Dove stood in front of the mirror, smoothing out the fabric of her dress. It was simple, nothing too flashy—just a soft, light blue cotton dress that fell just below her knees. She hadn't worn it in a while, but tonight felt like the right time to pull it out. The summer heat lingered in the air, and jeans would have been unbearable, even after the sun went down.

She bit her lip, staring at her reflection. Was this too much? Too little? The last time she had worn a dress on a date had been... never. And this wasn't even a real date, was it? Not like the kind she'd imagined. But Billy had called her last night, and when he asked if she wanted to seeFootloose, her heart had skipped a beat, and she said yes without thinking.

Footloosehad just hit Hawkins' small theater. Everyone had been talking about it for weeks, but Dove hadn't had the chance to see it yet. The idea of going to the movies with Billy—someone new, someone exciting—had filled her with a mix of anticipation and nerves.

Now, as she stood there, the excitement was fading into unease. She didn't really know him, and the way he looked at her, the way he smiled like he was always one step ahead, made her heart race for reasons she couldn't quite pin down.

Still, she grabbed her bag and headed downstairs, her mom's voice drifting from the living room as she slipped out the front door without saying much more than "I'm going out."

Outside, the warm air settled around her like a blanket. The sound of an engine rumbling in the distance made her stomach flip, and when she saw Billy's Camaro pull up in front of her house, the unease swirled again. But she had made her decision. She was going.

Billy leaned out the window, flashing her that familiar grin as she approached. "Hey, you ready?"

Dove nodded, her fingers tightening on the strap of her bag. "Yeah."

He glanced at her dress as she climbed into the car. "You look nice," he said, his voice low and easy, but with something sharp underneath that made her feel both noticed and a little exposed. Dove smiled slightly, her hands resting in her lap as Billy pulled away from the curb.

The theater wasn't crowded—it never was, especially in Hawkins. Dove hadn't seenFootlooseyet, even though it had been out for a few months. The movie had only just made it to their small town theater, the kind of place where new releases took their time to show up. She'd heard everyone talking about it—how exciting it was, how the music and dancing were incredible—but tonight, she wasn't sure if she was more focused on the movie or the boy sitting next to her.

Billy parked the car, tossing his keys into his pocket as he stepped out. He didn't say much as they walked to the ticket booth, but Dove could feel his presence next to her like a magnet, pulling her attention away from everything else.

He bought the tickets with a smirk at the girl behind the counter, who giggled as she handed them over. Dove caught the look, her stomach twisting a little. She hadn't expected to feel jealous—she barely knew Billy—but the way he effortlessly charmed people left her feeling unsettled.

They found their seats near the back of the theater, and Dove settled in, her hands gripping the armrests as the lights dimmed. The opening notes of the movie's soundtrack filled the room, and for a moment, Dove let herself relax, trying to get lost in the excitement of the film.

As the movie unfolded, Dove found herself drawn into the story. The rebellious energy of Ren McCormack fighting against the oppressive rules of a small town felt more real than she had expected. She could relate to the idea of wanting to break free, to do something unexpected, to push back against the expectations that weighed her down. It reminded her of why she had agreed to come out tonight in the first place—why she had said yes to Billy, even though part of her had been hesitant.

But it was hard to stay completely focused on the screen with Billy sitting so close. About halfway through the movie, he draped his arm across the back of her seat, his fingers just brushing her shoulder. Dove tensed, her skin prickling with awareness. She tried to focus on the music, on the characters dancing across the screen, but Billy's presence was overwhelming, filling up the small space between them.

"You alright?" Billy whispered, leaning in close enough that she could feel his breath against her ear.

"Yeah," she whispered back, her voice tight. "I'm fine."

But she wasn't. Not really. There was something about Billy's attention that made her feel both flattered and uneasy at the same time. She couldn't figure him out, and that made it hard to relax. Part of her wanted to move away, to put some distance between them, but another part of her didn't want to seem scared, like she was the same predictable girl she'd always been.

When the movie ended, Billy stretched as they stepped out into the cool night air, his arm slung casually around her shoulders for a brief moment before dropping away. The parking lot was nearly empty, and the theater lights cast long shadows across the ground as they walked toward his car.

"Good movie, right?" he said, his voice light but his eyes sharp as they slid over to her.

"Yeah," Dove replied, her throat dry. "It was good."

"Glad I took you, then," Billy said, unlocking the car door and sliding inside. "But the night's still young. How about we take a drive?"

Dove hesitated, glancing up at the dark sky, her stomach twisting again. Something about this felt... wrong. But she didn't know how to say no without feeling like she was ruining the night, without feeling like she was being too cautious. Too predictable.

"Sure," she said, her voice quieter this time as she climbed into the car.

The engine roared to life, and Billy pulled out of the parking lot, driving through the quiet streets of Hawkins. At first, the drive felt fine, almost relaxing as the wind rushed through the open windows, but after a few minutes, Billy turned down a side street, heading toward the outskirts of town.

Dove sat up a little straighter, her pulse quickening. "Where are we going?"

"Just somewhere quiet," Billy said, glancing over at her with that same grin. "Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you."

But Dove wasn't so sure. The further they drove from town, the more uneasy she felt, her heart pounding in her chest. Before she could say anything, Billy pulled into a dark, empty parking lot—a place she didn't recognize, far from the lights of town. He parked the car and leaned back in his seat, turning toward her with a casual smile.

"Why are we here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Billy shrugged. "Just wanted some privacy. Nothing wrong with that, right?"

Her pulse quickened, and suddenly the air felt too thick. She shifted uncomfortably, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "I think... I think I should probably get home."

Billy leaned closer, his eyes locked on hers. "C'mon, Dove. We're just hanging out."

But his hand was already moving toward her leg, his fingers brushing her thigh. The touch was light at first, but then his grip tightened, his hand creeping higher. The feeling of unease turned into outright fear, cold and sharp in the pit of her stomach. Dove's breath hitched, her heart hammering in her chest.

"No," she said, her voice trembling. "Billy, stop."

But he didn't stop. His hand pressed harder against her leg, and he leaned in, his face inches from hers. Dove's mind went blank, the walls of the car closing in around her. She tried to pull away, but he was too close, too strong. His other hand moved to her waist, fingers gripping her dress.

"Relax," Billy murmured, his voice low and coaxing, like this was all part of the game. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

But Dove didn't believe him. She could see it in his eyes—he wasn't going to stop. Panic surged through her veins, and her body moved before her mind could catch up. She yanked her hand free, her fingers scrambling for the door handle. The cold metal of the handle was slippery under her sweaty palm, but she twisted it hard, shoving the door open with all the strength she had.

She tumbled out of the car, hitting the ground hard, her knees scraping against the rough pavement. Her heart raced as she scrambled to her feet, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. She didn't dare look back. She just ran.

Billy didn't follow. He sat there, watching her with that same smirk, like none of this had been out of the ordinary. Like it had all been a game to him.

Dove's legs burned as she ran, the cool night air hitting her face, but it did nothing to calm the terror surging through her. Her mind was blank, filled only with the instinct to get away, to put as much distance between herself and Billy as possible.

She didn't know how long she ran—minutes, maybe hours—her legs trembling beneath her. By the time she slowed down, her chest heaving, she was only a few blocks from home. The streetlights above cast a dim, yellow glow on the pavement, but everything around her felt dark, oppressive.

Dove stopped under one of the lights, her breath ragged and uneven. She wiped at her face, realizing only then that she had been crying. Her hands shook as she tried to steady herself, but nothing felt steady. Everything felt like it was spinning, slipping out of control.

This wasn't what she wanted. This wasn't the change she had been looking for.

The streets of Hawkins were unnervingly quiet as Dove walked, her heart still pounding in her chest. Her legs ached, her dress was smeared with dirt from where she'd fallen, and her mind was a swirl of panic, confusion, and shame. The cool night air did nothing to soothe the heat that still crawled under her skin.

She couldn't believe what had happened. The memory of Billy's hand on her leg, the way his smirk never faltered, how his voice stayed calm and teasing while her world had spun out of control—it wouldn't leave her. It echoed in her head, making her feel sick, making her feel trapped even though she was miles away from him now.

Her feet moved on autopilot, carrying her toward home, though she wasn't sure she was ready to face her mom or Dustin. What would she even say? The tears that had welled up earlier returned, blurring the street in front of her. She wiped at her face furiously, not wanting to cry, not wanting to feel like this.

The rumble of an engine snapped her out of her thoughts, making her freeze for a moment. Her chest tightened with fear as the sound grew louder, headlights sweeping across the street toward her. Was it Billy? Had he followed her?

Dove turned instinctively, preparing to run again, when she saw a different car—a dark BMW slowly pulling to a stop beside her.

She blinked, her heart still hammering in her chest, but not from fear this time. The window rolled down, and Steve Harrington leaned out, his face illuminated in the dim light from the streetlamp above.

"Are you okay?" Steve's voice was soft, concerned.

For a moment, Dove couldn't find her voice. Her throat felt tight, her mind still reeling from the encounter with Billy. The last thing she wanted right now was to talk to anyone, but the genuine worry in Steve's voice made her pause. She hadn't expected to see anyone tonight, least of all Steve Harrington—the guy everyone in school talked about, the one who walked the halls like he owned them.

But tonight, his expression wasn't cocky or self-assured. It was gentle. Concerned. Like he wasn't the Steve Harrington she'd heard so much about, the guy who was dating Nancy Wheeler and fought with Jonathan Byers. He looked at her like he was really seeing her, like he knew something was wrong.

"I-" Dove's voice cracked, her words getting caught in her throat. She tried again, swallowing hard. "I'm fine."

She wasn't fine. And from the way Steve's brow furrowed, she knew he didn't believe her.

"You don't look fine," he said quietly, stepping out of the car. His footsteps were soft on the pavement as he approached her, his gaze never leaving her face. "What happened?"

Dove wiped at her eyes again, more out of habit than anything else. She could still feel the faint sting of tears, but her body was too tired to keep crying. She didn't know what to say. How could she explain what had just happened? How could she put into words the fear and panic she had felt back there with Billy?

"Nothing," she mumbled, looking down at her shoes. "It's nothing."

Steve stopped a few feet in front of her, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, his expression soft but patient. "You don't have to tell me," he said, his voice so quiet it felt like a whisper in the night air. "But you don't have to lie, either."

Dove's heart ached at his words, the sincerity in them making her chest tighten. She wasn't used to this kind of attention—someone actually caring about what was going on with her. She had always been the one who kept things to herself, who dealt with her own problems quietly, without anyone noticing.

But now, standing in the middle of the street with Steve Harrington watching her with those worried eyes, she felt the weight of everything pressing down on her at once. The shame of what had happened, the fear that still lingered in her chest, the uncertainty of what to do next—it was too much.

"I don't know," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I just.. I don't know."

Steve was quiet for a moment, his eyes searching her face as if he was trying to figure out what to say next. Then, without a word, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, neatly folded handkerchief.

"Here," he said, holding it out to her. "You, uh- you've got some mascara, like, all over."

Dove stared at the handkerchief for a moment, her brain still struggling to catch up. It was such a small gesture, but it felt like something more. Tentatively, she took it, her fingers brushing his as she did. The fabric was soft against her skin as she wiped at her eyes, trying to clear away the streaks of makeup and tears.

"Thanks," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Steve nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Yeah, no problem."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The night felt still around them, the distant chirp of crickets the only sound. Dove didn't know what to say—didn't know how to thank him for showing up at just the right time, how to tell him that even though she hadn't explained anything, he had still made her feel less alone.

Steve cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "You, uh- you need a ride?"

The question made Dove's heart race again, but this time it wasn't from fear. It was something else—something she couldn't quite name. Part of her wanted to say yes, to climb into the passenger seat of his car and feel the safety of the ride home. But another part of her—the part that was still shaken from Billy—hesitated. The last time she had gotten into a car with a boy, it hadn't ended well.

"I don't.." Dove's voice trailed off, uncertainty creeping into her words. She didn't want to seem ungrateful, but the thought of getting into another car tonight made her stomach twist.

Steve must have noticed the look on her face because he nodded quickly, stepping back. "It's cool. You don't have to. I get it."

Dove let out a shaky breath, relief and gratitude mixing in her chest. "Thanks. I think- I think I just need to walk."

Steve didn't argue. He just stood there for a moment, watching her, before nodding again. "Okay. Just be careful, alright?"

Dove offered him a weak smile. "Yeah. I will."

There was another brief pause before Steve took a step back toward his car. "If you, uh, ever need anything.." He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed. "You know. I'm around."

"Thanks," Dove said softly, her chest aching with a strange sense of warmth and sadness all at once.

Steve gave her one last look, his eyes full of concern, before turning back to his car. She watched as he drove off into the night, the taillights of his BMW disappearing around the corner.

For a few moments, Dove stood there, the handkerchief still clutched tightly in her hand. The night felt quieter now, calmer, though the weight of everything that had happened still hung in the air. But for the first time in hours, she didn't feel completely alone.

She wasn't sure what was going to happen next. She wasn't sure how to process everything, how to deal with the swirl of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. But Steve's unexpected kindness had been enough to pull her out of the darkness, if only for a moment.

Dove took a deep breath and started walking again, the streetlights guiding her path back home.

The familiar sight of her house loomed ahead as Dove turned the corner. The porch light was still on, casting a soft glow over the front yard. Everything looked the same, as if nothing had changed, as if the world hadn't shifted under her feet in the last few hours.

She took slow, deliberate steps up the path to the front door, her heart heavy. A part of her had hoped that maybe, just maybe, someone would notice something was wrong—that her mom might be waiting for her in the living room, asking where she had been, or that Dustin might be up late with his radio projects, hearing the click of the door and looking up in concern.

But as she pushed open the door, the house was quiet. Too quiet.

Her mom must have gone to bed already, the TV still softly murmuring in the background. Dustin's door was closed, and a faint light seeped out from underneath it, but there was no sound from him either. He was probably asleep, worn out from his latest adventure with his friends. No one was waiting for her. No one had noticed.

Dove stood in the hallway for a moment, the silence pressing down on her, amplifying the dull ache in her chest. The house felt cold, distant, like a place she didn't belong right now. She could hear the faint ticking of the kitchen clock, the low hum of the refrigerator. It was all so normal, so routine, and yet she felt completely out of place.

She swallowed hard, pushing down the lump in her throat as she headed toward the stairs. Her legs felt like lead as she climbed, each step heavier than the last. By the time she reached her bedroom door, the weight of everything was nearly too much to carry.

Dove slipped into her room, shutting the door behind her as quietly as she could. The familiar surroundings—the corkboard filled with old summer goals, the guitar in the corner, the stack of books on her nightstand—felt foreign now, like they belonged to someone else. Someone who hadn't gone through what she had tonight.

She rested her back against the door, the cool wood pressing into her skin as she let herself sink slowly to the ground. Her knees curled up to her chest, her arms wrapping around them tightly, as if she could hold herself together through sheer force of will.

But the tears came anyway.

They slipped out silently at first, a few stray drops trailing down her cheeks. But soon, they came in waves, her shoulders shaking as the sobs racked through her body. She pressed her face into her knees, trying to muffle the sound, not wanting anyone to hear, not wanting anyone to see her like this. But in the darkness of her room, alone and hidden from the world, there was no one to stop them. No one to notice.

The pain of what had happened—Billy's touch, the fear, the shame—flooded back, and all she could do was cry. Cry for the girl she had been earlier that evening, the one who thought something exciting was finally happening. Cry for the way it had all gone wrong. Cry for the trust she had placed in someone who didn't deserve it.

Her chest heaved as the tears kept falling, hot and bitter, staining her dress and soaking into her skin. The world felt too big, too harsh, too cold, and Dove felt so small. Too small to fight back, too small to understand how she had ended up here, too small to make sense of it all.

The crying left her exhausted, her energy drained from the weight of it all. Eventually, the sobs turned to quiet sniffles, and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to calm the erratic beat of her heart. But the tears kept coming, slower now, gentler, until finally, they stopped.

Dove pressed her back harder against the door, her body trembling as the last of the sobs faded away. She closed her eyes, letting the darkness take over, the heaviness in her limbs pulling her down into a tired haze.

Before she knew it, she had drifted into sleep, curled up on the floor with her head resting against her knees, the weight of the world still pressing down on her chest.

The house remained quiet.

No one noticed.