The streetlights overhead streaked through the front window, illuminating a trail of dust otherwise unnoticeable to the naked eye. But the back of the van was dark, secluded- cushioned. I was sprawled onto his lap, and he was leaning over me, hair almost close enough to tickle my cheeks. We'd been this way for a while, just looking at one another. Seeing, thinking. It was like I was memorizing every single line in his face, every pore.
When he finally started to shift down, it was so slow I wasn't completely sure he was actually moving. But sure enough, a moment later, he was barely an inch away. His lips hovered over my own, and I felt them brush against mine as they curled into a seductive grin.
"You want it?" He hummed.
I nodded ever so slightly.
"You're gonna have to ask." He insisted, voice a raspy whisper.
"Kiss me." I demanded. My voice wouldn't have been audible to anyone any farther away. It was just him and I, in our little bubble, here together.
"Shit," He breathed, and he pulled me in close, our lips clashing passionately. He kissed hot, deep. It wasn't rushed, like any of the losers I'd tried dating before. He was something new, altogether. I felt my heart hammer in my chest.
No, actually, that was some kind of knocking.
"It's two o'clock in the afternoon!" Steve bitches, repetitively pounding on my door.
I scramble up from my puffy, comfy haven in a rush, having to clear hair from my eyes. I was in bed, running hot, having to catch my breath after having a completely insane dream. I suppose that's what happened when you slept an ungodly amount of time. I shivered, shaking my head. If anyone knew- no one would ever know. I covered my eyes, releasing a shaky giggle. God, was I changing.
"This is your last wake up call, Lana. Next time, I'm busting through the door." Steve chastised, and I can imagine his hands pressed sassily to his hips. "And tell that freak to quit calling the phone off the damn hook. I told him you were asleep, but he keeps ringing, and ringing-"
I glance over to my phone, off the ringer, where I'd left it the night before on accident. At some point I must have fallen asleep- it was tough to say. Eddie had called to talk about nothing in particular, but after I gave a small amount of interest in his newest "campaign" for some game he played called "D and D", there was no stopping his onslaught. I didn't hate listening to him, though apparently I'd passed out from exhaustion of having to keep up with all the new terms at some point.
I replaced the phone on the stand, rubbing my eyes for a minute, getting my bearings. But after just a few seconds, it perked up, buzzing out of control.
"Oh, come on!" Steve bellowed from his room down the hall- and I quickly yanked the phone off the hook before he had a conniption.
"Harrington residence-"
"Harrington!" The voice on the other side of the phone cheered, and I had to yank the speaker from my ear to keep from losing my hearing. "God, you can sleep through a tornado,"
"Hey, Eddie." I smile. "I think I fell asleep on the phone, it was off the hook for hours."
"I figured, after good ol' Stevie picked up once or twice." Eddie teased.
"Yeah, he was not thrilled." I snorted, shaking my head. "Well- what could be so important for you to torture my poor brother so?"
"Today happens to be Saturday," He drawls, "And that means it's the weekend…"
"Oh, shit! We're supposed to hang out today." I realize, glancing at myself in the mirror across the room. I was a visual horror.
"Ding, ding! Still down?" He asked. Something in his voice- and maybe it was my imagination- but something sounded slightly sad. Like he was prepping himself for me to turn him down.
"Yeah!" I rushed, stumbling from bed and stretching the phone chord as far as it could go. 'Yeah, I just need a little bit to get ready."
"You? Never." His voice was relieved, instantly back in flirt mode. "You always look good. Impossible"
"God." I flushed. "You know, men say that, but they don't really understand what natural really is until it's painfully obvious, and then they think natural is repugnant, and then you're left feeling like shit because you offered a vulnerable side of yourself to them that they said was hot but really-"
I rant and rant, brushing my hair out, feeling it rip with the ferocity.
"Woah there, spitfire. Not you, Harrington." He broke through, his laughter sounding kind of impressed with my speech. "Not to me."
"You haven't even seen me." I tsked. "You're getting way ahead of yourself, buddy. So, yours or mine?"
The line went quiet, and for a second I thought I lost him. I tapped on the receiver. "Earth to Munson? Still there?"
"Yeah," He breathed. "You cool with me dropping in over there?"
I cursed internally, praying for a break. My room was cluttered, various books littering the floor from assignment over the holidays that I'd neglected to even start. Now, I'd have to tidy up and pull myself together. If I had more time I could host, but I really preferred not to.
"What's wrong, don't want me throwing off the vibe?" I pressed, brows knitting lightly. "I won't stink the place up, I swear."
"Uhhh," His voice was uneven, "That's not what I'm worried about."
Then what was he worried about? Hesitantly, I groaned. "Alright, whatever. My room's a mess right now, though."
"Maybe I'll tidy it up with you," He seems to ease up after I give in. "If you're good."
I scoff, my cheeks flaming. "Yeah, ok. No chance. It'll be sparkling by the time you're here anyway. See you in 45?"
He laughs lowly. "Fine, whatever you say, La. Seeya."
The next 45 minutes are spent in a mad dash, as I sweep places I've never swept before, curl my hair in intricate waves, and shave everything. I just liked feeling smooth, that was all. I stuff all my laundry into the closet, toss a few dishes in the sink, and finally, when I have a breath, I peak over at my journal. I had been writing in it more and more, these past few months. I decide it's necessary to transcribe my dream before it's too late and I've forgotten it entirely- I needed to ponder it later. I scribble along the pages until the front doorbell rings. Then, I stumble up, rushing to tuck it beneath my mattress. I flip side to side in place, trying to decide where in the room to sidle up- then I lounge across my bed, snagging a magazine up and crossing my legs casually- but perfectly draped. I puff my breath out over my hand, sniffing to see if I can detect any sourness. But I drop my arm as my door nudges open.
Eddie has a large carrying case slung over his back, shaped suspiciously like a guitar. Various stickers adorn it- Black Sabbath, Metallica, Corroded Coffin- the usual Eddie picks. I give him a nod, still trying to act like I didn't just spend 45 minutes straight cleaning my room for him to comfortably lounge in.
He drops his case down carefully, clapping his hands together, pointing them at me. "Proposition."
"Listening." I respond cautiously.
"I need to practice for a show coming up. You clearly need to study," He observes, and I scramble to tidy some books I'd missed in my haste.
"You wanna play? Here?" I laughed, looking around to accentuate my point.
The pink, pastel room seemed an odd choice to play metal in.
"Aw, come on," Eddie pleaded, placing his hands over his heart. He dropped to his knees, and I jumped at the sudden movement- laughing in shock. "You know you wanna hear me play."
My nose scrunched as I considered him- then I sighed. "Get off the floor."
He bounced to his feet, saluting me instead. I jumped again. His hand fell.
"I beg you, fair lady, allow me to attempt to woo you," He pleaded, saturated in a phony medieval accent. His eyes were boring into mine.
"I don't need you to woo me." I roll my eyes. He's already wooed me. "Play for your life."
"For my life?" He parroted, confounded.
"If I like what I hear, fine. If you play like you have 2 fingers and one arm, it's not worth torturing Steve." I clarify, crossing my arms.
"Always honest," He laughs nervously, "Never fear, you'll like what you hear- I am a god."
I blink, signaling him to start with a wave of my hand. He fiddles with various parts of the guitar for a second, then squints at me, as if trying to figure something out. Suddenly, his expression clears, and he positions his fingers. Then, the opening riff for Rock Me Like a Hurricane began. I sit up straight, brows rising. Not my favorite song, but one that he'd handpicked from the store. I knew it. And he played it well. In fact, he played it really well. I felt my chest heat up, suppressing an impressed smile.
His fingers were nice to watch. I felt my scalp tingle as if he was sending the music straight to my brain. He looked to me with a small, cocky smirk. Then, he began singing. Quiet, and lazily. Goofy. But I felt my arms prickle at the sound. Hearing his singing voice- I felt like my heart was going to explode. And it was all for me. I was definitely swooning internally. I'd never been one for musicians- but I was now. I couldn't hold it back anymore, proud smile upturning.
He finished, crossing his arms cockily. "So, may I please practice in casa del Harrington?"
I chuckled. "Fine. You're actually pretty good."
"Oh, La, how you flatter me," He cooed, focusing on the guitar again. He sidled up into my bed, feet hanging off the edge.
"Yeah, yeah," I responded lazily, pattering around the bed to collect some nail polish.
He strummed, and I painted. I eventually relaxed into the sound of him, strumming half a song, cursing, restarting, moving on halfway through. I buffed my toenails first, had time to base coat, polish and topcoat them whilst he strummed beside me. It was nice. He glanced over occasionally to assess my work. Then, I moved onto my finger nails. And I realized I knew quite a few of the songs he was playing.
"Bet I can guess all the songs you're playing, now." I challenged nonchalantly.
"Oh, yeah?" He grinned, flipping his bangs from his eyes. He had worked up a sweat, slightly damp.
"Mmhm. I've known all of them thus far." I nodded, finishing a base coat on my left thumb. "Come on, hit me with one."
He thought for a second, tongue peaking out. Then he began to strum. I grinned, lounging back and grinning. He peaked up, stopping his strumming.
"Already? Okay, hot shot, hit me with it." He smirked.
"Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Queen." I did a little dance. He nodded, impressed.
"Okay, but what about something more my style?" He hummed in question.
He immediately began shredding on the guitar, and my brow furrowed. At first I recognize it, but can't place it. Then the pitch adjusts higher- and I grin, expression clearing. He looks to me briefly, the guitar whining when he stops abruptly.
"No way." He gapes. "I didn't give you that album yet,"
"I have a radio, doofus." I raise a brow, finishing my middle right finger. "The Trooper, Iron Maiden."
"I think I'm gonna marry you someday," He moaned, guitar pick faceted in between his teeth. He adjusted the guitar parts again while I flushed, beaming abashedly.
"You're too easily impressed." I rolled my eyes. "I know you like metal, I listened to some metal."
"You're just full of surprises." He shook his head, arm slung across the guitar. His eyes were no less than adoring.
I glanced sidelong, waving a hand at him. "Keep it going, come on,"
"Alright. If you know this one, I'll be beyond impressed." He decides, and then he begins strumming.
This one I don't get immediately. I manage to get through a full coat of paint, blowing on them to dry while he plays alongside me. I wiggle closer, dropping my chin down into my hand. I don't know this one. But I have half a guess. I peak up at him, and he glances to me, fingers starting to fumble. He clears his throat, focus going back to the guitar. I nod along until he finishes the song, and then he rests his head against his arm.
"Sooo?" He gushed, eyes sparkling.
"I don't know that one." I admitted. "It was good though. Was it- Metallica?"
He booped my nose, side of his mouth quirked up. "You're a smarty."
"What song?" I tilted my head.
"Fade To Black." He merely responded. "You're getting that album, next."
"How many of these am I gonna have to buy?" I frowned, but I was mostly joking. "I may get an allowance, but I have a budget, Munson."
"This one's on me." He smiled gently. "Gotta build you a wicked collection."
"Well, I look forward to it." I smiled.
There was a quick rap against the door, then Steve popped his head in. "Oh, that makes sense- was wondering what that racket was."
"Racket? That was metal, dude." Eddie scowled, seeming offended.
"Whatever. You good with mac and cheese tonight, La? I don't feel like making anything crazy." Steve responded, tuning Eddie out.
I turned to Eddie pointedly. "You like mac and cheese?"
He glowed, giving Steve a shit eating grin. "I love mac and cheese, Stevie boy."
Steve rolled his eyes. "Yeah, fine. Just rinse your dishes, okay?"
"What do you think I am, some kind of animal?" Eddie sighed dramatically.
Steve opened his mouth to reply, but then thought better of it, and closed it again. He turned to leave, but Eddie stopped him. I was nearly finished with my top coats now, a full set of nails done in ample time.
"I bet you can't name this song." Eddie challenged, hands hovering over the strings.
Steve looked like he was above the opportunity, then his expression turned annoyed. "I'll know the damn song, try me."
Eddie grinned, flicking his wrist and letting his fingers take over. Steve listened intently, then his expression turned triumphant.
"Super Freak." He declared like it was too easy.
Eddie cheered. "Hey, you got it! Never doubted you."
"Why?" I hummed, blowing on my nails to dry them. "Is it because Steve's a super freak?"
"You weren't supposed to tell him," Eddie whispered, and I snorted.
"Alright, alright, haha." Steve dropped his crossed arms. "You chuckle-heads better help me out or you're getting sleep for dinner."
I groaned, pushing off the bed. Eddie and I aided Steve's plight, conversation remaining relatively casual. It made me smile, knowing the ice had maybe finally cracked. All it took was Eddie literally proving himself by dragging Steve's limp, barely conscious body away from a fight in the middle of New Year's Eve festivities.
I'd thought about that night every day since it happened. Steve had apologized profusely, swearing off parties altogether for the unforeseeable future. He was embarrassed it got to where it had, but I could also tell he felt slightly relieved Eddie was there, too, watching my back. Steve had his own things going on- Nancy was definitely a big stressor. Dustin was a new, unusual friend- and otherwise Steve was just kind of wading in the deep end. So I can only imagine that someone else looking out for his sister meant a big weight off of his shoulders. Plus, Eddie had helped him, too. It was safe to say Steve was defrosting.
I'd also thought of the end of the night- right at the end- before I swept Steve's floppy quiff away from his stream of vomit as he hovered over our toilet. No, it was that kiss- the meaningless one, right after midnight, a token of gratitude. Today had been so easy, so fun- and I could tell after that kiss that I felt something deeper for Eddie than friendly, curious feelings. I had considered the ramifications of it every single night and every single morning, but still, I couldn't quite process what to do next.
But as my two favorite guys in my life fought over the order of ingredients in the casserole dish right in front of me, I decided not to push. I would figure it out. And I'd just accept that I was having a very good day.