~Sierra~

I lifted the scorching hot styrofoam cup of coffee to my face. For a few moments, I allowed the searing steam to penetrate my pores. I wasn't sure if I was trying to calm down or set myself alight. There was no in between, no compromise. I either wanted to feel at one with the world somehow through the aroma of bitter coffee or let it kill me. Upon inspection of the mud-colored coffee, I decided I wanted the latter. How did I come to this conclusion, you ask? Simple - Tom fucking Holloway. Maybe instead of wishing such disastrous things upon myself, I could just throw the coffee over the misogynistic prick. Unfortunately, the mood I was in made me desperate to inflict enough pain to create third degree burns. Staining his white, clearly unironed, shirt was out of the question. However, I wasn't going to give the dick the satisfaction of firing me.

Oh, I knew he wanted to fire me. So fucking badly. After all, the article had been a success. The people of Hawkins had heeded the words printed on the last two pages of the newspaper and heard the cogs begin to turn. Even Dad had to concede, it was a thought-provoking read. Both to my satisfaction and demise, no matter how much he'd had to hand it to me, Dad still saw it as an attack against him. Coupled with how I helped Mom get visitation rights to Zack, I was stirring up a real storm for him. On the day it was released, he came to pick up Zack and held the rolled up newspaper in his clutches, shaking it with such vigor like he was giving me a good ol' fashioned telling off, yet chuckling like a proud father. He'd grown stubble. I'd smirked. In those inked words, I'd struck a nerve. Those nerves were starting to frazzle. God, imagining the sound of his brain cracking under the stress of his latest facade was the closest to a psychopath I'd ever be. No matter how much I tried to restrain myself from feeling even so much as a morsel of the adrenaline rush, it felt goddamn good to witness his fall from grace up close. Time was ticking away and it was getting closer to the truth being revealed. Everyone would soon see Anthony Nightingale had a mask, just like everyone else. His was worse. One not to be trusted around a child, one not to be trusted with another woman, one not to be trusted at all. Not under any circumstances.

And yet, despite virtually hearing the pop and crackles of all his schemes, this was the closest I had ever felt to him. It was like when he'd be lying on the floor, drenched in his own vomit, a whiskey glass in one hand, and I'd tenderly move him onto his side and dab away at the chunks and bile with all the care and love in the world, knowing the stains would never come out and I'd be at fault, at the end of his fist, for it. It was a bond born from dysfunction and power imbalance. They were the only things fuelling our relationship. The reason we were in each other's lives. I was here to stop him, he was here to keep going. He was here to wreak havoc and I was here to pick up the pieces. It was fucked up. We were fucked up for somehow feeling an ounce of love for one another.

"Great read, Sierra. Absolutely swell" he'd sarcastically remarked. He'd reached out his hand and squeezed my shoulder, giving his head a defiant nod. "I'm proud of you, kid. You really got me good this time"

Initially, I wasn't able to tell if he was proud or whether this was all a ploy. After all, my grandparents were in the background, ears like rabbits, twitching with every word and every enunciation. Perhaps, he was proud of me, in this sadistic way. Perhaps, he enjoyed this power play or enjoyed seeing at least one trait of his shine brightly in his offspring. We were so far removed from each other, yet there was this pull. A pull of hatred, tugging and tugging with every scream, deception and roll of the eye, until it was confused for love. At what point did the pure contempt and resentment end and where did affection and a basic parent-child love start? No amount of care I felt for Dad would ever make him less of an asshole. He could be proud of me and still treat me like shit on the end of his shoe.

Speaking of assholes, back to Tom Holloway. I had this smoldering, uncomfortable fire burning my insides from even thinking about him. Essentially, I'd been demoted back to coffee duties. I arrived to work as usual in the morning. 08:56am to be exact. I had my own coffee in hand, wearing a black and white bardot top, black midi skirt and the loveliest pair of onyx, glass oval earrings Mom gifted to me from her personal jewelry set. It was quite possibly the most ladylike I'd ever appeared before. I felt like a professional woman who was climbing the ladder, pushing men like Tom and Bruce off with a pointed heel and watching them plummet. As I sauntered to my office, I opened the door to find Bruce and Tom taking turns whacking the punching bag, letting out the most guttural, unholy grunts with every hit. They were wearing wife beater tanks, patches of sweat spotted all over them.

"Having one last go before you get rid of it, boys?" I'd asked in, perhaps, what was too cocky a voice.

Both of them stared at me with this blank, dopey expression. Mouths hung open like they were catching flies, they made me wait there without an explanation for their silence, until my eyes landed on the cardboard box. Once I'd registered just what was happening, the burst of uninhibited laughter boomed. The sheer pain of the strike to my heart must have flooded onto my face.

"Nope, but we are getting rid of your things!" Bruce chortled and proceeded to take a large and loud slurp of coffee from a mug with the bright, arrogant words, 'Mr Mean Machine' printed on. Arrogant prick… "Not you though, Nightingale. You need to get me another one of these" He tapped on the mug and slid it across the desk in my direction.

"I-I don't understand" I'd managed to stutter, completely dumbfounded.

"Erm, how can I put this exactly…" Bruce murmured and made an expression like he was really, sincerely thinking on how to rephrase the obvious. "One latte with sugar. Nothing's changed, kid! Easy as pie"

"Not your coffee, Bruce. I meant, I don't understand why all my things are packed up" I paused in a very strained attempt to not get all flustered. It would only serve them, not me. "I did what you asked me to do and wrote an article on Starcourt Mall, you released it and it was well received, so why are you throwing me out of my office?"

"Well, don't get me wrong, you wrote a fantastic article, Nightingale. But, unfortunately, we need this office for very important business affairs" Holloway informed me, his voice as serious as a thick, penciled line.

He and Bruce nodded solemnly, still deadly serious. There was no use in waiting for the punchline. I was the punchline. Yet, I still waited a few more seconds, hopeful they would burst out laughing again. But the laughter never came. Instead, they stood around - hands folded dominantly over puffed out chests, eyes of a two day hangover from the previous Saturday glaring at me in furious red. I held their stares despite feeling the urge to grab the punching bag and make them its target. Revenge for the punching bag, a giggle for me.

"You literally have a punching bag in here" I droned.

"Hey, you women keep telling us men to get an outlet for whatever 'rage' we have," Bruce started, gesturing air quotes for 'rage'. He snorted derisively and shook his head. God, I seriously felt sorry for his wife.

"Exactly, Bruce. This is for the benefit of the whole office, Nightingale. As much as we would like for you to write more articles, unfortunately, there are no more offices available. We're a small company, you know?" Tom then shrugged with a pout which signaled he expected me to seriously believe the shit he was spewing. "Without a desk though, where are you going to write?"

"Tom, I'm here on an internship to write - let me write" I demanded, my voice clear I was not going to stand for his bullshit. "You can't seriously expect my role here to be demoted because of a punchbag. I'm here to write, so I'm writing. Even if it's from the goddamn roof"

There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence where Tom and I just glowered at each other. I wasn't being his 'perfect girl', as he so often said to the receptionists when they'd blush at one of his shitty jokes or get his order within ten minutes. He was so used to having submissive women, cultivated to being mousy because if they were anything else it would be met with rage, run around him. To him, they were perfect. To him, they would never pose a problem. But to me, they were gluing the shattered glass roof back together. My article had shattered the roof in this building and the shards had rained all over him. But Tom didn't like being rained on. He didn't like how he wasn't the one to grab the hammer and shatter it himself. He didn't like how someone had pointed out there was a glass roof in the first place. He didn't like me. I was fine with that. Tom Holloway didn't have to like me. He didn't have to say a word to me for all I cared. He could spit out every derogatory word in six different languages and I would still just nod and walk on. But, what he did have to do - as my boss - was recognize I did a damn good fucking job.

Bruce broke the tension with a long, high-pitched whistle.

"Alright, rich kid, relax…" he murmured, cracking a chortle.

Jesus, if I hadn't been so in control of my expressions right now, my eye would have twitched. I fucking loathed people calling me that. All my life, it was like other people were violently grabbing my shoulders, shoving me to the ground, and stomping this label on me.

Rich Girl. Daddy's Girl. The Little Princess. The Spoiled Brat. The Clueless Fucking Rich Bitch.

I was the opposite and I despised any suggestion of nepotism. Christ, I'd literally endured being called a crazy bitch for a good three months because I'd publicly yelled at my ex for gloating about an internship Dad gave him. Bastard still worked there and drove in a cherry red, top of the range car each day, and still fucking waved at me.

I fucking hated it. I did not get this internship through Daddy. I'd earned it. I'd fucking earned it.

And yet, I still had to ask the question - did I really?

It made me hate myself more than I already did at that moment.

"Look, Sierra, you did a fantastic job. You really did, sweetheart" Tom began. I could barely suppress the eye roll. Fucking sweetheart. "But, at the end of the day, I'm the head of Hawkins Post. So, I make the decisions. You're an intern here, not a full time member of staff" He slowly paced over and clapped his hand on my shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. A firm squeeze. A punch. I blinked. Snap. Back in the room. "Alright, sweetheart? It's as simple as that. Did that make sense to you?"

I wished I'd called him a patronizing piece of shit.

"Crystal" I said, the words I desperately wanted to placing their invisible hands around my throat, tightening until I couldn't breathe.

I walked away, the echo of the click-clack of my heels bombarding furiously after me.

I went to the small kitchen where I found Nancy and Jonathan who immediately noted how the carnage inside of me, for whatever reason, wasn't even close to finishing. Promptly, Jonathan poured me a cup of coffee.

"You want milk?" he asked.

"Black" I replied.

"Got it" he said, with a knowing look on his face.

I only drink black coffee when I need something so bad to drown out all the other bad shit.

So, all of this led to Jonathan, Nancy and I being sat on a bench a block away from Hawkins Post. Jonathan was sipping quietly on his coffee. Nancy was doing that thing she does where she stares at you with her doe eyes in a futile bid to get you to speak. As for me, I was still pondering over whether I wanted the steam to set me on fire or calm me down.

"We could work together in the kitchen?" Nancy piped up.

"Please, Nance, I want to have Tom take me seriously, not turn him on. That guy gets way too happy when he sees women in the kitchen" I sighed.

My gaze was dead set on an advertisement for some candy. Bold, demanding print screamed, 'You've got all weekend to make up your mind'. It was fucking Monday. It was goddamn Monday and I didn't have two days to make my mind up as to whether being at Hawkins Post was worthwhile. I had five days to balance spending time with Grandpa, spending time with Mom, helping Mom with custody shit, spending time with Zack, and actually having time to think in between. Nope, I had five days and the first one was only just starting. I could use some candy though, that's for sure.

"I'm so done with Tom seeing us as props so everyone can think he believes in equality" I groaned into my hands. "It's so fucking infuriating"

It's times like these I wished Hargrove was here so he could light me up a cigarette and let me go on a verbal rampage. It was also times like these I just wished Hargrove was still here. Now, instead of having a cigarette and unloading to my closest friend, I was doing yoga and deep breathing exercises with mom. I wasn't sure which one I preferred. It had been weeks since I'd found out Billy had moved to California. Originally, the next day after we'd fought, I'd gone round personally to see him. Neil had answered the door, unable to look me in the eye, and told me Billy had left a note saying he was going to California and never coming back. Neil seemed unfazed, but I could tell something was bothering him by the edge in his voice. He'd sucked in a quick line of air through his mouth before assertively stuffing his hands in his jean pockets and subtly pushing out his groin. It was weird how older guys did that to assert dominance. Seriously weird. I knew Harrington had spoken to him. He'd wanted to take on the role of mediator. In fact, he was determined to. If I hadn't even had a chance to think and followed my emotions, I would have blurted out, "OhmyGodyeshowisheisheokaydoeshestillloveme?"

Instead, I shook my head. I told him to give Billy space. I told him to give me space. So we continued to shoot some hoops with the question looming over us like a heavy cloud before rainfall. There was a part of me that wished I'd asked him to let me speak to Billy. But truthfully, I didn't want to have my heart broken all over again. All it would take was his voice. One word. It could have been, "Bumbershoot", and I still would have fallen in a crying, messy heap on the floor. I asked a lot about how he was. But I didn't want to know what he was getting up to. The complete reversal in Billy's personality that night - the impulsivity, the anger - told me enough. He'd be out every night. He'd be getting drunk. He'd be snorting coke. He'd be sleeping with girls. He'd be a complete fucking wreck and it broke my heart.

"I know what you mean" Nancy said, snapping me out of my thoughts. "But look, we can do this. Even if we investigate at my house"

"What is there to investigate, Nance?" I sighed, my voice forlorn and void of any hope. I'd helped to wake up this sleepy town and really make them think about whether the mall was going to benefit us or whether we were betraying the shopkeepers who had been loyal to us for decades. And what was my thanks? A sweaty, torn punching bag being able to keep my fucking office.

"The contracts with Stargate Enterprises? We need to explore that more. Seriously, Sierra, this could be our chance" Nancy said in a hushed voice.

"Nance, we promised to never talk about this in public" I whispered harshly back.

We'd pinkie promised, in fact. Including Byers. We had copies of those contracts locked in Nancy's safe where her whole family knew she kept her thick framed glasses from middle school. There was no reason to go in there. We were still no closer to translating the Russian either. Funnily enough, trying to locate a Russian dictionary in a small, hicktown library wasn't exactly easy. For all we knew, no one in this town spoke Russian and the idea of even asking was absurd. I didn't fancy getting taken to Hopper under suspicion of being a Commie.

"There's so much more I could spill on this goddamn town, Sierra. That we could spill" Nancy determinedly said. I couldn't help but to smile at her. She was a real diamond. She wanted us to succeed, to overcome everyone who said we couldn't. "But, I'll always respect a pinkie promise" Then, she did something I didn't expect. She gently squeezed my hand. "And I'll always have your corner, Nightingale"

"And I'll always have yours, Wheeler" I squeezed her hand back.

We just looked at each other for a few, precious seconds. I could see her grow up in those seconds. From the girl with brunette pigtails and thick square glasses to a woman who kept her promise to protect her friends. Through the years, we'd had our shares of trials and tribulations. But we always knew when to take the others hand and squeeze it tight, and believed it would work.

I didn't want the coffee to set me on fire anymore.

I didn't need it to.

But, I did want to stain Tom Holloway's shirt.

"Hey, not to intrude…" Jonathan meekly voiced.

"Oh, don't get all sentimental on us, Byers!" I said, reaching over and hauling a screeching Jonathan over Nancy's lap. I collapsed onto him and let the belly laughs flow freely. "I guess we have your back too"

"I was just gonna say we need to get back to work" Jonathan chuckled, trying to remove himself from the tight pile of bodies over him right now.

"Ugh, fuck those guys. Just go with this for a bit, Byers" I laughed.

And we did, we stayed there huddled awkwardly on a bench. Coffee spilled at our feet, we were a bundle of weirdos just getting by in this world. And that's all we needed to be. Until we seriously did need to get back to work. Apparently Tom and Bruce weren't going to get coffee themselves…

After six hours of tediously collecting coffee mugs and taking the odd walk around the corner to grab sandwiches, the day was finally over. Six whole goddamn hours of boring chores. I decided not to tell Mom about this latest blunder in my career. She'd call it development, positively twisting the narrative here so I'd be the victor. A setback, sure, but did it help me gain some perspective? I loved her, but I couldn't exactly respond with, "Yes, I gained more perspective on how my boss is truly a misogynistic dickhead". In saying that though, whilst she'd lightly chastise me, she ultimately believed cursing was healthy for girls my age. After being stopped by Tom for yet another profusely pathetic apology for the events of the day, I managed to escape with a curt nod and sickeningly sweet smile, and met Nancy and Jonathan outside where Mom was waiting for us with Zack in the car.

As we got closer, I could see Zack was quite literally vibrating from excitement. As I'd predicted, he was already in his swimming shorts, a large white shirt with a T-Rex printed swathed over his small body. Mom was chatting to him, no doubt encouraging him to be as happy as possibly. Considering she'd been absent from his life for nearly two years, Zack had become very attached to her within a matter of minutes. She'd researched everything on dinosaurs, and so, had become his favorite person in the whole entire world. It was the key to his heart, his mind and his devotion. She'd been so enthusiastic about it, that she insisted on taking us to the history museum in Indianapolis where Zack had genuinely shown an interest in more than dinosaurs. Mom had spent a long time wandering around the place beforehand to ensure it was a good idea. She was seriously dedicated to parenting him, parenting us. We'd done a far bit together. Our bond was different though. Whilst she was maternal, she also felt like someone I could confide in and giggle about boys with. I felt like a teenager again. Shit, I was a teenager, but I actually felt like one now. I felt lighter, like every weight had been grabbed and thrown from my shoulders. It was like walking on air. Her presence just made everything lighter.

So, when I saw her there, in her big, black statement sunglasses and linen striped sundress, the corners of my mouth lifted effortlessly. We all clambored in, singing our 'Happy Birthdays' to Zack who cheered whenever someone said it to him. I sat in the front, leaning over to ruffle Zack's dark curls.

"Looking forward to our dive bombing competition, Zack?" I laughed, winking at the kid.

"There's no competition when you're gonna lose, Sierra!" Zack cackled.

"You're ruthless, kid!" I gasped, clutching my heart in mock offense.

"Wellllllll, I guess I could let you win once" Zack said, poking his tongue out at me cheekily.

"Alright, you get one year older and you're suddenly a big, hard man?" I joked, doing my best imitation of a guy whose testosterone was virtually leaking from his eyes.

"That's what Daddy told me to do!"

Mom and I shot each other the same look: don't react, don't reveal that he's a bad man. Just laugh. Titter away like it's no big deal. Laugh like we like Daddy.

"Anyway, Jonathan and Nancy, how have you both been?" Mom quickly asked, sweetly.

Both Nancy and Jonathan nodded eagerly, their heads bobbing up and down at a ridiculous speed, and murmuring hurried yeses and the usual pleasantries one would expect in an awkward situation. Zack, however, was more than astute and picked up on the dampened mood. Small, fluffy brows creased, little indentations in between them, he frowned and threw us all a cross look.

"Was Daddy wrong?" Zack huffed.

Since he'd come back into our lives, like with Mom, Zack had grown overly attached. It was clear as day why. He didn't want them to leave again. He wanted to do everything in his power to ensure he could please them enough so they could never leave. A deep sense of guilt penetrated me. I'd raised a people pleaser. He'd seen me do whatever I could do to make Dad happy and to keep the peace rather than what I could do to get us away from it. Zack didn't see me spill every detail to Hopper. He didn't know I had. All he knew was his Dad had been away for so long without a word, long enough to begin to think it was his fault. The past was repeating itself. Hadn't I thought it was my fault Mom left initially? Was I raised to keep the peace or to break it? Was there even a middle ground? There was either peace or war, a battlefield of dead bodies or people shaking hands. Middle ground did not exist.

"You can be whatever you want to be, pumpkin" Mom's words laced with sage managed to assuage Zack enough to find a distraction. We exchanged a silent sigh of relief. It was a conversation for another day. But maybe that's what our problem was. It was a conversation that hadn't taken place. It was a conversation we'd tip-toe around and hope would go away. It was a conversation taking place solely in our minds. We weren't mind readers. We were people pleasers. "Anyway, how was work today, honey?"

I really had to stifle the urge to groan loudly and disdainfully into my hands again.

Fucking Tom Holloway…

"It was okay. Just trying to find another story now" I replied casually, shrugging my shoulders like finding another big write was something around the corner every day on my way to work. "How's Robert and Marigold?"

I'd met Robert and Marigold more than a handful of times since Mom came back. Robert Wingrave was the exact opposite of what he looked like. A man dressed in the best garments money could buy him, jet black hair slicked to perfection and a strong, masculine demeanor about him. He walked like he had the confidence of a president, was the first to put out his hand and firmly shake the other, and said things like, "Well that's swell!" and "Mighty fine day for a walk!". I wanted my shoulders to bristle in his company, but found they simply couldn't. I actually did the opposite. Whenever his chirpy, deep Texan voice spoke up, I imagined eating a warm apple pie next to an open fire. Robert was assertive yet incredibly soft. He was the biggest walking juxtaposition I'd ever met. The first time I met him was when he'd come to Hawkins for a day. Mom and I had a picnic and sat under the famous apple tree in the Loch Nora park where kids would get apples for apple bobbing at Halloween or to throw at other houses. When Robert swanned through the gates, Mom transformed into this giggling teenage girl. I could see why! He quite literally looked like an Old Hollywood star with all the suave and charismatic charm that came along with one. Attired in a minimalist white linen shirt with the first few buttons open to reveal wisps of black chest hair, navy blue slacks and basic leather belt, he greeted Mom with a tender kiss on the cheek before sitting down with me.

"Mighty fine to meet you, Sierra!" he cheerfully said and eagerly put his hand out to shake mine. I looked him dead in the eyes and firmly squeezed back. If anything, our first contact wasn't a stepdaughter meeting a stepdad. It was a business transaction. It was me giving out the sign I wasn't going to get close to him. "My, oh my! You, young lady, have one hell of a good handshake!" When my brow lifted in curiosity, he leaned forwards and whispered. "That's a good thing, by the way, ma'am"

I'd caught myself saying 'mighty' a few times now and internally slapped myself for it. But I still couldn't control the small smile on my lips.

Not to mention, Robert adored Marigold, my little half-sister. She was nearly two years old and was a complete Daddy's girl. As for Robert, he was a Marigold's girl. The two of them were the sweetest friends and he was so eager to show her the world. After we met at the park, we picked Marigold up from one of Robert's colleagues' wives and went to the diner for some dinner. I really admired how upbeat Robert was in general, like a golden retriever almost. When some french fries arrived for him to snack on, Robert grinned like a kid.

"Thanks so much, ma'am" he'd said to the waitress who'd blushed and scampered away giggling. He gave Marigold one and began telling her the beauty of a good French fry. "Marigold, there is nothing better in this world than a bowl of French fries and tomato sauce".

Marigold burst out giggling. Robert just seemed to emanate this positivity and made everyone around him laugh with his boyish charm and positive outlook on the things we would usually surpass in life.

"They're great!" Mom chirped happily, a big smile growing on her lips. She was most certainly in love. "Hey, Marigold has been trying to say your name, Zack!"

"Is Marigold coming too?" Zack was a little wary about Marigold. She'd seemed to take on the chipper side of her father which Zack both loved and took against. It was typical sibling rivalry which considering the circumstances of him getting attached to Mom and wanting her attention all the time, made sense. It was just about finding the fine line with him right now. When Mom nodded, Zack sighed and smiled simultaneously, resigning to the fact another sibling was going to get Mom's attention. "Okay, but you're gonna swim with me. Right, Mommy?"

"Of course, pumpkin!" Mom was still treading the line carefully, trying to find her own footing too.

When we finally got to the pool, we filed out of the car and went straight to the changing rooms. Mom was already dressed in her swimsuit with a light, beige cotton coverup on and headed to the pool where Robert was waiting for her with Marigold. He sat with Mrs Wheeler and the usual crew of moms who spent most days lounging on the sunbeds in neon swimsuits and red lipstick. I got dressed into my dark red swimsuit, kind of like the one Phoebe Cates wore in Fast Times At Ridgemont High. I scrutinized myself in the full length mirror and peered down to my legs where the indelible road map of pale tendrils marked the tops of my thighs. There was a reason I never really went swimming. I felt comfortable amongst Billy, my friends, but to be in a public place was beyond terrifying. I knew people would see, but I also didn't want to look out of place. The scars were enough to do just that, were enough to prompt the whispers amongst the Poolside Moms. They'd be whispering if I wore a T shirt and shorts to a pool anyway, so they might as well just know. I didn't want to feel the burn of the lighter, the shame, anymore. As long as I was comfortable in myself, I was comfortable going out there.

And so, I took a deep breath, reminded myself the housewives were merely bored and hungry like vultures for gossip whether it be me, Mom coming back, or a pigeon shitting on the sidewalk, and proceeded to saunter out to meet the others. When I emerged, I was met by the sun radiating down on me. It was like an embrace, like a ' Hey! Well done, you did it!". The place was teeming with kids who liberated high pitched squeals when they threw themselves into the pool, only to be met by a torrent of waves unleashed from another. Sunlight reflected on the chaotic ripples, inviting more and more wild kids to join the havoc. Excessively blown up balls were thrown from one side of the pool to the other. Christ, I felt bad for whoever the lifeguard was. One look at Pepsi giving goo-goo eyes over at the ice cream stall told me it was Heather. Nancy and I went over to greet Harrington and Pepsi who were 'testing' the ice cream. Also known as, they fancied a freebie for their lunch. To their credit, it was that goddamn hot that I would be doing the same. Stepping into the sun for just a moment created a sudden cascade of dripping sweat all over me. My bare feet were virtually peeling already on the white tiles.

"Need to cool off already?" Pepsi exclaimed enthusiastically and before I could think of what to say, she'd prepared me a chocolate chip waffle cone.

"You sure you want to go into acting, Peps? Because that was a hell of a good sale!" Nancy giggled.

"Salespeople are all actors, Nance" Pepsi remarked, passing her one too. "Helps when you can't say no to me"

"It's true, she's our best upseller so far!" Harrington praised, giving Pepsi a congratulatory pat on the back.

"Depends who it's with, Harrington. After all, those college girls seemed pretty open to buying ten cones from you!" Pepsi snickered.

"It's a talent, Peps, that's all it is!" Steve winked.

"Yet, you still have no dates" Pepsi sighed in mock sadness. "Poor Harrington"

"Well, I don't think the sailors hat does a lot, but the boss won't let me take it off! How are these chicks meant to be charmed without the hair?" In sync, we all rolled our eyes and groaned theatrically. It was always about the hair with Harrington! "Hey, I don't make the rules, guys, I just work with it"

"Keep telling yourself that, Harrington," I laughed.

As we fell into the ease of chit-chatting about various things - Pepsi's summer camp, Harrington's hair, the spot Nancy had on her back that was really irritating her - my eyes drifted across the pool. Robert was in a quieter, less hectic area of the pool where he was cradling Marigold, tickling her toes. An elated trill of laughter escaped, echoing through the many shouts and squeals. I smiled to myself, the same warmth from imagining the apple pie in winter rushing over me. Soon enough, Robert caught onto me watching them and our smiles simultaneously grew. I excused myself from the chatter and went over to the poolside where I was met by one of Robert's booming, jaunty phrases.

"Well, I was wondering when I'd see you! Mighty fine day for a swim, don'tcha say?" Robert climbed out of the pool, giving me a bear hug with his free arm. Marigold stared at me with her large, green eyes and immediately began to suck on her thumb. I gave her a little wave and she reached out to grab my thumb, snagging it into her mouth. "Oh, we have one hell of an eager beaver over here!" He helped free my thumb, letting out his lively, resounding laugh.

"You don't say!" I laughed, giving the kid a wink.

"Chocolate chip! Best ice cream known to man" he remarked profoundly. "I best get me and Marigold one of those. Nothing better than a chocolate chip ice cream on a hot day" Do you know what I found so hilarious about Robert? The fact that he was a high-powered lawyer who used complex language and had to be so goddamn serious on a regular day, yet when it came to anything which gave him joy, he'd comment on it like it was the greatest thing in the world. How he managed to get by in Chicago was beyond me.

"Do you want me to get you one?" I offered and gestured to Steve.

"No, no, don't you worry about that, Sierra. Besides, I was gonna go back over to your Momma" We both looked over to where Mom was. She is with the Poolside Moms, glancing every few seconds to check on Zack. But, whilst she was sitting with them, it was very clear she was by herself. It reminded me of when I was a cheerleader - on the inside, but always on the outside. She was twiddling with her ringlets at lot, and when she wasn't watching feet, she'd look at the faces of the chattering moms who refused to look back, and cast her view to her feet. "Nothing worse than a clique of housewives"

I raised my eyebrows at him in surprise. It was the first critique I'd ever heard him make. Hell, I was sure the guy could have a cow shit on his feet and he'd sigh contentedly and say something like, "Nothing better than cow manure on a man's feet" or "Mighty fine day for a cow to take a dump on you" before throwing his head back laughing.

"Is it okay if you make sure she's not all lonesome while I get her an ice cream? Your Momma sure does love a good ice cream to cheer her up"

It was odd how many little things about her I found intriguing. Mom seemed like the kind of woman who when solitude came, she'd seek it from the words in a dog-eared book. I'd always loved the aura of elegant mystery surrounding her, so to hear of her doing something so simple was a new lesson learnt. I nodded at Robert who thanked me and headed over to Harrington and the others.

"What a glorious day for an ice cream, right, kids?" I heard him declare as I started to walk towards the Poolside Moms. I brought my hand to my lips, hiding the trickles of laughter as they escaped. Pepsi was going to fucking love this guy.

Growing closer to the Poolside Moms, I felt my heart begin to race, the boiling blood pumping around my body at the speed of light. They were so clearly ostracizing Mom. None of the conversation, no matter how banal it was, was being directed or even gestured at her. They may have been rowed up, sprawled on the sunbeds in the exact same way, but everything about their body language was making sure she was excluded. I was very certain Mom took no interest in the petty neighborhood gossip or how long to cook a roast chicken, but they were treating her like crap. Shit, why were people even cooking roast chicken in this goddamn heat anyway? Crazy. Absolutely fucking crazy.

"Hey, Mom" I said and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"Oh, hi, sweetie!" Mom said in her lilted voice, an air of relief clearly flooding over her. "We were just talking about… um…"

Yup, she'd completely mentally checked out of the conversation. Intrigue struck once again. How was it she'd once lived this life, kept a mask of her own on? She'd been a housewife for over a decade. In escaping from Dad, she was breaking the chains of what came along with being Anthony Nightingale's wife. With Robert, she had her own life independent from being 'just a mother' or 'just a wife'. But in doing so, she'd shaken up the inner circle. If she'd never left, she'd still have the mask of a Poolside Mom dying to be ripped off. I wondered if these other moms felt the same, if the receptionists at Hawkins Post were wanting to rip off their masks too, or if they were wearing them at all. Was the tedious gossip and talk of children all that subsisted amongst them, or was there something else, something screaming to reveal itself?

"Just about the grass not being cut for a couple of weeks in the local park" Mrs Wheeler finished for Mom, or rather, explained to her. She gave my mom a wink and a slight smile. They'd been close friends before Mom left. Oftentimes, Mrs Wheeler expressed her shock and disappointment over Mom's choice to Mr Wheeler when I was around the house and thought I wasn't listening. I couldn't tell if they were on friendly terms or if they were foes just keeping up appearances. "Not exactly the most riveting of conversations anyway!"

I sat down next to Mom on the sun lounger, feeling myself become glued to it through heat and sweat, and eyed Mrs Wheeler suspiciously. She'd struck me a fair few times, especially in these situations, as a superficial housewife. But the more Nancy ranted about her mom, the more I began to realize there was an envy within her that wasn't going to dissipate for as long as she stayed in a joyless marriage. Maybe she wasn't shocked and disappointed at Mom's choice. Maybe, Mrs Wheeler was jealous. Maybe, Mrs Wheeler lived and breathed on jealousy whilst surviving in this artificial suburbian dreamland. Mrs Wheeler flashed her white teeth at me in a wide smile and clasped her hands together, ready to abandon chatter about dog shit in the local park or whatever the hell they were talking about.

"So, Sierra, what have you both been up to?" Mrs Wheeler gestured between Mom and I.

"Oh, just usual stuff" I wafted my hand in a casual display. "Probably whatever you and Nancy get up to"

"Lots of shopping, I hope!" Mrs Wheeler squealed.

"A little" I replied.

We'd not gone shopping together once. We'd go on walks together on the outskirts of Hawkins with Marigold, cook Cuban food together and I'd listen to her reminisce wistfully about her parents, and do yoga together. We'd go out for picnics and laugh loudly at memories of when I was a kid. We'd watch classic movies back to back under a blanket until we'd fall asleep and Robert would come and wake us up. We took Zack for days out. We didn't shop together. It was the one thing we hadn't done and I was so fucking grateful for that. I didn't want to meander around the mall idly chatting with her. I wanted to know her beyond the title of Mom. I wanted to know the girl who came over from Cuba with her parents who had less than $30 in their pockets, who grew up waitressing, who came to Hawkins and forced her way into the hierarchy. I wanted to know the woman she'd become. The woman who'd started working as an aerobics instructor, the woman who I'd seen reading on the rug in that old library in ragged dungarees and found herself in another dimension, the woman who'd giggle endlessly whenever her husband exclaimed one of his Southern phrases. The hopeless romantic, the mother, the dreamer. I wanted to know every side of her. I wanted to know Rosa Wingrave, Rosa Nightingale and Rosa Alvarez. Three names, three stories, three lifetimes. I wanted to consume all the knowledge I could.

"We quite like relaxing in the apartment, to be honest" Mom stated, giving my back a little rub.

"Of course, but a little mother-daughter bonding over clothes and a little of someone else's money never goes amiss!" Sheila Hamilton's voice piped up.

She was a bleach blonde with a pointed yet archetypal face. The exact, spitting image of Bryony but older and cattier. Sheila spent precisely two hours a day on the sun loungers whenever the sun came out, always with her troop of mothers behind her, and always exuding a poisonous air. Anything she could critique or make into a drama, she'd do it and she'd do it loudly.

"Well, Sierra makes her own money and so do I, Sheila" Mom politely said. Inside, I knew she wanted to rip out strands of straw hair from Sheila's scalp. "But we prefer doing stuff indoors or going out for walks"

"Sounds peachy, Rosa" Sheila droned, uninterested and turned her face away, ending her part in this useless conversation. But, just as she'd started fanning her face, Sheila shot upwards and began frantically tapping/slapping Mrs Wheeler's arm. Red drowned out her fake tan and she was breathing excitedly, playing around with her bikini straps. "It's time, girls!"

Mom nudged me and nodded her head over to Robert who was still talking away to a flustered Pepsi. Pepsi may have been in the closet, but she had a penchant for older men who looked like Rock Hudson or Marlon Brando. Not like they came around very often in a place like Hawkins. We took a final glance at the suddenly active mothers who were watching the time tick away on their watches, fiddling around with their hair and getting into prime position for something or someone.

"Amazing how they're all still married, huh?" I remarked sarcastically. Mom placed a hand over her smile and wagged a finger at me.

"I'm sure their husbands love them very much" Mom tittered and we glanced back at them again. Sheila was applying lipstick and Mrs Wheeler was checking herself out in a mirror.

I rolled my eyes and walked over to the edge of the pool where Zack was beckoning Mom and I. He was practicing his backstroke and wanted us all to see. Mom showered down praises in her honeyed voice and pulled her beach dress over her head, flinging it aside onto the abandoned sun lounger next to Mrs Wheeler who was sorting out her blusher. Mom and I exchanged a roll of the eyes and dipped into the glistening pool. As my body submerged into the cool waters, I felt a sense of relief invade. I saw why Billy loved the water. Even with the raucous yells and screams above the surface, underneath was pure peace. It was like living in a bubble. A bubble of quiet where you could merely observe the chaos. But, every bubble bursts. Emerging from the tranquil sloshing of water and slurred voices, I was welcomed with a gigantic wave of water hitting me right in the face. When I'd finished gasping, I found Zack and Mom giggling away like maniacs together.

"Uh oh, she's figured it out!" Zack loudly whispered.

I brought my non-existent watch to eye level.

"You have a three second head start" I nonchalantly declared.

"Three?!" Zack indignantly cried.

"Make that two!" I declared.

Above Zack's head I could see Harrington drop his ice cream scoop, his jaw hanging open. I furrowed my brow. Heather walked past him, joining Pepsi and giving her a hug lasting longer than a typical friend. Nancy began to walk frantically over. Zack continued to plot with Mom on how to best drench me.

"One!"

The Poolside Mom's had stopped whispering amongst themselves. Zack's eyes widened. He gasped and clapped his hands.

"Billy!"

Did I just hear that right? No, surely not…

"Hey, little man! Happy birthday!"

Oh, I seriously fucking did.

There was no mistaking that husky voice anywhere.

Just before I could turn around and see if I was hallucinating or if I'd stayed under the water a little too long and actually died, a freezing cold splash of water came crashing into me.

"Ha! I foiled your plot, Sierra!" Zack cackled.

"Yup, you sure did!" I rasped, deflated and struggled to hide the coughs stuck in my throat.

I pinned a sunny smile on my lips and turned around. Please let this be a hallucination. If I saw his face, those eyes, I wouldn't be sure if I could take it. But sure enough, as I began to tread water, there he was. Golden skin from California and those deep blue eyes twinkling with something I had seen so many times. I'd seen the twinkle during our first game of 20 Questions down at The Communion. I'd seen the twinkle the first time he'd said he loved me. I'd seen it every day until he left three weeks ago. Like it was the first time, a flush of red drowned out my freckles. His head dipped, a small smile creeping up on his lips. We didn't say anything to each other for a few seconds. My smile collapsed as the need to cry strangled me. Mom paddled over, placing a supportive hand on the small of my back. Billy opened his mouth to say something when Zack suddenly leapt out of the pool and began hugging his thighs. All the Poolside Mom's muttered under their breath, exchanging bewildered glances, and continued to perfect whatever image they were wishing to attain. This was who had driven them to become so flustered. But no one had Billy's attention but Zack. There was no competition here. My stomach swooped. He was still the guy who microwaved Zack's milk of a night,, the guy who took on the responsibility of knowing Zack came part of the package. Had he ever truly left? Memories of that night seeped into my mind. He'd made his choice, and I really couldn't blame him. But, why was he back?

"Billy, how was California? Was it sunny? Did you bring us anything back?" Zack then gasped and began excitedly pointing at the sky. "You brought back the weather for us!"

"Of course, little man. 'Needed to get you some for your birthday!" Billy chuckled. I was looking away. It was no use. I could feel his eyes roaming all over me.

As Mom climbed out to join Zack, I waded over to the ladder. The cool water that had enveloped my body dried instantly as I joined the rest of the crowd in the balmy heat. I was still shivering. But it wasn't from the sudden change in temperature. I was still healing from the night Billy and I broke up. The pain I'd felt losing him was so physical. I felt it in every pore, every little crevice where he had been. I felt it every time a smile crept on my lips when his face flashed in my mind. I felt it pretty much all the time. As my foot was about to gravitate to the final step, a bronzed hand entered my field of vision. I needn't look up to see who it was. I studied his hand briefly. The space between his thumb and finger was cracked. Pale lines curved on his palm, interweaving with one another. There were the smallest stains of tobacco on one nail bed. I took his hand. Like I was a light china doll, Billy helped me out with such tenderness, it was like he'd thought I'd shatter into a million pieces. I allowed myself to teeter on my tiptoes for a second, feeling his fingers compress around mine as he steadied me.

I was dizzy. Dizzy from figuring out this was real. Dizzy from him. Dizzy from myself. Initially, I focused on the floor. Then I saw the silhouette of Mom and Zack in my peripheral. Mom was hanging around to see if I needed her. Nancy was glaring at Billy. I shook my head. We didn't need to cause a scene. I'd told her I got why he left in the first place. However, Nancy had a hundred different reasons why I shouldn't be okay with what had happened. Honestly, I wasn't okay with what had happened. I'd lost Billy. The mask won. It had finally fucking won. I still prayed every night Neil Hargrove would turn up in a ditch one day for what he did to his son.

"Robert has ice cream for you, I think" I called to Mom who nodded and distracted Zack. Nancy wasn't budging though. "I'll be over in a moment" Finally, with Moms encouragement, Nancy started to leave with them.

I inhaled deeply. I couldn't avoid his gaze forever. Wordlessly, we walked to the other side of the pool where two sun loungers were available. We waited for each other to sit down. I sat down. He then sat down. I lifted my head. Suddenly, it was like time hit pause. Everything came to a standstill. We were the only ones here. The pain, the tears, they were gone. Everything that happened - gone. It was me, it was him, it was us. Like it had been. It had been. Us. It was gone. And yet, we were right here. But where had he been? Where had he been? The answer? Gone. So, so far away and gone.

"Hey" I breathed and cleared my throat, eradicating the overwhelming desire to let the tears flow free.

"Hey" he said, smiling.

It wasn't a grin. It wasn't the infamous smirk. This was a smile with a thousand words. Unwanted butterflies fled into the pits of my stomach. Three weeks of dreaming of his return, three weeks of smelling the red shirt, pressing it to my nose, so I could fall asleep with him, three weeks of nothing, and all we had to say was hey. I couldn't fucking believe it.

As Billy quickly inspected the pool, I studied his profile. Light ripples reflected onto his face, allowing the few tiny moles on his face to stand out. Should we find ourselves in the peace only underwater could gift us? Could we go back there? Could we get back to where we were? Hell, did he even want to? Did I? All I knew was having him here, physically in front of me, made me want to dive into the water and never come out again. To find the peace, to have him join me there, or to avoid the inevitable heartache coming my way.

"I have a birthday card for Zack. I hope that's okay" he said and massaged the back of his neck, averting his eyes from me. Why was he doing that? It was him who'd come over to me. Was I making him uncomfortable?

"Yeah, that's fine" I quietly replied. "Thanks for getting him one. It'll mean a lot to him"

It meant a lot to me. Billy had spent so many nights playing with Zack out in the garden, teaching him how to shoot hoops, making the kid release laughs that were so carefree. I didn't doubt he'd enjoyed spending time with Zack and I never once second-guessed whether his care for him was a pretense. No, Hargrove gave a shit about this kid. I was stuck in a crossroads. I understood why he left, I completely fucking got it because I wanted to do the exact same. The only difference between our wish to finally run was being tied to a small kid. Sure, Billy had Max. But Max was a different ball game. She was older was the major factor. I didn't want Billy to experience anymore pain at the hands of Neil. He never once deserved it. I didn't want him to feel guilty for Neil hurting me. It wasn't his fault. Everything came back to Neil.

We stood peering down at each other's feet for a few more moments. I wanted to say so much to him. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and burrow my head in the crook of his neck. I wanted to pretend his face didn't haunt me. I wanted to pretend that I didn't love him. I wanted to leave.

"I tried to call you" Billy finally said, breaking the silence.

"Did you?" I asked. My brows knitted together in confusion or frustration. I couldn't tell which one. Perhaps it was both.

"Yeah, a lot of times, actually" Billy said, slightly chuckling and ran a hand through his curls.

I watched each movement. Watching his hand glide through those golden tresses, his eyes flitting from mine to the floor, the small tapping of his toes, made me want to do nothing other than cry. I could feel it there, stuck in my throat like a serrated rock.

"Oh. I didn't know" I replied, the croak in my throat clear as day. I twisted a little to reach from something invisible behind my back and allowed the first and final tear to fall.

"Sierra..."

He'd said my name. For the first time in weeks. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity. How many times had he ever said my name? It was always Princess, baby, darlin', Nightingale.

"Nice to meet you… Sierra" I'd gone weak at the knees, those damn butterflies getting dizzy at the sound of his gravelly voice.

"Sierra - please. Come with me" I so badly wanted to. He'd been pleading. I'd shook my head.

"Forget about us, Sierra" And, then, he ended it. It was over.

It was still over.

Gingerly, his fingers brushed against my leg.

I stood up.

"I can't do this right now"

"I wanted to say I was sorry" he rasped, as if he'd never anticipated the words leaving his mind.

"I am too, Billy" I turned away, wiping away stray teardrops as they glided down my cheeks. "I'll call you"

Would I though? Would I have the guts to call him and tell him everything I felt, wait for him to tell me the same?

"I don't live at Neils anymore" he said.

I still had my back turned. I couldn't see him.

"I've got my own place. Just above Melvald's"

"Congratulations"

I started walking away. Footsteps followed me. I had no idea where I was going. I was happy for him. Truly, I was. But right now, I was coming across like the coldest bitch on the Earth. If I kept giving him one word answers, I wouldn't have to look at him. I wouldn't start crying. I wouldn't remind myself of how much love I had for him. To my downfall, I didn't need the reminder. I could feel how much love I had for him everywhere. Where he'd touched me, where he'd looked at me.

"Sierra, just hold one a minute" Billy said, imploring.

He'd caught my hand.

I spun around.

My eyes locked onto his.

He wasn't letting go of my hand.

And I wasn't letting him either.

We weren't letting each other go.

And that was exactly what the problem was.

"I still need to give Zack his card" He was searching my face. He was trying to find the source of light where I had hope, had care, had love. My love, my care, my desire, was everywhere. But, thick ice had formed, freezing whatever he could fish out. "You're right. This isn't the right place to talk about anything. But look, I'm back. I don't want to leave things how they were that night. You deserve more than that"

And so did he. He really did. He deserved so much more than what this world had already offered him. My eyes were so close to softening. I was delirious with love for him. But, his voice echoed in my mind. The rage, the sheer anger…

"Get the fuck out!"

I jolted awake and inhaled sharply. I removed my hand from his. Billy Hargrove didn't deserve to be hurt all over again.

And neither did I.

"Have a good shift, Billy"

In an almost robotic motion, I turned around. I set my sights on the changing rooms and headed straight for them, not once looking back. The darkness suddenly enveloped me as I entered the small, damp area. I went into a changing cubicle and shut the door behind me, locking it. Once I knew I was alone, I buried my head in my hands and freed the low sob that had been stifled in my throat since my eyes landed on Billy. On and on, twirling like the tendrils of smoke from a cigarette, Billy's voice in all its forms, with all his masks, wouldn't leave my mind.

"Get the fuck out!"

"I could make you so happy down there, Princess"

"Forget about us, Sierra"

"I said, you're the love of my life my life, Nightingale"

I mouthed the words, "You're the love of my life, Hargrove", my only witness being the empty walls. How did " I love you" so quickly change to " Get the fuck out?". How could we go from laughing so hard we couldn't get rid of the spams in our stomachs to not being able to even look each in the eye? Our silence was so loud. Our words were so quiet. "Hey" meant "I missed you so fucking much". "Have a good shift, Billy" meant "I need to walk away or I'll fall for you all over again". All my words were so lost in translation, so lost in what I wanted to say and how I wanted him to see me.

I heard Pepsi shout Billy's name. Her lilted, shrill voice was elated. I heard footsteps come closer. Knuckles rapped at the door.

"Sierra, do you wanna come out?"

It was Nancy.

Slowly, as if I was blinded by vertigo, I slid off the seat and fell out of the door. My bleary eyes, stained by sadness, met Nancy's. Immediately, she brought me in for a hug. Lightly, she brushed her hand, up and down, up and down, my spine as it contorted from the wracking sobs I was exorcizing.

"He shouldn't have done that" Nancy whispered.

"Mmhmm" I murmured, my voice cracking and high. "He has to work though, Nance"

"I don't care, Sierra. He shouldn't have come up to you like that" Nancy said, continuing to envelope me in this tranquil trance. I was calming down, breathing better. "Like, surely he must have known you weren't going to fall into his arms and pretend everything was okay?"

"But, Nance, I… I kinda want to do that" I sniffed and rose my head. "Nancy, for weeks I've been hoping I'd find my way back to him or he'd find his way back to me and now it's happened, I can't say anything to him. I want to pull him to me and I want to throttle him. I wanted to kiss him and I wanted to scream in his face. All at the same time, and I just…" Any words I had planned to say faltered, surrendering to a mere squeak. Nancy tugged me in for a hug again. "It hurts, Nancy"

"I know it does, Sierra-Bear" Nancy soothingly whispered. She hadn't called me that in years. A third grade nickname now said in a hushed voice to an adult. I wondered if Nancy ever thought of calling me that when we were fighting demodogs or when my Dad came back. I wondered if she'd ever been tempted to say in a kind word or as a casual hello. "What do you want to do right now?"

I came out from my hiding place under her newly cut short hair and wiped away at my eyes. The tears stung, but the pulsating headache underneath my eyes hurt the most. No scrap that, seeing Hargrove, knowing we still shared something for one another and both faltered to say it, that was fucking excruciating.

"I can't leave. Zack will get confused" I sighed and cast my view over to the sinks. I walked over and filled my hands with icy water like a cup, splashing it over my face. "Should I talk to Billy?"

"Do you want to?" Nancy asked.

"Eventually, but not here" I paused for a moment, assessing what damage control I had to do to my face. It wasn't too bad. The scarlet trails down my face weren't so alarming now I'd given them a good seeing to. "I don't blame him for what he did. It's just how he did it. If he'd just given me time to speak, to help calm him down" I paused and sighed. The past was irreversible. It didn't matter how many times I repeated the same sentence, lamenting over what I wished he would have done wasn't going to change a thing. Billy did what he did and there was nothing I could do both in the past or present. "I don't want him to be hurt, but I just don't know what to say to him right now. I don't know whether he just wants to apologize and draw a line under us or if he wants to be friends or if he wants me back. All I know is that night, when he shouted for me to get out and made me walk back, it was the first time he'd scared me. I don't know whether he was showing his true colors or whether it was because he was scared of himself too"

During that fight, I wanted to say, "Billy, hello? Can you hear me?" because he was so blinded by the panic, the anger, the need to protect me. He didn't get, couldn't comprehend, that the protection was mutual. I was there for him just as much as he was for me. But, Neil had lacerated him with his claws time and time again, one time too many, that it rendered Billy deaf to any sense I'd tried to talk into him. He was just a kid trying to get out. He needed to be the kid riding the 7 foot wave again. He needed to find home, far away from the person who was keeping him chained. He was lost and desperate to be found. I couldn't scoop him up like a baby and cradle him. I couldn't for the life of me tell him everything was going to be okay, whether we went to California or not, because in his mind, if we didn't get out there and then, it would be never.

I shook my head, my damp curls sticking to my face. Nancy motioned to speak, to pacify me with words we both knew wouldn't touch me at all. The only words that would, would be coming from Billy. But they would have to be the right words, and I didn't know if he even had them.

"Are we still on for Hagan's party tomorrow?" I needed a change of subject.

"You, Pepsi, Harrington and I, right?" Nancy inquired, stumbling on this quick change.

Billy wanted to talk. We needed to. I didn't want him out of my life. There was too much love there, too much care.

"Give me a second"

Nancy's brow arched in bewilderment. I walked out into the sunshine, walking to Harrington who was doing some weird sword fight with Henderson. I was too determined in my path to be distracted and before they could get any questions in, I opened my mouth.

"Do you have any more strawberry left, Harrington?" I asked.

"Uh, well, hello to you as well, Nightingale! Long time no goddamn see!" Henderson exclaimed with this dramatic accusatory tone.

"Hey, Henderson '' I said. Harrington wordlessly passed me a cone with two perfectly round scoops of bright pink strawberry ice cream on top, a quizzical look on his face. "Bye, Henderson"

"Oh! I see how it is!" Henderson shouted, but I heard the crack of Harrington slapping his arm followed by a high pitch, affronted screech.

I would have laughed, but I was too focused on my aim. Billy was sauntering away from Shiela and Bryony Hamilton, ripping off the mask of the charmer, the smirk abdicating to something more true to life. His eyes cast downwards, sorrow filling in them.

"Hargrove" I called as I strode towards him.

His head snapped up and he attempted a smile. We met halfway, stopping just before his post. It took every ounce inside me to muster up the confidence to look him dead in those blue eyes that had made me swoon for months. But, I did it, and I did it fearlessly. Billy gazed, dumbstruck, at the ice cream I'd thrust into his hands.

"There's a party at Hagan's tomorrow. Are you going?" I asked.

His eyes fluttered to meet mine. That lopsided smile crept up on his lips. Amused, he let out a husky chuckle.

"What game are you playing, Nightingale?" he inquired, his tongue leisurely gliding across the ice cream. Don't be the fucking charmer right now, Hargrove. That wasn't who I fell for. That isn't who I want to talk to right now.

"No games, Hargrove. I'm asking you a simple question" I stated and crossed my arms.

"Yeah, I'm going" he answered, biting the inside of his lip.

I peered down to his hands, a thrill rushing up my spine and spreading, like a hot flush, everywhere. Veins protruded from them, disappearing as the cone crunched in his grasp. I searched his face for something, someone, beyond the charmer. He was intrigued. More importantly, he was ecstatic. He was trying to maintain some semblance of cool, but there was no mistaking the twinkle in his eyes.

"Good, I need a ride" I paused. I subconsciously tilted my head like a curious dog. Hargrove was right to ask what game I was playing. Quite honestly, I wasn't sure myself. All I knew was, this game of ours was far from over. "Seven o'clock"

His fingers teasingly tangled in the cord of his whistle. The amusement hadn't faded from his features. Billy bit his lip again, placing his hands on his waist and let out the gravelly chuckle he usually had when he knew I was up to something. He knew I was going to think all night about what to say to him. He knew the rules, the boundaries, how to win. He'd played so many times before. But this time, he was playing by my rules. Or was I playing to his?

"Seven it is then, Nightingale" he confirmed.

We paused for a second. Then, in perfect synchronization, like it had been almost orchestrated, our lips lifted in an earnest smile.

"It's nice to see you're okay, Billy," I concluded and turned to walk away.

I'd been too cold earlier on. I'd been too unmoving to not reveal that I still loved him. It would take time for me to trust him again, for me to heal. But, a peace offering of an ice cream was the best I could give to make him know I didn't hate him. Before I could walk back to the others, Billy said my name again. I stopped in my tracks, turning my head. He was smiling, a shy rush of red replacing the bronze blessed upon him by the Californian sun he'd run to.

"Thank you" he said, the gratitude clear as day.

I nodded in recognition of his words. I wanted to squeeze his hand, our little message to one another. But I wasn't ready for that. I didn't know if he ever wanted that again after everything. I turned back around and made my way over to the ice cream shack where everyone was gawping at me.

"So, what did you say? Are you back together?" Pepsi hurriedly interrogated.

"He's going to have to do a lot more than show up for that to happen" I replied, much to Pepsi's dismay. She pouted at me and groaned into her hands. "What?"

"It's so clear he still loves you, man!" Pepsi whined. Shit, she even stomped her foot a little. "Ugh, I just… okay, let me get this out here. You two are so damn perfect for each other. We know you still love him. We definitely know he still loves you. Soooo, why can't you admit you both fucked up and get back together?"

"It's not as simple as that, Peps, alright? Yes, we both fucked up. I should've just realized he was angry at the situation and sat downstairs. Because he wasn't the only one who left. I left too" I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "I don't want to be angry at him"

"It's okay if you are, Sierra" Nancy reassured.

"Yeah, but he did it for a reason, Nance. He needed to realize home wasn't in California for himself" Harrington said defensively. Nancy was about to say something when Harrington interjected. "Sure, what he did was shit. But he's come to his senses. He knows Hawkins is his home now" Harrington paused and let out a plume of air from his pursed lips. "He's come back for you, Sierra. He's come back because he's realized he was wrong"

"He's going to Hagan's tomorrow. We need to talk this out first before anything. But right now, it's Zack's day. It's not my day, Billy's day or anyone else's. So, let's just move on until tomorrow" I concluded.

"Well, if we're swiftly moving on…" Harrington muttered conspiratorially. He started taking off his top.

"Er, what the fuck are you doing, Harrington?" I asked, raising my brow.

"Oh, not much…" he drawled as he came out from behind the ice cream shack. I hadn't realized he was wearing swimming shorts. Why was he wearing those when he was working? And what was with the water pistol? Wait a minute… "...I'm just gonna soak you! Henderson, now!"

Henderson jumped up and cackled manically, brandishing his water pistol like a member of the Italian mafia and aiming perfectly. Nancy, Pepsi and I all glanced at each other, wordlessly scheming our plan.

"Say hello to my little friend!" Henderson yelled.

"To the pool!" Pepsi ordered.

In chaotic harmony, we all dive bombed into the pool and started hectically splashing Henderson and Harrington who were still on land.

"Oh shit, abort, abort!" Henderson shouted, spluttering on the immense amount of water we were sending his way.

"Never!" Harrington cried and jumped into the pool with us. Wrong move! We were totally going to make him lose. "Oh shit, you were right!"

"Hey, Dusty-Bun, whatcha doing up there?" Pepsi shouted through Harrington's screams.

"Dusty-Bun?" I spluttered laughing.

"Ohhhh, someone has a girlfriend now!" Pepsi revealed, winking at a proud-faced Henderson.

"That's her nickname for me" Henderson said, blushing away like something chronic. "Anyway, now you're all distracted, it's time for you all to die!" Henderson aimed his water pistol menacingly at us.

We all rolled our eyes and lazily braced ourselves for the inevitable just so he could have his moment. Suddenly, a little cough came from behind us and Henderson's face virtually dropped to the ground. We twisted our heads around to find Zack, Mom and Robert posed like superheroes, water pistols poised and ready. I quickly found Marigold with Mrs Wheeler on the sunbed, watching us.

"Actually, Henderson, I think you'll find it's your time to die!" Zack perfectly mimicked Henderson with the manic cackle. Ugh, I loved this kid.

Without warning, jets of water shot across us. We all were caught in a crossfire and Zack wasn't letting up anytime soon! When I had a moment to open my eyes, I saw Mom aiming for me! It was an all out war! Henderson was screaming for mercy. Zack kept on shooting, the laugh from him borderline demonic.

All of a sudden, the pierce of a whistle penetrated the air! Everyone stood still.

"Henderson!" Billy shouted from his post. "No running on my watch!" Then, his face softened and he peered over at us. "Give him hell, Zack!"

In slow motion, Zack and Dustin locked onto one another. Dustin's eyes ones were of terror. Zack's were ones that were set on glory, crinkling as a wide, devious smile grew on his lips. Before Dustin could even move so much as move, Zack was dousing the poor guy. Harrington, Pepsi and Nancy were all having their own battles. Okay, mainly Harrington and Nancy. Pepsi was just there to watch on amusedly and take in the scenery, and be everyone's favorite cheerleader.

"Ohhh, you're a traitor, Hargrove!" Dustin complained dramatically, doing an awkward walk like one of the Poolside Moms on their afternoon power walk. "I can't believe you'd do this to me!"

"Don't care, Henderson" Billy leisurely called and winked at me.

Before I could feel the red spread like wildfire in my cheeks, I started splashing Mom. I was too busy with this to see whether Dustin won or lost. But, from the wired giggles I could hear flee from Zack's mouth, he was probably losing.

"Oh God, okay, okay, I surrender!" I rasped.

"Does that mean we're declared the winners?" Mom teasingly asked, winking at Robert.

"Ugh, you have a Texan on your side!" I complained, wiping at my eyes.

"I think that means we're the winners, honey" Robert chuckled.

"Mighty fine day to be a winner, Robert!" I joked in an extremely awful impersonation. Shit, I sounded like I had cotton buds stuck up my nose. Note to self: never attempt a Texan accent ever again.

Robert threw his head back and let out a howl of laughter.

"Mighty fine day indeed, Sierra!" he laughed and threw an arm over me, bringing me in for a side embrace. "We'll have you singing Miss Dolly Parton herself head to toe in rhinestones before you know it!"

"Dolly Parton's from Tennessee, Bobby" Mom said, giving him a playful nudge. It was so nice to see her happy.

"Well, that only calls for one thing then" Robert murmured and winked at me. Suddenly, he'd managed to disarm Mom and had thrown me the water pistol! "Show your Momma what you're made of, Sierra!"

10 minutes later and we had an extremely soaked Mom who'd surrendered to fits of giggles long before she gave up the fight. As the evening came to an end, we all got dried and dressed, and prepared ourselves to head back home. Everyone else had left when it was just Robert and I tidying up, wrapping up the last few bits of birthday cake. I'd brought a black playsuit and a light, ecru cardigan with me to wear after the party. The idea of getting into work clothes again just made me feel sour and depressed. Robert was humming away to Islands In The Stream when he unexpectedly stopped.

"So, what's with you and the lifeguard?" he whispered, cautiously looking around.

"Oh, we, er, we dated for a little while" I quietly replied, busying myself with picking up balloons. Billy had gone inside a while ago. We'd not spoken since I'd given him an ice cream.

"Well, if there's one thing I know to be true, I know the look he was giving you was one of love" he replied. Robert reached over the table where I'd decided to start putting away ice cream scoopers into a tupperware box and clasped onto my shoulder. "And it's one that says he's sorry for whatever he did"

"Did Mom tell you?" I asked and averted my gaze to my hands, putting away the scoopers faster than a production line.

"She didn't need to, honey" he said. His tone of voice was one I'd not really heard from anyone other than Grandpa. It was hushed, reassuring… paternal. It was foreign to me. But, I liked it. I heeded it. I peered up, beckoning him to say more. My insides felt like melting butter. "You need to do whatever feels right for you, Sierra. Don't let anyone make you feel anything different"

I'm not sure what possessed me, but I dropped the tupperware and went over to him. Suddenly, my arms were around his waist and I was hugging him tightly. To my own surprise, he returned the embrace - tightly, lovingly. Like a father.

"Thanks, Robert" I murmured, my cheek pressed up against his chest.

"Naw, what're you thanking me for?" he chuckled. "I'm just an ol' Texan buffoon who knows a thing or two! Now," He outstretched his arms, holding me in view of him "let's get us home, alright?"

After Mom had come out of the changing rooms with a dried, dressed and dozy Zack hanging from one of her hips like a sleeping sloth and Marigold sucking her thumb asleep on the other, we made our way over to Robert's car. Of course, as nature nearly always intended in its eerie, bittersweet and miraculous ways, Billy's Camaro was parked right next to it. And, of course, he was leaving the same time as we were. He was dressed in his light gray sweatpants and a thin, loose white tank top that showed off his sculpted chest, shimmering from how much sunblock he'd lathered over himself. I thought about all the times I'd laid my head there to rest and breezed into a deep, peaceful slumber. The lump in my throat silently began to choke me again. We caught onto each other's eyes and smiled politely, if not awkwardly. It was like we were both each other's secret high school crush all over again. A world, a past, away from the heartache we'd gone through. This was such a weird feeling - friendly yet furious, caring yet bitter, lovers yet strangers. The feelings were sending every thought I'd conjured up into messy scribbles. Nothing right now made sense.

"I hope Zack had a good day" Billy said quietly, giving Zack a small wave as his eyes barely drifted open for a second. Zack sleepily returned it before succumbing to the snores. He chuckled and stood next to his car as if contemplating whether to go now or stay. I looked to see if Max was in the back. No sign of her, so I was guessing she'd gone with the other kids. "So, seven tomorrow?"

"Yeah, if you're okay with that" I replied.

"'Course. I am if you are" he answered, almost sheepishly.

"I'm sure, Billy" I responded confidently. I was sure. I needed to speak to him. I needed to find out what we were, just what went through his head the last time we saw each other. We searched each other's faces again, the both of us foraging for the hidden messages in our words. They were clear as day, as physical as when we'd squeeze each other's hands, yet obscured by the confusion, the mixed emotions. "I'll meet you at the statue in the town square"

"Yeah, cool" Billy said, suave on the exterior, but that lopsided smile told me there was some excitement bubbling beneath the surface. "Great. I'll, er, I'll catch you then, Nightingale"

"See you then, Hargrove" I returned warmly and got into the car.

The car reversed and as we started towards the road, I took one final glance at Billy. He was sat in his car, a shit-eating grin on his lips. Maybe, that was all that was needed to be said. Once we were close to the apartment Mom was staying in just outside of Hawkins, Robert and Mom flashed me a knowing look.

"What?" I asked, supposedly dumbfounded.

"Told you I was right" Robert said, almost smugly.

I shrugged and went back to gazing out of the window, watching the lines of stores disappear. No matter how conflicted I was on the inside, there was no denying the thought made my stomach skip for joy and the butterflies go haywire.

Billy Hargrove still loved me.

I still loved him.

More than I wanted to.