"I guess winter break starts now." I mumbled. There was no way I was going back to school after that episode.
Eddie and I were seated in his van, outside of my house, a couple houses down. The adrenaline high was wearing down, and now I was cradling my knees to my chest. His hand covered his mouth, elbow propped onto his dash, chin in his palm. He seemed to also be taking in what he'd done- where he'd ended up. We were both out of our element. Just tomorrow, the whole school would be abuzz with how I, Lana Harrington, projected prom queen, Hawkins princess- had been rescued by dangerous bad boy, local metalhead, freak, Eddie Munson. The only answer I could truthfully conjure up, I didn't like. Eddie and I were becoming acquainted- we were getting closer to knowing each other.
Hell, knowing what people said about Eddie had started to bother me.
We knew each other, now. So what was our projected path? Would I ditch him? Would he ditch me? Would we try to be unlikely friends, ruin each other's social circles? Would we stay cautiously acquainted allies?
I didn't know. But I didn't see him how I used to- the freak, dangerous bad boy part, at least. He was animated, passionate, funny- calculatory. He was actually a pretty good guy- as good as guys got, at least.
"You wanna stay for dinner?" I asked carefully, trying to seem nonchalant.
He broke from his thoughts, meeting my gaze with his big, curious brown eyes. I returned the look evenly.
"Harrington, did you just invite me on a date?" He teased.
I rolled my eyes. "Just call me Lana, Munson."
He did that thing where he took in my full figure, slow, as if scanning me for falsification. Then, he cracked a boyish smile. Cheeky guy. "Okay, Lana."
Instantly my cheeks felt fiery. I cleared my throat. "So anyway- you rescued me. We have food. Steve cooks tonight but we could get a jump on it-"
"Steve'll be home?" He asked skeptically, fiddling with his rings.
"You not a fan of Steve?" I retorted quickly, maybe a tad too defensive.
His eyes rolled to the ceiling thoughtfully, and he trailed a finger across a mysterious stain. I scrunched my nose up. "I dunno, man- he's not been the biggest fan of me,"
"Well," I hummed lamely, "I guess that's fair. He's kind of an ass sometimes- to other people. But he's a good guy. Like- really, though. If he hadn't basically raised me, I wouldn't be what I am today.
Eddie snorted, and I gave him a sharp stare. He froze up, hands snapping up in surrender. I wanted to snip at him- but I knew I hadn't been the kindest to him, either. I sighed instead.
"No, like, really, though. My parents aren't ever around, so it's just me and Steve, making dinner, taking turns driving, rationing allowance- to survive. Since forever, really. What we know, we learned from each other."
He was watching me seriously, now, taking in every bit of information intently.
I shook my head. "Anyways, Steve's a good guy. I know how to drive because of him- even though he fought me the whole time- and I don't know how many guys he's beat up for me-"
"Well," Eddie interrupted rigidly, "that part's not very comforting,"
"Why, you gonna give him a reason to beat you up?" I retorted quickly, squinting my eyes at him. I couldn't help the way my words tumbled out next. "Gonna try and get into my pants too, Munson?"
He tucked his bottom lip in between his teeth thoughtfully, then released it with a shake of his head. "Nah."
The intense bubble hadn't popped, though. I remained steadily in place.
He leaned forward tentatively, before poking my forehead with his pointer finger. "Just your head."
He'd exited the van right after that, but I found myself chilling, up and down my body. No one had ever said something like that to me. I clumsily followed after him, as he took in the sight of my house fully. I furrowed my brows at him as he wove around the yard, then he stopped, pointing at one window.
"That's your room, isn't it?" He called.
"I-" I rustled around for my keys in my backpack, distracted. "You don't need to know the answer to that, Munson."
"Ah, so it is," He grinned, draping his arms lazily over his head.
"Yeah, it is, so what?" I huffed, turning the key in the lock and shoving the door open with my shoulder.
"So, cool." He merely grinned.
He was so hard to read. Sometimes he came off completely transparent, and other times he was playing a game of chess in his head that only he knew the rules of. I propped the door open for him, having to stand in the doorway with the way I was still awkwardly struggling with my backpack in the other hand. The side of his form brushed up against mine as he pushed into the entrance. I shook my head, slightly breathless. I closed and locked the door, dropping my backpack off on the floor. Eddie was already making himself at home, wandering around and taking every precisely placed piece of décor in.
"Oi, shoes off," I ordered, giving him a strict glare.
In the kitchen Steve and I had devised a meal plan, several items already scratched off. Tonight it seemed was Artichoke Chicken Pasta. I propped the fridge open and collected a bottle, weaving around the island to where Eddie was examining our family photos. I suddenly felt a vulnerability I hadn't before- I was on the other side of all those parties I attended, I was the host now. My secrets were pretty layered, but not invisible. I only hoped he wasn't as good an investigator as I was. I tapped his shoulder with the cold glass, and he flipped in place quick enough for me to get a face full of hair. I had closed my eyes in time, but not my mouth. I sputtered dryly.
"Harrington-" He grinned, then corrected himself, "Lana- you understand the key to my heart."
"Oh, yeah? Give it back, then, I didn't mean to-" I tease, reaching to snag the bottle from his grip.
But he'd already danced from my reach as he chugged, like a pest buzzing in my kitchen. I realize I've basically taken on the task of babysitting this evening- or at least, it's what it feels like. He easily meandered to take in the dinner plan, and he chuckled.
"Artichoke?" He raised an eyebrow. "Kinky."
"Oh, my god," I groaned, yanking the paper away. "You're actually driving me crazy."
"Do you guys actually eat like this?" He asked, humor falling away. "Like, every night?"
I hesitated, shrugged. "We try to."
He blew air out, cheeks puffing up. "You rich people are wild, man."
"We're not rich," I scoffed.
"Yeah?" He hummed, fixing me with an intense stare. "Last meal I had with my Uncle was chicken nuggets- microwaved chicken nuggets."
"I-" I opened my mouth then closed it again sourly. "I bet that was yummy."
He raised his brows exaggeratedly. "Sure, and so is the sleep I get for dinner some nights."
"What do you want from me?" I snapped, palms dropping onto the counter. One minute he was dancing around, the next he'd made the entire room feel like you were wading in jello. He was a master of controlling the room.
There's an icy, sharp tone to his voice now I've never heard before- not even at lunch. "Do you even listen to what anyone says, man?"
I blink rapidly, trying to cover for my own narcissistic tendencies I was well aware of. "I try to-"
"No, dude, just listen," He laughed, but it wasn't one full of much humor. "I think you're cool."
The mixed signals I was getting were starting to make my head hurt. I took a seat at the dining room table, elbows propped onto my knees.
"I think you're actually pretty cool. You have this whole vigilante, anti-hero thing going- you're self aware enough that you know you can be a bitch, but you're chill enough to play god on your terms, not give into the jock and party kids' bullshit." He mused, leaning over the counter to match my line of sight, about 5 five away, but eyes piercing. "But you're not self aware enough to recognize just how good you've got it. And you don't always make the right choices, where playing god's concerned. I mean, look at me."
I try to be angry- but he's doing to me what I've done to so many others. He's reading me like a book- out in the open- and I feel my heart dip downwards at the last sentence. I really had screwed him over.
"I'm thankful to you, somewhat. In a time where my dad was out doing god knows what and I was starting to veer off onto my own path, you shamed the fuck out of me for being a dickhead." He admitted, taking a sip of his beer. My eyebrows rose in surprise, much like during any conversation we seemed to have. "But then the years went by, and I tried to show you and everyone else I was just making my way- just going through growing pains- but it didn't matter. I was already the freak. And honestly, that's fine. Because who I am now- I'm a rockstar, I'm gearing up for the show, baby. But you- you'll never see me any different, huh?"
My thoughts rushed each other, trying to compete for the front position. It was hard to decide how to respond to that. I stood, moving to the fridge. I plucked out some ingredients.
"I mean," I began slowly, piling some things into my arms. "You saved me today. And you have pretty good music suggestions."
"Yeah, yeah," He agreed, "But I'm still the freak, right?"
Up to this point in my life, I'd pretty much decided that was the case. But now, these past couple of days- no, he was wrong.
"Actually," I furrowed my brow, "You don't know me like you think you do either."
He blinked quickly, taking up a strand of hair and smoothing it over his mouth as he mulled over what I was telling him.
"I've gone through a lot of... strange things, lately. You- you're kind of a bright patch in it all." I admitted, sniffing a vegetable for signs of rot, and refusing to look over at him. "I wish I never called you that- I wish I didn't say anything about a lot of people, now that I think about it. I didn't realize I had so much sway over everything."
"Your brother basically runs the school." Eddie reminded.
"Yeah." I mumble, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear bashfully. "I get that now. But I- uh- I can't change the stuff I said. I guess I can change what I do- now."
"And use your powers for good?" Eddie raised his eyebrows, impressed and doubtful.
I fixed him with a glare- but giving into looking at him gave me a visceral response I'd never felt before. It's like my throat grew a lump, my scalp tingled over, my knees buckled. My chest pattered, and my brows stitched together. I swallowed hard.
"Whatever." I agreed. I closed my eyes, willing myself to get ahold of myself. "And for the record, I don't dislike you, Munson. Not at all. Not anymore. You're kinda cool- when you're not being a nosy nit that tracks mud all over my house."
I swear I can detect a trace of pink dusting his cheeks, and he finally cracks a smirk, and I know we're done with the serious topic. "Eddie."
"Huh?" I respond idly, dropping all the ingredients down onto the island next to where he'd been leaning.
"Just call me Eddie, Lana." He shrugged.
It was still weird, seeing him clad in his gear, the frizz of his curls blowing gently in the AC. Leaning against my kitchen counter. But I decided; unlikely friends, we would be. Going by intuition solely, I felt like he was someone I needed right now. So I think I'd have to get used to this. And I wanted to start fresh. Even though I knew that was impossible.
I straightened up in place, offering my hand as if this were the first time we'd ever met. "Hey, Eddie."
He nodded approvingly, smile forcing it's way through the dip his mood had taken. "Good to know you, Lana."
The front door dragged along the wooden floor, then slammed shut. I turned to eye it, dropping Eddie's hand.
"Lana? What the hell happened?" Steve called out from the front, concern overwhelming his tone. "How'd you get back? And I thought we took care of that creep, Hargrove-"
He lazily wound around the corner, into the kitchen, and froze on the spot at the two of us now leaning against the kitchen island tensely.
"What the fuck?" He demanded, throwing his hands up into the air.