The first thing Max registered when she woke up was that she felt like death. Her head was pounding and she was certain she'd throw up if she moved a single inch. She hadn't opened her eyes yet but she could tell it was already bright in the room, the morning sunlight glowing red through her eyelids.

The next thing she registered was that the sheets that she had wrapped around herself smelled like laundry detergent—the expensive kind that came in scents like Jasmine Rain or Lavender Breeze.

Max used every ounce of available energy to roll her body over, cocooning herself in the cozy flannel comforter.

She cracked her eyelids open and squinted at the sun slanting in through the blinds, causing the dust motes suspended in the air to sparkle. Her eyes took in bright blue walls covered in sci-fi and fantasy posters, shelves filled with books and figurines, and trophies that were almost certainly not for sporting achievements.

Mike's room… and she was in Mike's bed.

Max cringed as memories of the previous night flooded back to her. She remembered passing a joint around with those juniors and then getting called over by Rachel, who introduced her to an attractive senior with a mohawk—Bryce, she wanted to say his name was. And then she remembered drinking more. A lot more. Her red cup seemed to magically refill itself every time she looked down. He'd whispered in her ear, his breath hot and smelling like clove cigarettes as he told her how hot she was, how he wanted to push her up against a tree and show her his tongue piercing.

She honestly wouldn't have minded just making out with him a little, but he'd made it abundantly clear he wasn't interested in stopping there.

Things got blurry after that, memories coming in flashes, like slides on a projector. A hand roughly grabbing her forearm, cold beer spilling down her shirt, Mike's stern voice that she'd never heard him use before. The last thing Max remembered was army crawling over the roof, tumbling headfirst through the window, and then nothing but the black emptiness of a dreamless sleep. Well, that was fucking embarrassing, she thought to herself, resolving to stick mostly with pot in the future.

She sighed and lifted her head up. The clock on the nightstand told her it was almost ten in the morning but she still felt bone-tired.

Dropping her head back down to the pillow her thoughts wandered back to how Mike had defended her and told the handsy guy to fuck off. Max would probably have to surrender her feminist card for thinking this but it had felt… nice to have someone standing up for her. She knew she could usually handle herself but considering the state she'd been in she felt lucky she'd had Mike there looking out for her.

She inched over to the edge of the mattress and peered down at where he was sprawled out on the carpeted floor, some sort of crocheted throw blanket barely covering his long limbs.

It'd been kind of a trip seeing Mike so aggressive for once considering he usually avoided confrontation at all costs. Max couldn't help but smile to herself. He'd been a really good friend to her last night. Her smile faded and she shuddered, not even wanting to think about what would have happened if that guy had gotten her alone.

She let her eyes roam over Mike's sleeping form. His wavy black hair spread over the light blue pillowcase, his arm was thrown over his eyes, shielding them from the light streaming in through the window, and his lips were slightly parted. They were so pink against his pale skin. They looked… soft.

Wait, what?

Her eyes flew wide open and she jerked her head back in confusion. Jesus Christ, don't think about Mike's lips, you weirdo. She had no idea where that thought had come from… Just then, Mike groaned quietly in his sleep, pulling her from her thoughts as he shifted under the blanket and started to wake up.

Max quickly rolled onto her back so he wouldn't catch her staring at him, her heart suddenly stuttering in her chest.

"Hey," he murmured from the floor, his voice rough with sleep. It made a jolt of something zap right through her. Stop. "Shit, I feel like I've been bodyslammed by a demodog… why did we drink that much?" Max looked back over at him as he propped himself up on his elbow and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"Because we were being stupid teenagers?" she smirked. Mike huffed out a laugh as he stood and stretched his arms overhead, the hem of his black t-shirt riding up as he arched his back. Max's eyes zeroed in on his hip bones and the dangerously low waistband of his boxers and she felt her mouth go dry. Oh no. Oh shit. What was happening to her?

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he dropped his arms, and Max quickly flicked her eyes back up to his.

"Like I got run over by a tractor," she grumbled, sitting herself up against the metal frame of his headboard. "Did we… ride in the back of a pickup truck last night?"

Mike chuckled and nodded his head. "I had to trade our last doobie for a ride because there's no way we were biking home." Max frowned at the loss of a perfectly good joint but figured it was a fair trade for not having to sleep in a cornfield.

He walked over to his door and opened it just a crack, listening for a few seconds before closing it again silently.

"My parents are up," he whispered as he turned back to face her. "They're both in the kitchen so you can't climb out the window because they'd hear you on the roof." He pulled a pair of grey sweatpants out of his dresser and stepped into them. "I'm gonna have to sneak you out. Wait here while I scope out the situation." He stepped out the door and tip-toed out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Max dragged her hand over her face, not looking forward to having to sneak through his house like she was in some kind of heist movie while in her horrendously hungover state.

She threw back the covers and walked over to the corner where she'd apparently tossed her clothes last night, and for the first time, she looked down and realized she wasn't wearing her own shirt. She appeared to be wearing a large men's t-shirt with some sort of logo on it, she thought it might have been for a basketball team.

Max felt her cheeks start burning as she concluded it must be Mike's shirt that he'd loaned to her last night to sleep in. And she had no idea how to feel about the fact that she'd slept in Mike Wheeler's bed in nothing but Mike Wheeler's t-shirt and her underwear.

Deciding to firmly push that train of thought into the back of her mind, she reached down and picked up her own clothes, wrinkling her nose when she realized the tank top, bra, and flannel were still damp and smelled like a bottle depot—the scent of stale beer causing a wave of nausea to roll over her. Mike will just have to get his shirt back later, she shrugged as she pulled on her jeans and stuffed her other things in her backpack.

After catching a glimpse of her frighteningly dishevelled state in the mirror on the closet door she felt around in her bag for a spare scrunchie and pulled one out, tying her tangled hair back in a low ponytail. A few seconds later Mike knocked softly on the door, announcing his presence before slipping back into the room.

"Okay, so full disclosure, I just puked my guts out in the bathroom, but before that, I lurked at the top of the stairs and determined that my dad's sitting at the table and my mom's washing dishes," he started, keeping his voice low. "So the plan is, I'll go down first and distract them. Once you hear me open the fridge it means the coast is clear and then you just haul ass through the living room and out the front door, okay? Watch the second step, it creaks. I'll give them some excuse like that I'm late for hanging out with Dustin and meet you out by the car. Ready?"

It took a few seconds for her exhausted brain to absorb his words, but when she did she nodded slowly, praying they could pull this off and Mike wouldn't have to explain why a girl was sneaking out of his room wearing his clothes. He gave her a decisive nod in return, holding out his hand for a low-five which she hesitantly returned, their palms connecting with a satisfying clap. She felt her hand tingling after they parted, staring after him as he opened the door and motioned for her to follow.

He was being so… decisive and confident. It was a good look on him. A really good look… No! Focus, Mayfield, she scolded herself, banishing her concerning thoughts once again.

They padded down the hallway in their socks, Max carrying her shoes in her hand. Mike had gently dropped her backpack out the bathroom window so she wouldn't have to worry about it making any rustling or jangling sounds while she snuck out. The hallway was lined with portraits and snapshots of the Wheeler family throughout the years, and Max studied them as she passed by, wondering what it was like to have two functioning parents. So this is what a real family looks like, huh?

She couldn't help but give Mike a tap on the shoulder and silently point at a picture of him when he was probably three years old, naked and sitting in a bubble bath, rubber ducky clutched in his tiny hands. "Cute," she mouthed as she gave him a teasing grin. He rolled his eyes and held his middle finger up behind his back as he continued down the hallway, making her giggle silently.

When they reached the top of the stairs Mike held his hand up, letting her know to wait. He looked back and gave her a silent nod, taking a deep breath before plastering a fake grin on his face and noisily descending the stairs.

"Good morning!" he announced in a loud and overly cheerful voice as he reached the lower level. Max slowly moved to stand on the top step, leaning over so she could hear better, her stomach flipping with both anxiety and nausea.

"Morning, honey," she heard Karen reply. "How was the big game?"

"Oh great, we uh, won?" Mike replied, not truly knowing if that had been the case.

"That's wonderful, Lucas must have been so happy."

"Um yeah, he was. What uh, what time did you guys get home last night?" Mike's voice grew fainter as though he'd moved further into the kitchen.

"Oh, it was almost midnight," Max heard his mom reply over the clattering of dishes being stacked. "Your door was closed so we figured you were asleep. Did you hear your dad and Nancy leaving for the airport this morning?"

"Um, nope I was sleeping pretty soundly… How was the traffic at the airport, Dad?"

"A goddamned circus like I knew it was going to be," a deep male voice grumbled in reply, sounding like it was closer to the stairs than the others.

"Oh no, good thing you left early then… Hey, do we have any uh… chocolate milk?" she heard Mike ask, followed by the telltale sound of the refrigerator being opened. That was her cue. She held her breath as she tiptoed down the carpeted stairs, pausing at the landing to make sure the Wheelers were looking at their son before continuing her descent, silently hopping over the second last step and dashing towards the living room.

Her heart dropped and she froze in her tracks when her eyes landed on Holly sitting cross-legged on the couch directly in front of her, and Max was certain she was busted. But the young girl just kept her eyes glued to the costumed characters singing on the television, completely oblivious to the stranger standing right next to her. Man, maybe TV really is rotting children's brains, Max thought as she slowly resumed her journey to the front door, heart pounding wildly in her chest.

She could hear Mike continue to occupy his parents with mundane questions in the kitchen as she finally reached the door. She turned the doorknob slowly and it opened with a soft click, allowing her to slip outside before gently closing it behind her.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Max quickly slipped her Vans on and jogged over to the wood-panelled station wagon, making sure she was out of view of the living room window just in case.

She walked to the end of the driveway and surveyed the idyllic suburban neighbourhood, listening to the birds chirping and the sound of children playing somewhere in the background. The day was becoming overcast, the sunshine of earlier disappearing behind rapidly gathering clouds. Even so, Max shielded her eyes from the brightness of the daylight, a hangover headache throbbing painfully behind her eye sockets.

A minute later Mike emerged from the house, keys in hand. He dashed over to the flowerbed beneath the bathroom window and snatched up her backpack before fast walking over to the car.

"All this sneaking around reminds me of the shit we used to get into with the party," he said, tossing her the backpack and unlocking the car.

"Yeah but with much lower stakes," she deadpanned as she opened the door and slid into the faux leather seat.

Mike chuckled as he turned the key in the ignition, and the engine sputtered to life. "Thank god for that."

Max fiddled with the radio dial as they pulled out of the driveway, eventually landing on the local rock station before leaning her head against the window and letting her tired eyes fall closed.

Several minutes later, a song they both recognized came on and she opened her eyes, looking over to see Mike nodding his head and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to the catchy beat. God, his hands are big- NO. Stop it, she chastised herself, looking away again. He is your annoying friend Mike. Not some dreamboat that makes your heart race. Your favourite pastime is being a pain in his ass. As if to prove it to herself, she turned down the volume of the radio as they turned onto Kerley Drive.

"So," she started seriously, "should we talk about the elephant in the room?"

Mike shot her a confused glance before looking back at the road. "What..?"

Max turned her head towards him, trying to keep her lips from twitching into a smile. "How the hell did your dad bag your mom?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"I mean your mom's fuckin' hot," she said with a shit-eating grin, laughing as Mike threw his head back against the headrest.

"Oh god," he groaned. "Not you too."

"Sorry Mike, but Karen's got it going on," Max teased. He rolled his eyes.

"You know w-woah," he cut himself off suddenly, reaching over and turning down the radio even further. "What's with all the cop cars?" Max looked up sharply and saw what looked to be the entirety of the Hawkins police department pulled into the trailer park, lights flashing red and blue. She felt her stomach drop when she realized where they were parked.

"Oh my god," she breathed, covering her eyes and turning away, instantly fearing the worst. "Please just tell me if it's my place, I can't look." There was a pause as Mike slowed down to a crawl and craned his neck.

"It's… It's not your place," he said quickly. Max let out a relieved but shaky breath. "It's the one across the street." She looked up and saw the cops were indeed gathered around the Munson trailer, several officers milling about and chatting with residents.

"You'd better let me out here," she said when they pulled up to the access road. "I'll walk the rest of the way." Max paused as she reached for the door handle, turning her head back towards him. "Hey um, thanks for last night. I'm sorry I was such a mess."

Mike shrugged. "It was actually pretty fun until the end there. Chalk it up to dumb teenage antics?" Max shot him a grateful smile before opening the door and hauling her weary body out of the car, immediately deciding she was going to take an hour-long shower and crawl back into bed until she no longer felt like a zombie.

"I'll catch you at Spin later this week?" she asked before closing the door. He gave her a nod and a crooked smile that made her heart inexplicably skip a beat. "Later, Wheeler."

"Later, Mayfield." She watched him pull a u-turn and drive away before turning and making her way down the road, any confusing thoughts about her friend quickly being pushed aside as she approached the chaos in the trailer park.

At first, she figured Eddie must have gotten caught for dealing and possession but as she got closer she realized there were way too many police officers there for it to just be a simple drug bust.

The residents of the trailer park were all standing on their front porches or peering through their windows, warily observing the scene, while her neighbour's dog barked incessantly from behind his chain-link fence, letting his thoughts on the disturbance be known.

Max felt a pit of dread form in her stomach as Chief Powell emerged from the trailer with a disturbed look on his face, muttering something to one of his officers before getting into his cruiser. None of them even looked at her as she walked by the scene and up the steps of her own trailer, an uneasy tension hanging heavily in the air.

She jumped back as the metal door of the trailer banged open, her mother emerging in her pink bathrobe with a furious look on her face. Shit.

"Get your ass in here, young lady," she hissed as she grabbed Max's elbow roughly and pulled her inside the trailer, closing the door and peering through the window before turning to face her daughter. "Where the hell have you been Maxine?"

Max fidgeted with the strap of her watch and looked down at the floor, not used to her mother caring enough about what she did to be angry with her.

"I was just-"

"And what are you wearing?" her mom cut her off, eyes fixating on the grey t-shirt that was swallowing Max's small frame. "Is that a boy's shirt? I know it's not one of yours." Max looked up at her mom with wide eyes, fruitlessly wracking her brain for a lie that would get her out of this.

Susan scoffed and took a drag of the menthol cigarette in her hand, shaking her head as she looked Max up and down. "I've been at home worried sick about you and you're off spreading your legs for some boy?"

Max felt herself physically recoil at her mother's harsh accusation, a sting of hurt jabbing her in the heart as tears sprang to her eyes. "Mom, no I was just at a party and-"

"Oh, so you were getting drunk too? That's just great, Max," she hissed as she lit a new cigarette with the end of her old one. "If you're not careful you'll end up getting knocked up by trailer trash like that Munson boy." Max frowned and looked out the window over her mom's shoulder. If he's trailer trash then what does that make us? she wondered, fighting the urge to speak those words aloud. She took a deep breath as she tried to hold back her tears.

"Mom, I'm sorry," she started in a quiet voice but Susan just held up her hand like she didn't want to hear it.

"I have to get ready for work," she said as she brushed by Max and walked over to the kitchen counter, turning on the coffee maker. "Go take a shower and sober up, I can smell the booze on you." Max felt something inside of her snap.

"Well, I guess we fucking match then, don't we?" she shouted at her mom's back. Susan whipped around with an incredulous look on her face like she'd just been slapped, frozen for a moment before her expression quickly morphed into anger.

"Go to your room, Max," she said in an unsettlingly low voice, clearly trying to hold back her fury. "You do not talk to me like that." Max rolled her eyes and shouldered her backpack, walking stiffly down the hall to her room and slamming the door behind her, throwing her bag in the corner before collapsing face-first onto her bed. Angry tears spilled down her cheeks and stained her pillowcase.

Her mother really had some nerve to scold Max for something she did herself every fucking day. And how could she accuse her of sleeping around? Didn't she know her own daughter better than that? You know she doesn't, the voice in her head scoffed.

Max rolled over and wiped under her eyes with her fingertips before reaching over to turn on her stereo. She froze when she heard a commotion outside, standing up and sliding one of her windows open and poking her head out to try and see what was going on. Her windows were on the side of the house but she managed to catch a glimpse of paramedics wheeling a gurney into the Munson trailer and she felt her blood run cold. The older man Eddie lived with, she wasn't sure if it was his father or his uncle, was talking somberly to Officer Callahan out front, so it wasn't his body inside. Did something happen to Eddie? she wondered, quickly pulling her head back inside when two cops walked closer to her trailer, their heads bent together in conversation.

"Did you get a look at the body?" the shorter man asked his partner.

"Never seen anything like it," the taller one replied, shaking his head in disbelief. "It's Phil Cunningham's little girl... Chrissy, I think her name was." Max's eyes widened in shock as she backed away from the window and sat on her bed. Chrissy Cunningham was the dead body in Eddie's trailer?

"Chief wants us to interview the boys over at Benny's, I guess they were partying there after the game," the short one said as they headed towards the cruisers and out of earshot.

Max chewed on a hangnail as she tried to make sense of what she'd just learned. Everyone knew Chrissy was dating Jason Carver, he'd just publicly declared his love for her during that eye roll-worthy speech at the pep rally. So what the fuck was she doing in Eddie's trailer the night of her boyfriend's big game?

Max thought back to that afternoon after the pep rally when she'd heard Chrissy violently puking into the toilet and asked if she was okay. She'd rejected Max's concern so she just chalked it up to a classic case of bulimic cheerleader and hadn't given it any more thought. Maybe Chrissy had actually been pregnant and it was Eddie's? Eddie didn't seem like the type to murder a pregnant woman in a fit of rage, but then again Max didn't really know him at all. Her only interaction with him had been one time when she'd accompanied Mike to buy more pot.

She sighed as she turned her stereo on and cranked up the volume, the opening notes of "Running Up That Hill" drowning out the sound of the gathering reporters and bystanders outside before pressing the heels of her hands to her eye sockets and taking deep breaths through her nose as she felt her anxiety rising. Why did death seem to follow her everywhere she went?

Without thinking she pulled the collar of Mike's t-shirt over her nose, deeply inhaling the scent she hadn't initially realized she'd often smelled on Mike himself. She bet Mrs. Wheeler even used fabric softener and everything. Mrs. Wheeler probably also never yelled at Nancy and accused her of whoring around town and then refused to even hear her out.

Max looked over at the walkie-talkie sitting on her nightstand. She desperately wanted to radio Mike to rant about her mom but something was holding her back. Maybe she was getting too close to him and that's why she was having all these… confusing feelings. She should probably try and put some space between them, no matter how much the voice inside her protested the thought.

Max sighed and lifted her hips as she wiggled out of her jeans, leaving the t-shirt on as she slipped under her covers and rolled over, turning her back on the walkie-talkie and suppressing the overwhelming need to hear Mike's voice.