of these blissful, rose-colored memories to herself, reminiscing on them long after Mike's car backs out of her driveway, long after she retires to her room for the night, and well into the time she spends lying awake in bed, gaze directed out her window, counting the stars.
[A/N]: And so the plot thickens!
And I know what you're thinking: YES, those romance books are real books, Mayfield and all.
Once again, thanks for reading! Love you guys!