Clemen's Bookstore on Prospect Street is on the 'bad side' of town. At least, that's what people like her parents and their friends call it. A poorer area, where bars, small shops, drunks, and punks can be found. The alleyways between the buildings have graffiti, trash, and glass from broken beer bottles that can be seen when driving past them. That alone is enough to get someone to turn up their nose. Appearances matter and this section failed miserably.
When the '83 Buick Riviera pulls up in front of the old shop, it's already dark out. Chrissy's been to this place a few times in the past. The bookstore closer to home didn't carry a series she got hooked on. After scouring through the yellow pages, Clemen's came up. Its owner is a kind older man, who was willing to order books for her if they weren't on the shelves or not in their stock. Right now, it's being used as an excuse to get down here.
"Are you sure you don't want me to wait? I know I already asked a few times but I just want to make sure."
"No, it's fine. I'm going to be here for a while… I have a way home." Hopefully. If not, this will be pretty embarrassing. Grabbing the small purse by her feet, she scoots over and opens the car door.
"Chris? Stay safe. Give me a call when you get home, okay? So I can have some peace of mind."
"I will." She smiles and nods, giving her friend a small wave before turning away. This is it. Walking towards the building, her eyes watch the glow from the headlights against the front shift to the side as the car turns around. Charlotte's leaving. All she needs to do is take her time walking to the door until the Buick is completely gone.
Once the brunette tears out of the parking lot, Chrissy lets out a sigh of relief. Now onto the real plan. It's almost hard to believe any of this is happening. She's doing a lot of awful things lately… Hiding stuff from Jason, lying to him and Charlotte, keeping secrets from her friends, sneaking out, and going places that would give her father a stroke if he found out. It doesn't feel good.
'Am I a bad person? I don't know… It's not like I want to deceive anyone. They just won't understand.'
It's only a matter of time, though. She can feel it in her gut. Eventually—maybe sooner than expected—a choice has to be made. Graduation and deadlines are coming up. Jason, his parents, and her dad are expecting her to go to IU Bloomington. The semester begins in September. That's almost seven months away. Does she go with the plan or try to forge her own path? The right answer is obvious but easier said than done.
'There's too much to think about. I have more important things to worry about right now.'
This is unfamiliar territory. Staying alert is crucial, especially as a young woman alone at night. But it's for a good cause. Chrissy is nervous and excited all at once. Just like with the D&D session, she's getting a chance to dip her toes into his world. Eddie's bent over backward for her these last few weeks. This is an opportunity for her to give support to a good friend.
Striding down the wide sidewalk, her eyes dart around the area. Taking in all the details and trying to stay aware, just in case. Most stores are closed now or will be very soon. Those still open are pawnshops, bars, and places that sell alcohol or cigarettes. At least, according to the many neon signs and light boxes in front of the businesses.
The space between the buildings gets wider as she heads further down the street. This is nerve-wracking. A small hand grips the long purse strap, clenching it against her body. It should be coming up soon. Passing a vacant lot surrounded by a chain-link fence, she stops when something catches her attention. A large plywood sign haphazardly attached to it. Written across it is 'The Hideout' in black and red spray paint with a big arrow pointing straight ahead.
'Bingo!'
Picking up the pace, a decent-sized parking lot comes into view. A brick building with cars and motorcycles smack dab in the middle of it. The nervousness from before intensifies as she gets closer, seeing the lit-up sign with 'The Hideout' in bold red letters. This is it. She didn't notice it before when driving by, but the windows have thick metal bars on them. Right in front of the deep red curtains. Like the ones in prison cells on TV.
"Okay." Chrissy breathes out, trying to shake the anxiety out of her arms. This doesn't look like the kind of place someone like her would go to. Not at all. Another fish out of water moment. Noticing a few people out front of the establishment only solidifies that idea. They're leaning up against the wall, smoking. From her point of view, they look scary. The way Eddie did for the longest time.
A guy wearing a denim vest with no shirt underneath, even though it's chilly out. He's going to get sick like that… Another with a band shirt on and red pants, sporting a mohawk. Then there's a woman. Her short, wild bleached blonde hair quickly draws the cheerleader's gaze. It's so bright, even in the darkness. A leather jacket, short black skirt, fishnet stockings, and boots. So, this is how the people here dress? As she thought, there is nothing in the wardrobe at home that would've helped her fit in.
'I'm not so sure I can do this after all.'
"Hey, sweetheart. You lost?" The cheerleader gasps and jumps when an arm wraps around her shoulders. She freezes for a moment in panic, then slowly turns to look up at the stranger. A tall man with light brown hair long enough that it reaches his chest. Early 20s, for sure. It's the smell that gets her first. An awful mixture of cigarettes, sweat, and alcohol causes her nose to crinkle. "What's a cute girl like you doing 'round here, hmm?"
This guy is so drunk, he's leaning into her. One step to the side and he might just tumble right over. Still, she doesn't know what to do. He's a lot bigger and, no doubt, stronger. Wasted or not. Like the man in the vest, this person is also a fan of not wearing a shirt. Just a leather jacket. His shiny, sweaty chest is only inches from touching her hair.
"There's nothing for you in there. Trust me. I know your type. If you're lookin' for trouble, I'm right here." The words come out clearly for someone so obviously wasted. He groans, stumbling a step forward and almost knocking her over. "C'mon. Let's beat it."
"Please leave me alone. I don't want to have to pepper spray you." It's a struggle to say it confidently, but she almost manages it. Her voice is too soft to intimidate anyone. And having a short stature doesn't help, either.
The guy chuckles, leaning back to get a better look at her. Eyes glazed over and pupils dilated. But he smirks from above, making the cheerleader feel incredibly small. "You're cute."
'What a creep.'
Discomfort and a sense of helplessness turn into indignation. This person thinks she's a joke. A tiny toy for him to play around with. Maybe even something else. There's still the worry that saying or doing the wrong thing could set him off. But staying still and hoping he goes away isn't working.
"I'm serious." Chrissy gives him a hard look, slowly reaching toward her purse. This isn't how she imagined any of this going. If he won't back away, there's not much of a choice in the matter.
The smirk on the man's face falters. Craning his neck back, he blinks a few times in an attempt to focus his gaze on her. Maybe to see if she's serious about the threat? Hopefully it's not put to the test. A strange expression flashes across his features and he quickly pulls away, close to falling over. "Demon girl..." He breathes out, trying to back off yet too drunk to figure out which way to go.
"What the fuck, man!" The vest guy from right out front of the building runs over and yells. It only takes him a few seconds to reach them, with him firmly grabbing the drunk by his collar. "I take my eyes off you for one minute." Finally, the jerk doesn't seem to have anything to say. Just sways in place while staring at her as the other man shakes him angrily.
"Sorry." The stranger with the mohawk makes his way over during this and glances at Chrissy apologetically. A grimace twists his face looking between them. These must be the drunk's friends… "Dude's super wasted and tired. Didn't mean nothin' by it."
"...Got it." Her voice is little more than a squeak, unable to say anything beyond that. She stays frozen to the spot as the two drag their buddy off, guiding him to a concrete parking stop in the opposite direction to sit down. Distantly, she notices the blonde running towards them.
'That was scary!'
This was a bad idea. Didn't even step a single foot inside the place and something already happened. What now? Slim fingers clutch the front of her shirt as she takes deep breaths, trying to calm down. It was just one drunk acting out. That's all. Will she let that ruin everything else? After already coming this far?
There are only three options for what comes next. One: run to a payphone to call Charlotte and apologize profusely. Two: head inside and carry on as planned. Three: stand here like an idiot and hope things don't get worse.
'It has to be two.'
Eddie should be in there. That's the safest bet. The other two options leave the cheer captain on her own and who knows for how long. If he's somewhere in that building, everything will be okay. Leaving now will also make all of this pointless. She came here for a reason. One drunk won't derail that.
If he can put up with the weirdo stuff going on with her, then she can certainly manage to slap on a brave face and walk right in there.
Clenching her teeth, Chrissy lets out a sharp exhale and marches toward the door. Sure, she might not be a tough guy or headbanger or a punk, but she's captain of the cheer team. That's its own can of worms. No one is going to frighten her away like some little mouse.
'I can cry about it later.'
Swinging open the door to the brick building, she heads inside. Stopping after a few paces, blue eyes roam around curiously, glossing over everything in sight. This place is pretty dark from the dim lighting. Kind of what she expected. The brick walls are covered head–to–toe with various things. Posters of bands and movies, framed pictures, beer signs, and event flyers. They might as well be wallpaper. There are glass cases and shelves up high with interesting objects. Records, signed pictures from who she assumes are musicians, memorabilia, and even a shiny black and blue guitar on a stand.
To the right is a wide-open room with a few pool tables and low lamps hanging from the ceiling. A group of people—dressed as she now expects—stand around them, shooting pool, drinking beers, and just relaxing. Straight ahead of her is a long bar with lots of stools, and a ridiculous amount of alcohol behind it. All across the back counter in multiple rows and on shelves. More bottles of hard liquor than she would ever want to count.
Along the wall are a couple of booths and in the center, three small tables with chairs. Beyond that is an open space that she can only assume is for those here to watch the bands play. Then finally, the stage. The platform is wider than expected and already has a bunch of equipment set up on it.
"Jesus…" The Hideout is nothing like the scene her imagination cooked up. It's not some teensy tiny bar with a few truckers and barely enough room for the band to play in the corner. This place isn't enormous, but definitely bigger than how it looks from the outside.
"Can I help you?" Chrissy jolts when a voice calls out to her. Looking back toward the bar, she sees the source. A tall woman in her late 30s behind the counter that's drying a glass. The cheerleader's gaze immediately goes to her crop top with the word 'Slayer' across it and the deep olive skin just below it. It's rude to stare, but she's just not used to seeing so many people dressed so differently.
"I, um…" Words are suddenly hard to figure out. Walking closer to the bar, she does a quick glance around just in case someone who can save her might be nearby, namely Eddie. This person looks scary, too. Fierce. Like she can bite a person's head off with one chomp. Now that she's closer, it's easier to see all the tattoos on the woman's strong arms. Her long dark hair was partially blocking them before.
"You need some directions? Or a phone? We got one in the back." She feels tiny again when the bartender's gaze trails up and down, scrutinizing her. It's no wonder. Everyone here dresses and looks a certain way, even if it has a unique spin on it. To them, it probably seems like a square got lost and wandered in here by accident.
"No, not that." Is it that obvious? Perhaps this place mostly deals with regulars and that makes her stick out even more. Her clothes and demeanor probably give her away. "I'm here to see Corroded Coffin. They're playing tonight, right?"
The woman's expression goes blank as she stares at her. "You're here to see… Corroded Coffin?" She arches a thin brow, seeming both confused and dubious of the claim.
"Mhm. Eddie invited me." Chrissy says a bit more shyly than intended. It seems weird just hearing it out loud.
"Eddie did?" The bartender tilts her chin down, appearing more surprised than anything. "Eddie Munson? Eddie the guitar player? That Eddie?"
"Yeah. That's the one." Is it really that strange? Enough for her to react that way? She likely knows him a lot better. After all, his band plays here every week. It wouldn't be a stretch to say the people who frequent this place have spent much more time around each other. And they all obviously have common interests. Everything in this bar screams it loud and clear.
"Really? Huh. That's interesting. So how do you know him?" Going back to drying glasses on the counter, her dark eyes flicker between the task and the cheer captain.
"We go to school together."
"And he invited you to see him play?" There's interest and skepticism in the way she's looking at her. Also a large dose of amusement. "You his girl or somethin'?"
The question really throws Chrissy off. "W–What?! No, I'm just a friend." She answers a little too dramatically. Warmth pools in her cheeks at the way the bartender's staring. It just feels like she's being picked apart by this person trying to come to their own conclusions and she's not doing herself any favors.
"Okay, then you might as well take a seat." A hand reaches over to smack the other side of the bar. It makes the bangles, leather cuff, and chain wrapped around her wrist clang against the hard surface. "They won't be on for another 15-20 minutes... Unless you want me to go get him?"
"No! That's—That's okay. I don't want to bother him before he goes on." The cheer captain ignores the smirk on the woman's face and picks a stool to sit on. At least they look comfortable. She hangs her purse on the back and climbs on, thankful they're not higher. The ones in Charlotte's basement at the bar area are ridiculously tall. She probably looks like a toddler crawling into a highchair just getting on it. These aren't nearly as bad.
'That sucks for really wasted people. The higher the stool, the further the fall if it gets too bad.'
A small white flat taps against the footrest as she bounces her leg, glancing around curiously. At the end of the bar are a few guys smoking and sipping beers. So does one of the booths There are more than five drunks here… With the bartender and group still by the pool tables, the number definitely goes well over twenty. Not including anyone hanging around outside. Was Eddie full of baloney, or are they just busier than usual? Still, that's probably pretty good for a Tuesday night in a small town like Hawkins.
"What kinda drink do you want?" The dark-haired woman leans down over the bar on her elbow, waiting expectantly. There's plenty to choose from whether or not a person wants something hard.
"Water?"
"No, I meant a drink drink. Something to loosen you up a bit. You look so uncomfortable that it's giving me anxiety in my own place. Not cool. Someone might think you're a newbie narc on the job."
Chrissy wants the floor to burst open and swallow her up. Is that the vibe she gives off? How embarrassing… Especially to hear it from the woman who's apparently the owner of this place. It really is strange how different things can suddenly be. At school, she's the head cheerleader and one of the popular kids. Here, her position is 'tiny dweeb in the wrong place'.
"I'm not twenty-one." Saying that alone is awkward, but she's not even eighteen yet. Couldn't they get in trouble for serving alcohol to minors? It's not a big deal if they don't care, but she doesn't want to cause any issues if there's a misunderstanding.
"Yeah, and? Unless you plan on snitching to the dogs, it really doesn't matter. Eddie wouldn't mess around with someone like that. So what do you want? A beer? Something fruity? What do you like? C'mon, work with me here."
Feeling the pressure and not wanting to look like a square, she sucks in her bottom lip, peering over at the wide array of bottles behind the woman. Perhaps it would help her loosen up a bit. But nothing too strong. It'd be humiliating if Eddie has to peel her off the bar and babysit when the whole point was for them to hang out. She came here to support him and his band. Not be a pain in the butt.
"To be honest, I don't drink. Can you make me something sweet, maybe? That's not strong?"
"Sure thing. I already have one in mind." The woman grabs a tall glass from under the counter that's wider at the top compared to the bottom. A few bottles are yanked from behind and placed next to it.
Chrissy quickly looks away, bouncing her foot even harder. Unbelievable… Not even her friends managed to pull this off, despite many useless attempts. Actually getting her to take on a full drink. It's not like she's never tasted alcohol, though. Just a sip here and there, usually from another person's cup. A beer at a party, a wine cooler at Charlotte's, and some red wine when her parents had a lot of friends over and no one was paying attention. Small amounts that were never enough to get her wasted. She always found them gross, but that was forever ago. Maybe things have changed since then.
She glances at everything but the person pouring her drink. There's plenty of stuff to stare at around here. Above the rows of bottles are a couple of lit-up beer signs, a UK flag, and a framed picture hanging up. It's really strange-looking. A mummy in a red military uniform baring his teeth, holding a tattered UK flag on a battlefield.
"Here you go." That was pretty quick. Her eyes shoot open when the drink is placed on the counter. It's a deep red at the bottom that fades into orange, with it being the brightest at the top. An orange slice is wedged on the rim and cherry floats on the surface along with some ice.
"That's called a 'Tequila Sunrise'. It's pretty popular with chicks, too. When the Rolling Stones came to the US on tour, it's said that Mick Jagger liked it so much that he ordered it at every place the band stopped at. He renamed it the 'cocaine and tequila sunrise tour'. What a card!" She laughs and leans back, putting her hands on her hips.
'Uh-oh.'
Moving forward, she hovers over the drink and takes a little whiff. The citrus scent is the first thing to whack her in the nose. Deciding to take the plunge, she grabs the straw and takes a big sip. It's sweet. Tart. The orange juice is really apparent, and it's not too strong, alcohol-wise. There's another flavor here that's hard to put a finger on.
"It's really good." It's not a lie, either. The cheer captain picks up the glass and holds onto it tightly, keeping it close. Her feet swing under the counter while she happily sips the orange concoction.
"Great! I hoped you would. I added some crème de cassis to the bottom layer. Balances it out, in my opinion. Otherwise, you get a mouth full of that sweet shit. Not a big fan of Grenadine. Sucks ass for the most part."
'I have no idea what she's talking about.'
She stares as the woman rambles on about spirits and mixing cocktails while drinking her own. The names and terms being thrown around might as well be in another language. Before long, the glass is half empty. Her stomach has a warm sensation spreading through it and she finally feels relaxed.
"Anyway, I'm Donna. As in Belladonna. As in the nightshade."
That's a weird way for someone to introduce themselves. "I'm Chrissy… As in Chrissy." Nothing special. Not short for 'Christine' or 'Christina' like many people often assume. Nope. Just Chrissy. Her parents basically gave her a nickname for a first name. But the answer at least earns her a chuckle from the older woman. That feels good.
"So, how long have you known Eddie?"
"Hmm… Since around middle school? We didn't start hanging out until recently, though." With the Tequila Sunrise already almost gone, her mind starts feeling a little fuzzy. Nothing she can't handle.
'Maybe I should've eaten something.'
"Gotcha. I'd say about the same. That little shit started sneaking in here around 14 or 15. Got tired of chasing him out, so I just let it go. Glad I did. He's a punk with a good heart."
"Yeah." Chrissy tears her gaze away, feeling weird at the way Donna's looking at her. It's intense. She shifts against the stool and takes another sip.
"He's kinda like the younger brother I never wanted, but got anyway." She leans closer to the bar, staring the cheerleader in the eyes. Putting her on the spot. "So I'd be pretty upset if anyone hurt him. Even if it's not intentional. You catch my drift?"
'What's going on? Did I miss something?'
"Stop being a biotch. She's just a kid. Besides, I doubt Eddie would appreciate that." A man behind the bar sits up with a magazine in his hand. It says Heavy Metal across the cover with a barely clothed model lying down in front of a set of drums. He frowns at Donna, running a hand through his long dirty blond hair. Like her, there are countless tattoos across both arms that are easy to see thanks to his black beater.
"Shut it, Dom. I'm just looking out for him."
"Dude's a grown-ass man. He doesn't need anyone's help."
Putting the glass down on the counter, Chrissy wrings her hands in her lap, feeling really uncomfortable despite being buzzed. "I just came here to be supportive… As a friend. It's obvious this is really important to him. I'm not trying to cause any problems."
No one says anything for a few moments. Looking up from her lap to the older woman, relief sets in seeing Donna's expression soften a bit. "Well, I guess there's nothing to worry about then. Gotta say... I can't wait to see his face when he realizes some cutie from school came to see him play. Brat's gonna have a stroke."
"Heh. Probably." The guy drops back down onto his seat behind the bar, going back to his magazine.
"You want another one?" Hoping to keep the good mood going, she nods and grabs her purse to pay. "Don't worry 'bout it. They're on the house." A twenty's slipped into the tip jar, anyway.
From the corner of her eye, Chrissy notices more people shuffling into the bar. Dom gets up and sighs, tossing the magazine onto the counter. "Bout maybe five minutes until your boy's on." He says, then slips behind Donna to go into the back. Her face flushes as another drink is set down in front of her.
'My boy?'
This side of the building gets darker as the stage lights go on that are changed to a red hue. It's really dark. She can barely make out what color her drink is. A few people come out from the back onto the stage, messing with the equipment and plugging cords in. Probably hooking their instruments to the amps and speakers. Not that she knows which is which. They're all the same to her.
Leaning forward on the stool, she blinks a few times trying to get her eyes to adjust to the lighting. Excitement bubbles up from recognizing the faces on the stage. It's them… Gareth sits down on a stool behind the drums, twirling the sticks between his fingers. Jeff on guitar and Grant on what she's assuming is bass since it appears to have fewer strings.
Then there's Eddie…
'Oh, wow.'
Grabbing a handful of loose strawberry blonde hair, she covers the deepening blush and grin spreading across her face with it. Eddie has on a sleeveless band shirt with 'Metallica' across it, leaving his arms fully exposed. Instead of those white sneakers, he has on boots and a pair of dark pants that are ripped at the knees. That wild, shaggy hair pokes out from under a black bandana with a white design on it. From here, she can't make out what it is.
'He's hot.'
Chrissy gasps at the thought, quickly grabbing the drink from the bar. Maybe that won't help… Still, she shouldn't be thinking anything like that. It just popped up.
The speaker makes a loud sound as it's turned on that makes her wince. The band members all get into position. Eddie shouts, tightening his grip on the red, oddly shaped guitar, and begins playing it. Gareth follows up with the drums, and music fills the entire building.
'So, this is live heavy metal?'
Her head is two seconds from exploding. It's louder and more chaotic than expected. The sound travels into her ears and straight to her brain, piercing it like a railroad spike. Yep. She's going to have a massive headache after this… Still, it's good. Not her cup of tea but that doesn't stop her from appreciating it.
She tries to focus on Eddie. His brow furrows with concentration as he strums intensely. And it's only the beginning of the first song. A curse slips out of her mouth when he starts headbanging, whipping his hair around as the rhythm gets faster. How that bandana doesn't slip off and go flying is a mystery.
'Holy crap!'
A boot steps on one of the boxes nearby—either a speaker or an amp—and he leans over, bending his knees and banging his head even harder. A feat that should probably be physically impossible. Her eyes widen, staring in disbelief and worry. That man is going to give himself whiplash or break his neck.
A hand taps her on the forearm. Tearing her gaze away from the scene on stage, she sees Donna with a small grin. "Don't worry! That's normal!" The woman cups her hands, trying to yell over the music. "Isn't he great?!"
Chrissy glances back at the band. She slowly nods without looking back, feeling her face heat up. Yes, they are great. And Eddie's fantastic. From the side, she notices Donna moving around and taking care of other customers. Good. Now there won't be anyone studying her.
To the cheer captain's surprise, Jeff walks up to the mic and starts singing. It's much deeper than expected. Eddie goes up to the other one to do backup. Their voices really complement each other, despite being so different. She didn't realize until now but his goes up a few octaves the louder he gets.
This is really something else. If playing D&D was Eddie in his element, then what is this called? His passion for music is so clear. This is what he genuinely wants to do. And it seems so natural. She can't look away, almost mesmerized by what's happening on stage.
Now that her eyes are used to the red lighting, they narrow in on the ringed fingers playing. A pick in one hand and the other holding onto the neck of the guitar, moving incredibly fast. It's really impressive. More so than when she watched him perform in middle school. He's at a totally different caliber compared to back then.
Despite knowing it's wrong, Chrissy's gaze travels up to his arms. Silently watching the lean muscles shift and flex with each movement as he plays. The corded veins in his forearms and wrists are more prominent than before. And she just might be a fan of them. Thanks to the sleeveless shirt he's wearing, the tattoo of a creature on his right tricep is completely visible. The cheerleader isn't sure what it is. A dragon or something? It's higher above the bats. She can always ask him about it later.
'Wow. They're amazing.'
The lights turned back to normal about ten minutes ago. Corroded Coffin finished up and started taking their equipment into the back. The entire thing must've lasted about an hour, including a fifteen-minute break in between.
It took a bit for her head to stop swimming. Whether that was from the loud live music, the drinks, or a mix of the two, she's not entirely sure. All Chrissy knows is that she's excited to finally see him. Hopefully, he doesn't just slip out of the back and go home. That would really suck.
'I think I'm definitely buzzed.'
Donna keeps trying to hand out drinks, but that's a firm no. After nursing the second one for most of the performance, a third one was slapped onto the counter. It'll have to go unfinished because there's no way she can get through it. Not without going overboard.
When the band comes out from the back, a breath catches in her throat. Eddie strides out with a bit of a strut. Shoulders back and chest out. He seems far more relaxed and confident here than at school. The man's a sweaty mess. His wavy dark hair is damp and curling, practically glued to his skin.
'Still hot. Maybe even more now.'
She swallows hard and takes another sip, hoping there's still a filter for her mouth since the one up above is busted. How to go about this slipped her mind, too. Just walk up to them? Call out to him? The group stops at the very end of the bar as Dom puts some beers out on the counter. The two guitar players take turns clasping hands with a guy sitting on a stool, patting each other on the back.
Just waiting seems to be the best option. They're talking to people. Even in this lighting, Eddie's skin is glistening from the sweat. He grabs the bottom of his shirt and pulls it up, using it to wipe his face and brow. Her eyes widened seeing the Hellfire leader's chest and abdomen, then the little happy trail below his belly button.
'Oh my God! I just saw his nipples!'
Chrissy splays a hand across her reddened face, still looking through the spaces between her fingers. This is wrong… The guy doesn't even know she's here watching him. He pulls the shirt back down and snatches up a beer. Leaning up against the counter, he takes a swig and chats with the others.
Grant is the first to finally notice her. Relaxing with his drink, he lazily gazes around until his eyes land on her down at the bar. They turn into saucers as he yells something incoherent. It's a jumbled mess that makes no sense. Slapping a large hand against the Metallica shirt, he quickly points at her, still in a state of shock. Eddie frowns and takes another swig, then glances over.
"My floor!" Donna shouts, throwing her dishrag at them when he sprays beer over it.
"C–Chrissy?!" His eyes are wider than Grant's when he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, shoving the cloth into Gareth's chest. No one in the band moves for a good minute as they stare at her, almost like they're malfunctioning. Shaking it off, he regains his composure and steps over the mess on the floor.
Trying not to lose her own, she takes a deep breath and watches him reach up, mindlessly fixing his hair. Beer still in hand, he slides up next to her against the bar. Going by body language alone, one would think the guitarist is cool, calm, and collected. But his pale face and reddened neck and ears tell a different story. A weird combo, that's for sure.
'Did I startle him that much?'
"Hey," Putting the drink on the counter, Eddie reaches over to awkwardly scratch his elbow. The difference in their height is more apparent now. Even on a stool, he still needs to look down at her. "Didn't know you were coming."
"The invite was still good, right? I wanted to surprise you. Seems like it worked." This isn't exactly the reaction she was hoping for. Was it not genuine? Maybe he assumed someone like her wouldn't actually come to a place like this, so it wouldn't matter anyway. That thought is enough to deflate a person.
"Ah-huh. Sure did." Hopping up on the next stool, he stares straight ahead, tapping his knuckles against the countertop. Just like when they were at the picnic table that first time. "Did you see it from the beginning?"
"Yep. I got here like twenty-ish minutes before you guys started."
"Really? So, uh… what did you think?" Eddie looks over at her curiously, chewing on the side of his mouth. Seeing his expression and the way he asked throws that previous idea right out the window. Nope. She was just being negative and took things the wrong way. Probably isn't the first time, either.
"I thought it was really cool." A blush spreads across Chrissy's cheeks saying that, only to deepen when his face lights up with a wide grin. Perhaps it's just the alcohol, but she feels really warm.
"Yeah? Sweet." Saying he seems pleased would be an understatement. That answer shifted the mood considerably. His eyes trail down to the glass in front of her. "I take it Donna insisted on making you something?"
"Oh, yeah. She said it's a—" The name slips out into the ether. What was it again? All that comes up is a blank. That makes her giggle, realizing she's a little tipsier than intended. Not plastered, but feeling good. There was plenty of time to sober up a bit during the show and the third drink is mostly untouched.
"A Tequila Sunrise, right? Did she bring up the Mick Jagger bit too?" He's right. She did mention that. The cheer captain laughs again and nods. "I didn't know you drank."
"I don't."
Eddie glances at both of their drinks. "You wanna try it?" Picking up his bottle, he holds it out to her with his brows raised. A tiny bit wouldn't hurt… Accepting the offer, she takes it from him and is surprised when her own is snatched off the counter. The guy doesn't even hesitate drinking right from her straw. When he looks back at her expectantly, she quickly takes a sip from his beer and makes a face.
"Don't like it, huh?" He chuckles, watching as she smacks her lips and hands it back. "That's okay. Yours is too sweet for me. Seems right for you, though."
It's interesting how people can react so differently to the same things. Her mind goes back to the party from two weeks ago. The one at Noah's house. When she went out back and sat on Jason's lap with a red cup. How he wanted to know what was in it, almost in an accusatory way. While everyone else is drinking and even smoking pot, she's expected to stay perfectly clean. Like a good girl… It was only soda, but the scrutiny was still there.
"Hey, Chrissy. Good to see you again." They turn on their stools to see Jeff standing there. A smile on his face and a beer in hand. Out of the group so far, he's a favorite. Always so nice and polite to her. The others slowly make their way over too, probably still surprised at the unexpected visit.
"Same. You guys were awesome! I didn't know you were such a great singer."
"Yeah, well you should see this guy when he actually puts his back into it. Or his lungs, more like." He slaps the club leader on the back. Eddie looks away, scratching his mouth.
"Nah, man. You're the real deal." It comes out quieter than usual. That only makes her more curious. Sure, she just heard him do backup, but what about on his own? And he wasn't putting his all into it?
'I want to hear him sing. It probably sounds really nice.'
A figure standing behind Jeff draws her attention. Grant. The only one not talking with anyone. Gareth is chit-chatting with Dom over the bar so that just leaves him. Taking another sip from his bottle, he just looks increasingly uncomfortable. That wasn't the case a few minutes ago. Is it because of her?
"Hey, no hard feelings about Friday night, right?" He seems stunned when realizing that she's addressing him. Please don't let that be the case. It was never her intention to make anyone upset during the session.
A moment goes by with him just staring, maybe thinking it over. "Uh… No. No hard feelings." Tilting his chin down, a little smirk appears. "But I am a little worried you might be just as ruthless as our DM. One cutthroat is bad enough."
"Right? I don't think she's quite there yet. That might change down the road, though. Eddie's a bad influence on people." Gareth chimes in as Dom sets more drinks down on the counter for them.
'Down the road?'
Does that mean they expect Chrissy to be around for a while? Long enough for Eddie to have an influence on her? They wouldn't say that about a person they dislike, right? The thought makes her feel warm inside and this time, it's definitely not the Tequila Sunrise.
"Okay, let's see it!" Someone yells from nearby, pushing past people toward the bar. A tall guy in a leather jacket with no shirt underneath and that long, light brown hair. He stumbles through and leans on Jeff and Gareth, with a lit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. "I heard some crazy shit. That Munson's gotta girl. Need to see it to believe it."
"Piss off, you drunk." Eddie waves him off and picks up his bottle, taking another swig. Treating the situation like he's seeing an annoying gnat that keeps flying around for the hundredth time. Nothing more. It's obvious they all know each other. From the way Jeff sighs, this isn't a first-time thing.
When the guy's eyes land on Chrissy, they get impossibly wide. "Oh, hell no! Not the hot demon girl."
"What did you just say?" The beer gets slammed down onto the counter and the Hellfire leader turns around, staring at him.
'Crap, crap, crap.'
"I said. Hot. Demon. Girl." Pushing his weight on the two band members, the drunk leans forward, clearly trying to antagonize Eddie. For what reason is anyone's guess. But no one looks happy.
"Woah! Hey, hey, hey, hey!" Dom hops over the counter and stands in the middle, putting his hands up. "No battle of the bands tonight, fellas. I already got my work cut out for me. Save it for the weekend or some shit. Tom!" Looking over to the person who was out front earlier wearing a vest, he motions for him to come over. "Can you get Jax outta here? He's acting up again."
"No, I'm not! You guys are just too fucking sensitive. No one knows how to chill here anymore." Narrowing his eyes on Eddie, the guy pushes off the other two and shuffles away.
'Thank goodness. I thought there was going to be a fight. That scared me.'
"Relax, man." Sighing, Dom turns toward the guitarist and crosses his arms. "Ya know he's having a rough time."
"I am relaxed. That dumbass was starting shit, not me."
Jeff clicks his tongue, annoyed with the entire thing. "I get he's having a hard time and all, but that doesn't mean he should drink himself into a hole and take it out on everyone else. The guy's been itching for a fight for the last few weeks. It's a pain."
The older man runs a hand through his dirty blond hair. If they're all regulars here, it must be rough trying to sort out any conflicts between them. "Damn. I'm gonna have to get Donna to talk with him again. He's just actin' like a fool lately. Don't know what's gotten into him."
"Sorry about that." Chrissy flinches when a voice whispers in her ear. A hand presses against her back, rubbing circles over it, and she finally lets out a relieved breath. "You wanna go? Maybe get something to munch on at the diner down the street?" Seeing the hopeful look on his face, her head nods before even thinking about it.
"Hey, man. What about our ride? We still gotta put all the equipment in the van and everything. It's already after nine." Gareth raises a brow, pointing toward the watch on his wrist. It is pretty late and they all have school tomorrow.
"Don't worry about it. I'll help with that and take you guys home." Crawling back over the counter, Dom grabs a few empty bottles to toss out. "Eddie, just grab your shit and beat it."
"Sure thing."
By the time the van pulls out of the parking lot, it's pushing towards ten. The diner they're going to is literally down the street. About a five-minute drive down Prospect. It's open all hours of the day and night. Perfect spot for people out late and truckers looking for somewhere to stop on their routes.
"So, what was that about?" Eddie asks, glancing over at her. "The whole Jax thing… You know him or something?"
"No. He just came up to me in the parking lot when I got there and was a little annoying." Part of her hoped he wouldn't ask, but it was probably inevitable. There's something about that guy that is really off-putting and not just his rude behavior.
"What he do?"
"Just being a creep, I guess you can say." That puts a frown on his face. They both frequent The Hideout, so he'd have a better idea about what that person's like. It's not clear why, but there's tension between the two. Dom mentioned something about a battle of the bands. Perhaps that's why they don't care for each other? Is it a competition thing? "I don't think he liked the idea of getting pepper sprayed, though."
"Hah! Serves that jerk right."
The music on low fills the van as they both leave it at that. Honestly, Chrissy doesn't want to think about that person anymore. There's no point in letting him ruin the night. Still, she can see Eddie's eyes shifting back and forth straight ahead. From hanging out together, that seems to mean he's mulling over something.
"What song is this?" Maybe that'll put him in a better mood. It's a lot more mellow than what's usually playing when they drive around.
"Hmm? Oh, uh… 'Comfortably Numb' by Pink Floyd. Figured after you spent the night listening to the heavier stuff, I'd play something a little lighter. You like it?" That worked. His shoulders relax a bit and he leans back against the driver's seat. Whatever was on his mind must've been agitating him.
"Yeah, it's okay."
"You can borrow it if you want. But you break it, you buy it." Seeing that goofy grin makes her feel a hundred times better. The one he has when joking around.
Chrissy thinks about it for a moment. This isn't really her flavor of music. Their tastes are very different. It's not bad though. Maybe they can meet somewhere in the middle from time to time? Borrowing it would give her an excuse to see him again, too.
'I don't really need one, do I? This worked out okay.'
"Thanks, but I don't have anything to play it on." That almost slipped her mind. There's no point in borrowing a tape if there's nothing to put it in.
"Huh? You don't have a tape player?" Eddie's brows furrow when she shakes her head. It's as if the thought alone is mind-boggling. For someone so passionate about music, it probably is. "Stereo? Or a jambox? Nothing?"
"We have a stereo system. It's behind a glass door and stays locked. My parents only used it when they had get-togethers. And I had a walkman, but it's… broke." There's no way she'll tell him how it got that way. It doesn't really matter.
"That's lame as hell."
The van makes a sharp turn right into the diner parking lot. They both hop out and head in, with Eddie holding the door open for her.
To be honest, Chrissy is pretty anxious about it. Diners like this usually give out large portions on big plates. If she orders a meal, part of her will feel obligated to finish it. There's no way Eddie won't notice how much she eats. Maybe half of one will be okay? And take the rest to-go? If she tosses it, will he think it's wasteful?
'Darn it…'
Standing near the entrance, the cheer captain bites on her thumbnail, trying to calm her nerves. An older woman walks over and says something, but it goes in one ear and out the other. What she does notice is the strange look the server is giving them.
'What's the problem?'
Did he say something off-color while she wasn't paying attention? Or because they're young and how late it is on a weekday? It's best to ignore it… The woman shows them to a booth against the wall and drops the menus on the surface before scurrying off.
There's no way he didn't notice that too, but it doesn't show on his face. Nope. The guy's relaxed and in a pleasant mood now. He yanks off his leather jacket and tosses it in the banquette's corner with little care. Sliding into the one across from him, she fingers the menu to avoid staring. Again. At his bare arms and shoulders like some kind of creep.
'Food… Food. Focus on food. What can I get that's not too heavy? Wait! How is this going to work? Is he paying? Or do I pay for what I get? Should we ask for separate checks? I have money on me… Would it bother him if I paid for everything? Is that insulting? Or nice? I really don't mind.'
"Shit." Chrissy glances up at him, arching a brow. "This probably wasn't such a great idea." He groans and rubs his forehead with the heel of his palm, smacking it a few times.
"What? Why?" Is it about money? If that's the case, it wouldn't bother her to pay for it. After playing for all that time and working up a sweat, he must be hungry.
Eddie gives her a long look, then sighs. "Nothing… Hey, so how about we just get some little crap to share?"
"Um, sure." Pushing the menu off to the side, she can't help feeling confused. Is he not that hungry? It's doubtful something small will fill him up. Would now be a good time to voice her thoughts about the bill? Maybe if he knows it's taken care of, he'll eat to his heart's content. Or get upset.
'What should I do?'
"You want anything specific?" She shakes her head at his question and the server comes back over with a pen and pad. There are only a few people in the place, so the wait's short.
When the woman asks if they're ready, he quickly jumps into what seems more like a grocery list of an order. Fries with cheese on the side, mozzarella sticks, mild wings with celery sticks and blue cheese, potato skins, jalapeño bites, chicken poppers, breadsticks… Then gets a large root beer float to top it off and closes the menu.
"Are you ordering a meal, too?" The server still has that odd expression as her eyes flicker between them.
"That is the meal." He says, arms crossing over his chest. There's something uncomfortable going on that she's having a hard time putting a finger on. It's the tone. Just sounds off. Like there's a little bite to it. Looking over at her, his expression softens. "What do you want to drink?"
"Mmm… I guess I'll have a small strawberry shake." Chrissy purses her lip, playing with a lock of hair hanging down. It wouldn't hurt to splurge a little, right? She's still feeling floaty from those Tequila Sunrises at the bar.
"Of course you would." Eddie grins and hands the menus off to the server. When the woman walks off, he tilts his head to the side, staring at the cheer captain. "Did you eat anything before coming?" Seeing the guilty expression across the table, a ringed finger comes up and wags at her as he tuts. "Gotta eat before drinking. That's just asking for trouble. It's one of the golden rules of the Munson doctrine."
"Munson doctrine?" She giggles, shaking her head. "What else is in it? And I wasn't planning on drinking, either. It just kind of happened."
"You'll have to wait to find out. Can't lay all my cards out on the table at once. Man's gotta have some mystery." His hands reach up to adjust his bandana, raking his fingers through the finally dry curly hair sticking out from beneath it. "But yeah, Donna's pushy sometimes. I'd bet my bottom dollar that's what it is. She loves making drinks, too. Not a great combo, depending on who's dealing with her."
"She's a little scary," Chrissy says quietly, almost like she's worried the bar owner might hear them and pop out of the woodwork to scold her.
"Pshh. A little? I couldn't tell you how many times she's threatened to break my legs."
That earns him a laugh, only to be cut off when the server comes with their drinks. A few moments later, she's walking across the diner with a large tray full of plates and baskets. They take up most of the table, leaving little room for much else.
'That's a lot of food. I just need to take it easy. No skipping meals and no bingeing. Find a happy medium.'
"You can, uh, just take what you want. No pressure." He looks her in the eye and nods, then reaches over to pile food onto his plate.
This is really confusing to her. At first, she assumed he was going with appetizers because they were cheaper. With each extra order, it became obvious that wasn't the idea. Individually, they're cheaper. All of this added up together? Two dinners would cost less. Maybe he just wanted a wide variety?
'I'm probably just overthinking it.'
"Here, try this. It's really good." Eddie sits up and leans over the table with a chicken popper between his fingers. She stares at him blankly, taking a moment to realize what he's trying to do. No way… Reaching out to grab it herself, the hand swerves out of the way and a wide smile spreads across his face. "Nuh-uh."
'You've got to be kidding me!'
Chrissy turns beet red as she looks away, almost in disbelief. Is this guy serious? He wants to feed her? It's a little embarrassing and makes her feel strange. Despite thinking that, she turns back and opens up, letting him plop the little piece of crispy chicken on her tongue.
"Bangin', right?" The corner of his lips curl up into a playful expression. He's thoroughly enjoying this. Part of her wants to throw a fry at him for it.
Still, she covers her mouth and nods, not knowing what to think. Just what possessed him to want to do that? And her to go along with it? Whatever… It isn't like she's upset or anything. Just all mixed up inside. Perhaps it'll make more sense when the alcohol is completely out of her system.
"I never asked what you were planning after graduation."
Yeah, there's the obvious answer. But it's not like that just happens right away. Sometimes it takes many years to get to that level. Plenty don't make it at all. He will. One way or another. A feeling in her gut just says so.
Chrissy takes a deep breath and stares up at the night sky, gazing at all the blinking stars laid out across it. Slim fingers pull out a few blades of grass. Thankfully, it's not all dead here and can act as a cushion between her body and the ground. It's not like either of them would've thought to bring a blanket or something.
'This is really nice.'
God knows how late it is. Probably after midnight, but neither seems to care. After finishing up at the diner, it was clear to both they weren't in a rush to head home. Even if there's school in the morning. Coming to the lake was his idea, and she was perfectly okay with that. There's no one waiting for her at the house, anyway.
"Oh, you know… Just become a famous guitarist." Eddie snorts, his smile getting wider. Watching him talk of things he's passionate about is a welcome reprieve. It feels so genuine compared to what she's been exposed to over the years. "For now, we'll keep playing at The Hideout. It takes money to get anything done. Sucks, but it's true. Equipment, upkeep on that, gas, transportation, self-advertising, everything. And recording an album? Phew. Even trying to go on a local tour will be expensive. No amount of whoring ourselves out will take care of that... Unless it got us a record deal with a company who'd cover the costs."
"Wow. Sounds like a lot to work out."
"Yeah, but it'll be worth it. We have what it takes. I can feel it in my bones. It's my calling. Can't imagine doing anything else." Perhaps some people were just born to do certain things. She can't help wondering what it's like to have such conviction, let alone for a particular path in life. "If worse comes to worst… I'll get a job at my uncle's plant to save up enough to get started. Well, that and selling shit. I mean, Hawkins would be lost without me. Everyone will be a whole lot pissier than they already are."
"The town definitely wouldn't be the same if you were gone." Thinking about that gives her more mixed feelings. Still, it's great to have a dream to chase. Many people don't have that or lack the courage to try. Like her.
"What would they do with themselves if the resident freak escaped?" He lets out a sharp exhale, raising a hand to twist one of the rings on his fingers. "They'll have to find a new boogeyman to get paranoid about. Besides, I doubt anyone here would really miss me."
"I would," Chrissy says quietly. She can feel those dark eyes staring at her but doesn't move, just keeps looking up at the sky. A heavy sigh spills out from a foot away and he sits up, flipping open the lid to his pail beside him on the grass. From the sound of it, Eddie's getting out the joint that was rolled in the van.
"You want some?" A hand shoots out in front of her view, holding it out for the cheer captain to take. Already lit and ready to go. Sure, why not? This will be the third time they smoked together. Taking a quick hit, it gets passed back to him.
A chilly breeze goes by and she shivers, letting the smoke slip out from between her lips in messy wisps. No pretty stream tonight. How stupid was it to not at least bring a hoodie or something? Even if it was nice out earlier, it's common sense that the night would be colder.
"Here." Eddie tugs the leather jacket down his arms and tosses it on her. Like a blanket. Chrissy's lips move to protest, but a low, jumbled mess comes out as the warmth seeps through her. It's clear any objections will be ignored. He flops onto his back against the grass, putting a bare arm behind his head. The other's busy twisting the joint between its fingers.
"Aren't you going to be cold like that?" That shirt doesn't even have sleeves. And his shoulders aren't completely covered, either. He's going to freeze his butt off just to be nice because she's a dumdum that forgot to bring extra layers. It's not fair to him.
"Me? Nah. This is nothing. At worst, it's hard nipple weather."
"That's one way to put it." Oh, no. Now her face is heating up from thinking about what happened at The Hideout—seeing his nipples and sweaty chest. That was too much. "If you get cold, just take it back."
"Please, Chrissy… Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a complete asshole. I'll just grab something out of the van if that happens." He sounds a little offended. It wasn't intentional. She just doesn't want someone else being cold when it can be avoided.
Still, it's very kind of him. His leather jacket is really warm… This does the job well. It shields everything above the middle of her thighs from the cold air. Small hands grab onto the inside of the jacket and pull it closer, letting it envelop her. Along with his scent. Compared to the Hellfire Club shirt, this is bathed in it.
'Ah, I don't want to give it back anymore!'
The white flats below tap against each other as Chrissy wiggles beneath it, soaking up the remaining heat he left behind. This is the second time he pushed this onto her. The first was also with his denim vest in the stairwell, but that's MIA at the moment. No one's ever offered to do that, let alone insist. Not even Jason… Then again, his varsity jacket is one of his most prized possessions.
"You got plans for this weekend, shortcake?"
"What did you call me?!" There was no mistaking it. And the cocky grin on his face only confirms it.
"You seemed more interested in that thing than what I was saying, so I needed something to grab your attention." Stretching her leg out, a small flat taps against the side of his thigh in annoyance. That only serves to make him laugh at the half-hearted attempt at retribution. "Guess it worked."
"You're a punk! And actually, I do have plans." That cuts his laughter short. He rolls over on his side to face her and takes a long hit from the joint. If she's not wrong, it looked like a hint of disappointment flashed on his face before quickly getting buried away. "My birthday's Saturday…"
"Oh?" While that piqued his interest, it appears to bum her out. Chrissy sighs and pulls her legs in as far under the jacket as it'll allow. "You don't look too thrilled about that."
Should she talk about it? There's a good chance it'll just irritate him. That's almost a given when Jason's brought up, understandably. It would be just as bad, if not worse, the other way around. Perhaps this is something she should keep to herself. He might also be disappointed that they could pressure her into doing this. The whole 'do your own thing and screw others' mentality. But if there's someone who listens carefully, it's him.
"Well, I… The, um, Carvers want to throw me a party." So far, he's just observing her. No immediate reaction yet. That's a good sign. "It's just going to be a lot of small talk and handshaking with people who barely know me. The whole song and dance just gets exhausting after a while. I don't know… I'm the one who said yes, though."
Eddie's quiet for a moment, his eyes focusing on the smoke pouring out from between his lips. "I'd say tell them to piss off, but 'it's not that easy' yet, am I right?" His voice is low, not carrying the usual tone it has when they talk about her giving in to others' whims. He already knows she's not okay with this. However, it's a work in progress. Going from people–pleasing to doing as she pleases won't happen overnight.
"Yeah, Jason wasn't too happy about Valentine's Day, so I feel kind of obligated." That brings out an exaggerated eye roll and scowl. Maybe that part could've been left out.
"What would you want to do? I mean, if you weren't going?"
"Hmm…" That's a good question. It was easier to answer as a kid and younger teenager. But for her eighteenth birthday? Most of the people the cheer captain knows just go wild. That isn't really what she has in mind. "Not sure. I never really did what I wanted on my birthday. It was always turned into some little social event for my parents, their friends, and their kids."
"How lame."
"I know," Chrissy says softly, thinking back on the parties they had before. He leans over to pass the joint, only to stall at the last moment. She sucks in a sharp breath when his fingers reach further, the tips gently caressing the skin of her palm. It tickles, yet is also soothing at the same time. For a moment, she thought he might actually lace them together, but that didn't happen. He clears his throat and pulls back, continuing on as per usual.
"So, what does the nobility bestow upon Your Highness on your special day? A bunch of pricey shit, right?"
'Does he mean presents?'
"Ah… Yeah." She feels a little embarrassed. These are just first-world problems, after all. It probably seems so silly to him. "I mean, complaining seems ungrateful, but I'd rather people didn't waste a bunch of money getting me things I don't want or need. No one ever asks."
"You don't want the expensive crap?"
"Not really, to be honest. If I want that stuff, I can get it for myself. These parties end up turning into a kind of game of who can get the most impressive gift. Not just for me, either. Charlotte, Natalie, Jason, Chance, Patrick… Anyone whose parents run in similar circles."
"So it is a dick–measuring contest." He says with certainty, rubbing a long finger across his chin. It doesn't seem to surprise him in the least. Might've just confirmed something.
"Basically. I'd rather get small things that I can actually enjoy. Like books, tapes, or I don't know… Stuff that has some thought put into it."
"What a little nerd." His eyes light up as she grabs a handful of grass and tosses it at him. Hopefully, some blades get stuck in that wild hair.
The section is dead quiet at this time of night. No one's around and most of the large houses are dark, except for little lawn lamps. Most folks are probably knocked out this late. Good. Then there's no reason for him not to do what he's been wanting to. Screw the neighbors.
Dark eyes land on the petite woman walking in front of him, staring at the leather jacket wrapped around her. Chrissy's still wearing it. She looks so small and cute in that old thing. Yep… Definitely worth the chill.
Striding up the path to her house, they stop on the porch. The front light isn't on this time. Without the streetlights, it'd be a lot harder to see. Good thing his eyes are excellent.
"Thanks for the food and everything." The cheer captain blushes, fiddling with the keys in her hands and looking down at the white flats she has on. Acting bashful. It's adorable. Might just make him a lost cause.
"You don't need to thank me for every little thing." Eddie clicks his tongue and reaches over, doing something that surprises them both. He pinches her cheeks. Not hard or anything, but enough to get the point across and move her head from side to side. They're soft and rosy, getting warmer by the second.
"Ah!" she swats at his hand, completely taken aback. He can't help laughing at the reaction. "Like I said, you're a punk." A small hand slaps his chest lightly, though she doesn't seem mad in the least. If anything, it's the total opposite.
"Oh, I almost forgot…" Chrissy slips off the jacket and gently hands it back like it's something precious that could get broken if not handled carefully. It's not. If it gets messed up, he can just fix it. That's happened countless times now. "I, um, guess I'll see you at school."
"Yeah." He exhales sharply from his nose. Of course they will, though neither will publicly acknowledge the other. Yet. It hasn't been that long. No point in turning her little world upside down right now. Unless she wants to, that is.
They stare at each other for a few moments in silence. She sucks in her lips, then spins on her heel, turning away. Well, that's that. Not that he was expecting anything more, like a hug or a goodnight kiss. Though he wouldn't turn them down either.
"Goodnight, Eddie." Standing in the entryway with the door wide open, Chrissy smiles sweetly, giving him a little wave. Mindlessly returning the sentiment, he stands at the end of the wide porch until it's closed and locked before heading back down the front path.
'What the hell.'
When he hops in the van, the Hellfire leader yanks off his bandana and runs a hand through his hair. It might just be the pot, but everything feels all scrambled right now. Especially inside. His stomach is in a bunch of knots.
"Fuck. Fuck. Shit." Kneading his temples with the heels of his palms, there's just too much to sort through. It's probably a big ol' waste of time. Everything points in the same direction. What do folks say? All roads lead to Rome?
The van starts up, and he peels out of the driveway. It's crazy to think that the unimaginable happened. Chrissy Cunningham went to The Hideout. Granted, he did invite her and hoped she'd eventually come. What a surprise.
'Chrissy did that just to see me.'
But the chick's ballsier than he originally thought. Finding out how she managed to get there made him want to give her a major noogie. Walking around that area late at night with all those drunks skulking the streets… Fucking wild. If something would've gone horribly wrong, he'd feel so damn guilty. Either she has tits of steel or is naïve about that kind of stuff. He's leaning somewhere in the middle.
'If I knew, I could've just taken her with me. That'd ruin the surprise factor she was lookin' for. Well, can't change it now.'
Eddie takes the long way back to Forest Hills. A nice drive, smoke, and album is a good cocktail to relieve tension. There are also fewer cops around, so no one can make him slow down. He already knows where the ones who lurk around at night like to hang.
Taking a sharp turn, he cruises down a dark road with a place in mind. Just something to check and confirm. The streetlights are far and few down this way. Seeing the old abandoned building, the van slows down and he narrows his eyes at the parking lot. A full house tonight.
A little pot-smoking birdie gave him an unwanted, unintentional, yet possibly useful tip when it was singing earlier. If this wasn't on the way home anyway, he probably wouldn't have bothered. But it might come in handy later.
'Knew it.'