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alagalaska · 5 years ago

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‘It’s On!’ Chapter Three

Summary: Mini-series. Y/N is the captain of the female basketball team at Hawkins High. She clashes with the new captain of the male team when he keeps booking out the gym, leaving the girls with nowhere to practice

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem! Reader

Masterlist // Series Masterlist // Chapter Two

A/N: This was submitted as part of the wonderful @lets-hargroove’s Valentine’s Writing Challenge. It’s here, finally! Chapter 3! Sorry it’s taken so long. It was my husband’s birthday yesterday, which I have been preparing for for weeks (if you wanna see what I made him just head on over to my other blog @alagalaska-makes, especially if you’re a Harry Potter fan). I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please like, comment or reblog to let me know what you think. If anyone would like to discuss this story with me or has any questions about the plot or the characters, please feel free to send me an ask or a message, I love hearing from you guys!

Prompt: Enemies to Lovers trope

Please do not steal/ copy my work, in part or in whole. Plagiarism is a crime!

Chapter warnings: swearing, talk of underage drinking, slut shaming, sexist comments, Billy being an ass.

Word count: 6,900

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The next morning, you wake up feeling horrible, in more ways than one.

You open your eyes and promptly squeeze them shut again.

“Ugh,” you groan. Why is it so bright in here?

There’s a dull throbbing inside your skull and your entire body aches. If you didn’t know any better, you’d guess you were coming down with an illness. However, you know this is purely self-inflicted; which means you don’t deserve to feel as sorry for yourself as you do, or at all in fact.

You peel your eyes open again, squinting against the light, and make a clumsy attempt at sitting up in the bed.

“Mornin’ Sleeping Beauty,” Heather says cheerily from beside you. You flinch at the sound, too loud for you having only just woken up. “How you feeling?”

You bring a hand up to massage your temple.

“Like death.” The words scratch against the inside of your throat.

Heather chuckles from beside you on the bed. The mattress trembles slightly beneath her.

“Look like it too,” She says jokingly. She’s lying on her stomach on top of the covers, flipping through a magazine, still wearing her pyjamas.

You see that someone, probably Heather, has placed a glass of water on the bedside table next to you and you reach for it, suddenly aware of how dry the inside of your mouth is. You take a few grateful gulps then place it back down, feeling slightly nauseous.

You move the covers off you and notice that you’re wearing your pyjamas. You don’t remember putting them on last night; in fact, everything after the party is a bit of a blur.

“How did we get home?” you ask Heather, unsettled by the blank space in your memory.

“Steve drove us. When he came to find me, you passed out on a bench; that’s probably why you don’t remember. He carried you in too.” She laughs at the memory of it, but you feel the shame starting to creep in.

“I’m so sorry I pulled you away from the party early,” you say. “And I’m sorry I got so drunk.”

“Don’t be,” she smiles and shrugs, “It’s fine, we’ve all done it before.”

You’re happy Heather’s not mad at you, but you still feel bad. And it wasn’t just her night you cut short either; you should thank Steve at school on Monday for helping you.

Heather scoots slightly closer to you on the bed.

“And I’m sorry that I left you,” she says.

“Heather, don’t be silly. Even if you had been with me, it probably would have still ended the same way.”

She gives you another small smile then looks down at the magazine. She closes it, smoothing the cover of it out with her hand. You can tell she’s thinking about something.

“Steve said you were upset about Billy?” she asks, glancing up at you.

Ah yes, now that part you do remember.

You sigh.

“Yeah, I think I fucked up,” you say, scrubbing your hand down your face.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” you say, but you continue anyway. “Turns out Billy is the new captain of the boys’ basketball team.”

“Oh,” she breathes.

“Yeah, exactly. I found out and sorta flipped out about it. It was baaad.” You want to bury yourself back under the covers at the memory of it, but you just about manage to refrain.

“What did you say to him?”

“I can’t remember exactly,” you say, rubbing at your temples again to try and ease the throbbing. “I just remember shouting at him and then storming off.” You groan, recalling his face as he’d asked you where you were going. “I mean, sure, I’m still annoyed about him stealing my gym time, but if I’d just taken a second to think about it, instead of biting his head off…” you sigh in frustration at yourself. “There’s no way he’s ever gonna agree to let me have my days back now.”

She considers your words silently for a moment.

“Well, maybe it wasn’t that bad. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.”

You look at her skeptically.

“He clearly likes you,” she continues. “Enough to kiss you, anyway.”

I suppose she has a point. But wait-

“How do you know about that?” you ask, eyeing her suspiciously.

“I just assumed,” she says, smirking. “And also, you have a hickey on your neck.” She points to it.

“What?!”

You leap off the bed and check yourself in her mirror, moving the collar of your pyjama top out of the way to better see the red mark on your neck, not yet a bruise, from where Billy had been kissing you last night.

Oh fuck. I can’t let my mum see this!!

You turn to look at her in distress.

“Heather!” you scold as she laughs at you from the bed.

“Oh calm down, it’ll cover up easy enough,” she says, shuffling to the end of the mattress and sitting cross-legged. “So, was it good?” She asks you eagerly.

“Was what good?”

“The kiss, stupid.”

You stare at her in disbelief for a moment. That’s what she’s choosing to focus on?

“Yeah, it was great,” you say dismissively, sitting down on the end of the bed next to her, “but that doesn’t really matter, does it, because he probably thinks I’m a psycho after the way I acted.” You groan and flump down onto the mattress so that you’re lying on your back.

Heather gives an exasperated sigh from beside your legs and you sit up halfway to look at her, propped up on your elbows.

“So then apologise,” she says, as if it’s the obvious solution. Like it’s that easy.

You scoff a laugh.

“Oh yeah,” you say skeptically.

“Look, just say you were really drunk. That’s the great thing about parties; if you do something stupid, you can just blame it on the alcohol.”

You frown at her words. Your head hurts and all you want to do is lay here for the rest of your life, hiding from the world.

“Can’t I just avoid him forever?” you say pathetically. You flop down onto your back again and groan, turning your face into the covers.

She laughs at you.

“Not if you want this whole thing with basketball practice sorted you can’t.” Ugh. Why does she always have to be right?!

“Trust me, I really don’t think this is as big a deal as you’re making it out to be,” she says, amusement in her voice. “It’s like I said, he obviously likes you; you can totally use that to your advantage.”

You uncover your face and peek at her.

“And you never know, if it goes well, you might even get another kiss!” she says excitedly, jostling you on the mattress. You smile into the covers, trying to hide your face from her.

You’re not so sure about that; but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the idea of kissing Billy again. You bite your lip, thinking about the kiss you had shared last night.

“Ok, fine!” you say finally, glaring at her playfully as you sit up. “I’ll go talk to him tomorrow. Now fix my neck!” you gesture at Billy’s mark on your skin and Heather grabs her makeup bag off the dresser, still laughing at you. At least one of us is enjoying this situation!

----------------

Realising that there’s still a good chance that Billy will try to book out the gym for your slot on Tuesday, you make the effort to arrive at school slightly earlier than usual on Monday morning.

You do still plan to find him and apologise for your behaviour on Saturday, but you also want to try and avoid any more tension with your own team, and beating him to the booking schedule would definitely help with that.

Your chances are looking pretty good too; as you pull into the parking lot there’s a good selection of available parking spaces and, much to your delight, the car that had taken to blocking your spot last week, is nowhere to be seen.

It even feels like it might be warmer today; the sun shining down on you as you back into your space. And (dare you say it?) it feels like this might be a sign from the Universe that things could be looking up this week.

When you enter the office you find Amber sitting at her desk as per usual, filing her pristine nails and chanking on gum. Her eyeshadow is bright pink today.

She glances up at you as you enter.

“Hi Amber,” you begin.

She sighs heavily.

“I’ll spare you the breath,” she says, in her familiar nasally voice. “You’re already too late.”

You freeze, mid-step, in the doorway.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, really?” you say in disbelief.

“Will you keep your voice down?” she hisses at you. “The Principal is in a meeting.” She points with her nail file at the dark brown door that leads off from the main office area, with a small golden plaque that reads ‘Principal Davies.’

She sighs again. Puts her nail file down on the desk. She’s reaching for the booking schedule, but you don’t need to look at it to know whose initials will be on it.

You walk forward and take it from her anyway.

B.H glares up at you from the paper in neat cursive and your stomach sinks.

How is it that someone who barely even shows up to lessons has managed to beat you to booking out the gym three times in a row?!

You consider arguing your case, but you know it’ll do no good. Amber may be bad at her job, but she’s a stickler for the rules. Or maybe it’s just that she likes telling people ‘no.’ Yeah, that sounds more likely. Either way, it’s a fight you know you won’t win.

You hand the clipboard back to Amber and leave the office, defeated; all hopes of this day being a good one, well and truly dashed.

What am I gonna do now?

You already know the answer. You need Billy to switch days with you, or at the very least agree to stop stealing your days. Which means you need to find him and apologise before lunch break; there’s no way you can face your team in the cafeteria without this being sorted. Your stomach knots up at the very thought.

You head for your locker like always but as you’re early, Nancy won’t be there yet. You could really use her advice right now about how to approach things with the team. She has always been much better at the politics of it all than you.

You hear quiet muttering and look up to see a guy and a girl standing at the left hand side of the corridor, talking amongst themselves as they get their books from their lockers. You notice that they keep glancing at you as you pass. You continue on your way, but as you turn the corner you peer over your shoulder and see that they’re still looking at you. The boy says something and the girl nods and laughs. Don’t be paranoid, you tell yourself. They could be talking about anything.

When you get to your locker however, a girl who’s in the same Math class as you and Heather watches you from the end of the hall. You shoot her a friendly smile as you open up your locker but she just frowns at you and looks away. That’s strange.

Maybe you have something on your face? Or maybe people are just shocked to see you at school early for once. Or maybe news of your drunken antics on Saturday has already spread throughout the school. Knowing your luck at the moment, it’s probably the latter.

You adjust the neck of your jumper, pulling it higher just in case, making sure the mark on your neck is covered.

As you turn back to grab your books from your locker, you spot Nancy and Steve heading up the corridor towards you.

Nancy is slightly ahead, walking quickly, with her head down and Steve is hurrying along behind her, trying to keep pace. He says something to her but she doesn’t acknowledge him. You guess they might be having an argument.

When they reach you, you say hi but neither of them returns it. Nancy goes straight to her locker, with only a brief glance to you. Wow, he must have really pissed her off.

Steve leans against the front of the locker on the other side of Nancy’s and briefly meets your eyes, giving you a very quick, very strained smile. He runs his hand through the front of his hair, and from the way it doesn’t flop back into its regular shape like it usually would, you guess that he’s been running his hand through it a lot this morning.

You really want to get straight into telling Nancy all about Billy being the new captain and how he’s booked out the gym again, but something’s telling you this might not be the best time. If they have indeed just had an argument it isn’t really fair of you to lay this on her as well. You should wait until later.

You clear your throat a little awkwardly.

“I owe you a ‘thank you’ for Saturday,” you say to Steve over Nancy’s head. He glances at you with slightly startled, hazel eyes.

You feel Nancy watching the pair of you, unsmiling.

“He was great, Nance,” you tell her, trying to make Steve look good so that maybe she will be slightly less mad with him. “Made sure I got home safe.”

Nancy continues to look unimpressed.

“That’s ok, Y/N, you don’t need to thank me,” Steve says quickly, then glances nervously at Nancy.

“Well, I at least owe you an apology then,” you huff a laugh and then add, to Nancy, who’s staring at you with one eyebrow partially raised, “I was wasted.” You give a nervous bubble of laughter.

“Yeah, Steve already told me all about it.” There’s an edge of resentment to her tone.

You feel like you should probably leave and let them continue their argument in peace. You’re about to make your excuses when you think of something.

“Hey, did either of you guys happen to see Billy when you were outside?”

You’re expecting some sort of cutting comment from at least one of them about Billy but, surprisingly, it doesn’t come. Nancy goes back to grabbing her books out of her locker.

“I don’t think so,” Steve shrugs, “I doubt he’s even here yet.”

“Oh,” is all you say, although you know he is here already, because he booked out the gym before you.

Nancy shuts her locker forcefully and with a certain finality.

“Right, well. I’ll, uh, see you at lunch Nance,” you say to her.

“Yeah.” She gathers her belongings and starts heading off towards her first lesson.

“Bye,” Steve says to you, looking slightly harassed, then rushes to catch up with Nancy again.

You watch them go, hoping whatever they were arguing about wasn’t anything too serious. They’ll probably be all loved up again by lunch time.

You stand next to your locker for a little while longer, trying to think of where the best place to start looking for Billy is. There’s not long left until first period is due to start. You figure he’s probably smoking.

You go outside, despite Steve saying he hadn’t seen him out there, and head over to the bike shed. You check the space behind it, where you met him last week.

No luck; it’s empty.

You head back up to the school just as the bell sounds and you hurry to your lesson.

------

In between each period, you go back outside and check behind the bike shed. Apart from just aimlessly walking around the corridors hoping to bump into him, it’s the only place you can think to look. After your third time of checking the little alleyway, it’s looking less and less likely that you’ll find him before you have to face your team. It’s time for a contingency plan, you think. You can’t turn up unprepared, or Ashley will chew you up and spit you out.

So during fourth period, you find yourself barely paying any attention to what’s going on, choosing to spend your time jotting down the points that you want to make to your team and a rough plan of action.

When lunch time rolls around, you still haven’t found Billy and you’re officially out of time.

You visit the bathroom on your way to the cafeteria and take a moment to stare at your reflection in the mirror above the sinks, giving yourself a pep-talk.

“Come on, Y/N, you got this,” you tell yourself. Just hold it together, your team needs you.

You sigh. You remember a time when being captain was straight forward.

You bet your sister never had to deal with any of this shit when she was captain. But even if she did, she’d know exactly how to handle it. You meet your eyes in the mirror. Push the thought down.

You huff a breath, deciding to stop procrastinating and just get this over with.

When you enter the cafeteria, you do a quick sweep of the room with your eyes, hoping Billy will be here. Unfortunately, there’s no sign of him, but you spot Carol sitting at a table near the door, talking with a small group of her friends. Maybe she’ll know where Billy is? It may be too late to fix things before you have to face your team, but if you knew where he was going to be later, you could still get this sorted today at least.

You go over to her.

“What, do I look like his keeper to you?” She sneers unpleasantly at you when you ask her. Takes a long slurp through her straw.

“Carol, look, I really need to talk to him,” you try to reason with her.

She scoffs.

“Oh yeah, I bet you do.” Her tone is mean, judging. A couple of her friends laugh. You assume that’s a dig at you for kissing Billy at the party on Saturday.

She’s probably just jealous because she’s stuck with Tommy, you tell yourself.

Before you can press her any further, she’s standing up and walking away from you, with a roll of her eyes. Her cronies follow her. One of them, a girl with ginger hair and a turned up nose, coughs exaggeratedly as she walks past you. You’re pretty sure you hear her utter the word ‘slut’ in between coughs and the others dissolve into laughter as they leave the cafeteria.

You scoff disbelievingly at their behaviour, but you refuse to let it bother you. You only kissed him. If they think that makes you a slut then they’re just prudes. Pretty sure most of them have done a whole lot worse anyway.

You’re distracted by Ashley, who’s standing up at your team’s table. Here we go.

As you head over to them, she stops talking and sits down.

You take a seat opposite Nancy. She looks up at you but doesn’t smile, just casts her eyes back down at her lunch, on the table in front of her. She must still be upset. You make a mental note to check if she’s ok when you’re alone.

You take out the notepad you’d written in earlier, turning to the page with your scribbled notes on. You don’t even bother taking out your lunch; you don’t think you can stomach eating anything until this is over with.

You glance up the table to check everyone’s here, to see Ashley eyeing you expectantly.

You take a preparatory breath.

“Ok, so guys, I’m just gonna get straight to it,” they all turn their attention to you. “We lost our gym slot for tomorrow to the boys again.”

Ashley barely reacts. If anything, her face grows slightly smugger, almost as if she had predicted this. Everyone else, on the other hand, had obviously thought this whole fiasco had already been dealt with. Or, that’s what you assume from their various reactions.

Molly pauses, her sandwich still held halfway to her mouth, and gapes at you.

“What?” She lowers her food. “Are you serious?”

Nancy is peering at you, a deep furrow in her brow. Her expression is hard to read. You’re not sure if she’s annoyed at you, like everyone else, or worried for you.

Rebecca and Jenny, your substitutes, are having a full blown rant at the other end of the table.

You can do this. Just follow your notes.

You glance down at your notebook and remind yourself of your plan of action.

“I know. I’m sorry, but as it’s first come, first serve, there isn’t much I can do about it. So, if we look at our op-”

“Wait, so you’re telling us that, after this happened last week, you didn’t think it was a good idea to get here earlier to try and beat him?” It’s Ashley who’s interrupted you.

Of course she can’t just make this easy for you.

You don’t even want to justify her comment with a response, but everyone at the table is looking to you for some sort of explanation.

“I tried,” you begin, “but he got here-” This time it’s Margo who cuts in.

“Wait a minute, I thought you said you were going to speak to their captain last week?”

“I did, or at least I attempted to, but I couldn’t find him,” you say.

“But weren’t you with him on Saturday?” Rebecca asks. She and Jenny share a look and the latter suppresses a laugh by turning her face into her shoulder, hiding behind a curtain of curly hair. Great, looks like the whole school knows…

You don’t even try to mask your frustrated sigh.

“Yes, but I didn’t know Billy was their captain at that point,” you say tersely, subconsciously adjusting the neck of your jumper.

You don’t even have to ask to guess how they knew that you were with Billy at the party on Saturday. Carol. She’s such a little…

Ashley scoffs a laugh.

“How did you not know?” she asks, sounding more than a little amused. Oh, I bet she’s just loving this.

“Can we please just get back on topic?” Nancy snaps, speaking for the first time since you’d sat down at the table.

Everyone looks at her in surprise; Margo even leans slightly away from her, as if she’s worried she’ll bite.

You could kiss Nancy right now. Thank you, you tell her with your eyes. She looks back down at her lunch again.

You clear your throat.

“Yes, as I was saying, our options are this: I can keep trying to book out the gym for our regular days, however as that is proving difficult, I suggest we try for another day as well. And as the boys are practicing on our days at the moment, we can assume that Wednesdays and Fridays will now be free.” You pause, giving everyone a chance to soak up the information.

“Well, Friday is when I look after my sister,” Margo says, popping a carrot stick into her mouth with a loud crunch.

That sparks a barrage of reasons why people ‘can’t do Fridays.’ You had expected that though.

“Then that leaves us with Wednesdays,” you say. “I appreciate it may be too short notice for some, but I think if most of us can make it, we should aim for Wednesday this week, plus one of our regular days; let’s say tomorrow. That way I can talk to Billy before practice to try and get this sorted sooner.” You look around the table and don’t see anyone objecting. Finally, now we’re getting somewhere.

“Right, so raise your hand if you can make Wednesday this week,” you say, raising your own. Most people do, with the exception of Jenny, but you’re not too fussed about missing one person; plus she’s a substitute so it should be fine. Ashley hesitates, glancing around at the rest of her teammates before reluctantly raising her own arm. She rolls her eyes for good measure as she does it, just to show you she isn’t happy.

“Ok, great,” you say. Everyone puts their hands down. You glance at your notes again, “I’ll try for Wednesday then; but, to be clear,” you look back up at your team, “we will just have to resign ourselves to training outside tomorrow. And possibly for the foreseeable future if Billy decides to make things difficult for us.”

Molly groans loudly in response.

“I know,” you say to her. “That is the worst case scenario; but at least the weather is starting to get warmer. Soon, it won’t be as unbearable anymore.”

“Yeah, but that’s just part of the problem,” Ashley pipes up. “How are we supposed to practice effectively, long term, without any basketball hoops?” she folds her arms over her chest, waiting for your answer. Jessica copies her, nodding. The whole team seems to be watching for your rebuttal.

“That’s a very good point, Ashley,” you say, begrudgingly. “I would suggest that as a team, we all try to come up with some solutions, just in case we do find ourselves having to train outside again in the future. But let’s just see how things go with Billy tomorrow; I’ll talk to him before practice, then we’ll take it from there. It might be that he just lets us have Tuesdays and Thursdays, you never know,” you say, shrugging. I really hope it’s that easy, you add to yourself.

Everyone, with the exception of Ashley, seems to be appeased by this solution and conversation eventually turns away from basketball, much to your relief.

Nancy stands, having finished her lunch, and gathers up her rubbish. You also stand, grabbing your notebook and say a hasty goodbye to your team; taking this as your chance to check if she’s ok.

She doesn’t wait for you, heading straight for the doors of the cafeteria. You hurry after her.

“Nance!” you shout when you make it into the corridor.

She slows her pace so you can catch up. She spares you a small glance as you reach her but doesn’t say anything.

“Thanks for helping me out back there,” you say, walking beside her now. You offer her a smile but she’s looking straight ahead of her, so she doesn’t see it.

“I know it’s not an ideal situation for us all to be in, but I appreciate the support,” you add.

She still doesn’t look at you.

You’re trying not to take her frosty demeanor towards you personally, because you figure it’s still to do with her argument with Steve from this morning.

“Hey, are you ok?” you ask her.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, curtly. Then she gives her head a small shake, as if she realises she’s being short with you and finally glances at you, her expression softening slightly. “Sorry, I’m ok. Thanks for asking.” She offers you a small smile then drops it quickly, looking ahead again.

You’re not sure whether to ask her about her argument with Steve or not. You figure if she wants you to know about it, she’ll tell you herself; so you decide against bringing it up.

You change the subject.

“Did you know Billy was the captain of the boys’ team?”

“No,” she says, then pauses for a second, “Actually, I think Steve did mention something about it, yeah.” She glances at you, an apology in her eyes.

How is it that everyone knew but no one thought to tell me?!

The bell rings to signal the end of lunch.

As students start filling the hall, Nancy turns to you.

“I better get to Biology. See you later,” she says, before heading in the direction of her classroom. You watch her go then make your way to your own lesson.

----------------

The next morning, you find yourself standing in the office, staring down at the booking sheet again, not quite believing your luck. So he’s taking all the days now?!

“He came in this morning and booked this?” you ask Amber.

She looks up from her magazine.

“Well, duh,” she says, looking at you like you’re stupid. “How else would his name be on there?”

You look down at the neat, curly letters in front of you, a deep crease in your brow.

“But I’m even earlier than yesterday,” you say. It’s not necessarily aimed at Amber. “I don’t get it.” You look up at her, putting the booking schedule back down on the desk.

“How long ago was he in here?” you ask her.

She pauses her reading again with a sigh. Looks at you over the top of her glasses in exasperation.

“What?”

“Billy. Did I literally just miss him? What time was it when he came in?”

She blinks at you.

“I don’t know,” she says, huffs like you’re asking too much of her. “Not long ago,” she shrugs.

“And you’re sure it’s definitely the same guy booking it as last week?”

She rolls her eyes at you.

“Er, yeah,” she says curtly. You realise it’s an odd question, but there’s just something that doesn’t quite feel right. You can’t put your finger on it though.

“Tanned, blonde mullet,” you check.

“Ridiculously good-looking; yeah, it’s the same guy alright,” she says. Shoots you a look as if to say ‘will that be all?’ She picks her magazine up again, makes a point of holding it in front of her to show she’s no longer paying attention to you.

Welp, that’s as much as I’m getting out of her. You glance back down at the booking schedule on her desk, frowning at his initials, then huff a sigh and leave.

You decide to try your luck at finding Billy again. He can’t be far. If he booked it not that long ago then maybe he’s still hanging around somewhere?

You doubt he’d be the sort to get to class early, seeing as he barely even shows up at all. I could check the library, I suppose.

You quickly check outside first, including behind the bike shed, but to no avail; then you do a sweep of the corridors and, finally, the library. The bell rings.

Nowhere. How is he nowhere?!

Frustrated, you make your way to class.

------

After school, you’re pacing back and forth in front of the large trophy cabinet just outside the doors to the gym. You’d kept an eye out all day for Billy, but hadn’t seen him. He didn’t show up for Chem 3rd period either. If you didn’t already know that he’d been in school to book the gym out in the morning, you would have guessed he wasn’t even in school at all.

But you knew he’d be here now, in the gym. He can’t avoid you any longer; not that you think that’s what he’s doing. But… maybe he is?

You’re wearing your basketball gear, which consists of your school sports hoodie and gym shorts, with a scarf carefully wrapped around your neck to hide the hickey. Luckily with the weather being so cold outside, no one on your team questioned why you were wearing it to practice.

You’d instructed the other girls to start warming up on the forecourt before making your way here. However, now you’re about to see him for the first time since the party, you’re not quite sure you’re ready for it.

Your bottom lip throbs a little from where you’ve been worrying it between your teeth all the way here.

You can hear the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor of the gym on the other side of the door.

Just apologise for Saturday, you tell yourself. You were in the wrong, you know that. Billy’s cool, he’ll probably be fine about it.

You take a deep breath and push open the double doors.

Billy is in the middle of the court, practicing one on one with one of his teammates as the others stretch and jog laps at the edge of the room.

He’s shirtless; curls grazing his naked shoulders as he confidently blocks the other guy’s attempts to get past him with the ball.

Your eyes linger on him as you hover by the door, waiting for the right moment to catch his eye. You don’t want to interrupt him.

A few of the other team members have paused in their stretches and are watching you from across the gym. Tommy spots you and shouts to Billy to get his attention.

“Hey, Hargove.” Tommy points to you and Billy looks up at him, then over at you.

His jaw clenches when he sees you and your stomach drops slightly. Yep, he’s pissed at me.

Ok, that’s fine, you think, trying to calm your nerves. You knew he probably would be. No need to stress, you take a deep breath, just stick to the plan.

You wave him over.

He looks away and, for a second, you think he might be choosing to ignore you. Then he charges at the other boy, ramming him with his shoulder and knocking him to the ground. He easily gains possession of the ball and dribbles it over to the basket, laughing cockily. He passes it under his own leg and dunks it with minimal effort. As he looks over at you again, his eyes flash, the same way they had at the party when he’d seen you talking to Steve. He goes over to where the other guy is on the floor.

“You were moving your feet,” Billy says, pulling him up, “Next time, plant them.”

He slowly looks you over as he approaches, taking in your gym shorts and bare legs. Notices the scarf around your neck. Then he meets your eyes with a steely gaze.

“Come to see how the game is meant to be played?” He asks when he reaches you, earning a few snickers from his team mates, all of whom have abandoned their warm up to watch.

You blink a couple of times, caught off guard by his standoffish tone and his clearly sexist comment, which you choose to ignore.

“I er, actually wanted to talk to you about Saturday,” you say, trying to keep your voice down so the rest of the team can’t eavesdrop. “Could we maybe talk in the hall?” you ask, gesturing over your shoulder at the door.

He tells the others to keep warming up, without a word to you, and leads the way out of the gym. You hear Tommy’s voice call out after you, but you don’t hear his words, muffled by the door closing. It’s probably something obnoxious though, and no doubt a comment about you and kissing. Whatever it is, the other guys find it amusing. Their laughter reaches you in the corridor.

Billy turns to face you, licking his bottom lip. Your eyes go to it, just as they had on Saturday in Tammy’s garden. Suddenly you’re thinking about what had followed that; his mouth on yours, his hands on your body.

You fight to compose yourself, to get your mind back on the matter at hand. You clear your throat. This would be so much easier if he had more clothes on.

“So,” you start, nervously fidgeting with your hands, trying not to look at his bare chest. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for how I acted at the party. I was pretty drunk and I-” He cuts you off.

“Which part are you apologising for?” he asks you, licks his lips again.

You blanch at the question, thrown off. Before you can ask him what he means, he clarifies for you.

“Flipping out for no reason and leaving me standing there like a jackass or for kissing me and then going home with Pretty Boy?” His voice is irritated.

“What?” you ask, dumbfounded. You expected him to be annoyed at you for shouting at him but… Pretty Boy? Is he talking about Steve?

He scoffs a laugh, running his tongue along his top row of teeth.

“Carol said she saw you leave the party with Harrington.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Yeah,” you say quickly, trying to explain yourself, “But it wasn’t like that. I was wasted, he was just making sure I got home safe.”

It suddenly makes sense why everyone has been acting so weird around you since Monday. So Carol has been spreading rumours; only, it’s worse than you had thought.

The whole school must think I slept with Steve! Oh, that’s just great. And after your little ‘display’ with Billy in the garden, why wouldn’t they believe it? Kissing someone you barely know...

You think about how Nancy had given you the cold shoulder yesterday. Oh no, poor Nancy... You’d assumed she’d been upset with Steve and was just projecting, but she must have been upset with both of you.

You can’t believe how ridiculous this whole situation is.

“Sure,” Billy says disbelievingly.

It irritates you that he would think that little of you.

Even if something had happened with Steve- which it hadn’t and obviously never would- it’s not like it’s even his business.

Why does he even care? Jesus, a guy kisses you once and thinks he owns you. And it’s not like he can talk, anyway; according to both Nancy and Steve, Billy’s got a reputation of his own to worry about.

You have to remind yourself that there was another reason you came here to talk to him. You need him to forgive you, so keep it civil.

“Well, either way, I’m sorry.” You manage to keep your tone remorseful.

He stares at you for a long moment, arms folded over his chest and chin jutting out defiantly as he considers your words.

“Ok,” is all he says, shrugging once. He starts to walk away from you, back towards the doors of the gym.

“Wait, Billy,” you say, moving quickly to follow him.

“Please can you stop booking out the gym on my days?” Your tone borders on pleading.

He turns back to you, cocking his head to one side in mock confusion. Squints at you.

“I’m sorry, your days?”

“Yeah, Tuesdays and Thursdays,” you clarify for him, even though he knows full well what you meant. “I agreed it with Matt. My team gets those days; you get Wednesdays and Fridays.”

He licks his lips and leans in towards you.

“Well, Matt’s not the captain anymore; I am.” He’s watching your face closely as he speaks. You notice his eyes flick to your lips before they move back up to meet your gaze. “So that no longer stands.”

You exhale slowly, letting go of the breath you had been holding. This conversation is not going the way I planned, at all.

“Surely we can come to some sort of arrangement?”

He takes another half step closer so that his face is only a few inches from yours. You try not to breathe him in.

“I would love to make an ‘arrangement’ with you,” he says suggestively; his tone makes you think he might not just be talking about basketball practice, “but I’m not really in the mood.” He backs away from you slightly.

This must be his way of punishing me for Saturday. I can’t believe he’s being so petty!

He goes to walk away from you again.

“Billy, please.” You go to reach out and touch his arm but think better of it, dropping your hand back to your side. You hate grovelling to him, but you’re running out of options. “My team can’t practice on the forecourt for the rest of the season; there aren’t even any hoops out there! If you really have to practise on Tuesday and Thursdays can’t we work it out so that we each get one day in the gym and one day on the forecourt? Or you could let me have Wednesdays instead?” You’re desperately listing off your remaining options, just praying he’ll agree to one of them. “Please, I need something to work with here!” He smiles at you but it’s not friendly.

“Sorry Princess,” he puts emphasis on the new nickname, and you feel your face screw up in disgust of it, “your team might need the practice more than us, but as the only ones with any real chance of making it to the finals, we should get priority,” he says smugly.

How dare he?! We are every bit as good as them!

That’s it, to Hell with being civil!

“Well, you can’t stop me if I book the gym out before you,” you say petulantly, seething at his comment. He thinks he’s won, but he hasn’t. I’ll show him! I’ll just have to get here for as soon as the office opens. There’s no way he’d get here that early.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he scoffs.

“Oh, it’s on, Hargrove. It is on.”

You start stomping away up the corridor but he calls after you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says. You whip back around, scowling. “Nice scarf.”

His eyes meet yours and instantly you understand. He knows that underneath the patterned piece of material around your neck, is the mark that he left on you.

He laughs at your stunned expression, like a smug asshole, then heads back into the gym, leaving you standing there in the corridor, totally lost for words.

Chapter 4

------------

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alagalaska · 5 years ago

Text

It’s On!- Chapter One

Please note: this chapter was edited on 17th June 2022. If you read it before this date, please make sure you reread before moving onto chapter two, otherwise it won’t make sense. Thank you!

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem! Reader

A/N: This is for @lets-hargroove’s Valentine’s Writing Challenge, thanks for letting me take part bbe! I had so much fun writing this and I really hope you guys enjoy it. Please like, comment or reblog to let me know what you think!

Prompt: Enemies to Lovers trope

MASTERLIST // SERIES MASTERLIST

Disclaimer: Full disclaimer in series masterlist but please don’t steal/ copy my work, plagiarism is a crime!

Chapter warnings: swearing, smoking, my limited knowledge of basketball, brief mention of symptoms leading up to a panic attack (may be triggering for some, please read with caution).

Word count: 9,912

——————————————

It’s Monday morning. You drive into the school parking lot in your faded red Vauxhall Astra, tapping your fingers against the steering wheel in time to the beat. The Cindy Lauper cassette you had bought at the weekend blasts out of the stereo.

You weave your way through the lanes of cars, singing along to the music. Pulling up to your usual spot, you dance around in your seat as you shift into reverse and start backing into the space.

“Girls, they wanna have fu-un, oh-oh, girls just wanna have- Crap!” Your foot abruptly finds the brake.

You’ve only just noticed that the car on your right is parked at an angle, so that its back end is sticking out into your space. Shit, that was close. You turn down the music slightly and squint into your wing mirror at the available room. Not a chance I’ll fit in there.

Sighing in frustration, you pull back out of the space and search for another one.

When you eventually jump out of your car, you check your wristwatch. Luckily you’ll still have time to make a detour to the office on your way to class. You walk past the car that’s blocking your usual parking space, glaring at it as you go. Annoyingly, it’s a nice car; a Chevy Camaro, dark blue. Shame its driver parks like a douche, you think.

------

“Morning, Amber,” you greet the receptionist cheerily as you enter through the door of the school office. You stop in front of the desk, smiling brightly at the young woman, not much older than you. She looks over the top of her large glasses at you, blue eye shadow painted right up to her brows. “I’d like to book the gym for after school tomorrow please.”

“‘Fraid it’s already been booked,” she tells you matter-of-factly, reaching for the clipboard with the room bookings on. Her oversized bangles slide down her arm as she picks it up, clunking together noisily.

“By who?” you ask her. Tuesday was one of your days, everyone knew that.

She glances down at it, at arm’s length.

“Boys’ Basketball,” she reads disinterestedly then turns it round for you to look at. You take it from her, holding it in both hands, disbelievingly.

What the hell?

Of all the teams to steal your slot, you thought they’d be the least likely. When you took over as captain for the girls’ basketball team, you’d made an arrangement with the boys’ captain; you’d get the gym for practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays and they’d get it Wednesdays and Fridays. And that’s how it had been since.

You frown at the initials scrawled in the box where yours would usually be; ‘B.H.’

They aren’t the captain’s initials.

“Can I book it for Wednesday?” You ask.

“You know the rules,” she says, without taking her eyes off the magazine that’s resting on her lap, poorly concealed by the edge of the desk, “you can’t book out rooms any earlier than the day before and it’s first come, first serve.”

“But, they stole my slot, I need it on Wednesday,” you attempt to argue.

“Then come back and book it tomorrow,” she says pointedly, dabbing the tip of one of her manicured fingers against her tongue and turning the page of her Cosmo with it.

When you don’t move, she slowly raises her gaze to look at you over the top of her glasses again. She chews on the wad of gum in her mouth, staring at you expectantly, as if to say ‘Are we done here?’

You sigh in defeat and put the clipboard back on her desk. She lowers her eyes back to the magazine and adjusts her position in her chair.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you chirp with fake enthusiasm. You curse her under your breath as you push the door open and step into the corridor, now bustling with students on their way to first period.

------

You stop at your locker on the way to English. Nancy is waiting there for you, as usual, with her back resting against the front of her locker, next to yours. She looks particularly doe-like today, with her tawny hair clipped back delicately at the front, framing her heart-shaped face. Steve leans over her, whispering in her ear. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

Nancy glances up the corridor in your direction then pushes gently against his chest with her hand when she sees you approaching.

“I’ll catch you later,” He says to her. He gives her a lingering kiss on the lips then turns to head up the corridor for his first lesson. He glances back over his shoulder to wave at you both then carries on, smoothing his hand through his hair as he goes.

“Hey,” Nancy greets you happily.

You drop your bag to the floor, between your feet, nudging it gently with the toe of your shoe until it sits upright on its own. “Hi.”

“You have a good weekend?” She asks you. The hinges of her locker squeak as she pulls it open.

“Yeah, you?” You reply automatically.

You fiddle distractedly with the dial of your locker, lining the numbers up in the wrong order a couple of times before getting it right.

“Yeah, thanks; it was a shame about the rain though. Didn’t get to do a whole lot, you know, studied mostly.” She smiles to herself.

A crease slowly forms in her brow as she watches the way you’re grabbing books and shoving them into your bag with more force than is necessary. “You ok?”

You shut your locker and look at her.

She’s wearing a light blue button-up cardigan that compliments her eyes. Her cheeks are still flushed slightly pink from her encounter with Steve.

“Yeah, sorry,” you say. “I just tried to book out the gym for practice tomorrow but the guy’s team have booked it.”

“What?” She stares at you, her eyes wide. “But we always have it on Tuesdays.” She leans a shoulder against the locker, her arms folded over the books she’s holding. She frowns. “What are we gonna do?”

You sigh.

“What can we do? They booked it first and it’s ‘first come, first serve,’” you mock Amber’s bored, nasally tone.

“Ugh,” Nancy groans, sharing your frustration.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have minded so much if they’d just asked to swap days. Now I have to try and rearrange with everyone last minute.” You heave your bag strap onto your shoulder and start off in the direction of your classroom.

“Well, I can’t do Wednesday,” she cuts in quickly, hurrying to match your stride. “I’m seeing Steve after school.” She glances at you apologetically.

“But you see him in school, is that not enough?” You ask, trying- if only half-heartedly- not to sound annoyed.

“I’m sorry, but he’s taking me to see a movie. We haven’t had a proper date in ages; I’d feel bad if I cancelled on him. And besides,” she continues, “Both Ashley and Margo can’t make Wednesday either; they have detention.”

“Oh yeah,” you sigh, remembering.

You knew it was too last minute to hope everyone would be free. You yourself have a study group on Wednesday anyway which you should probably go to.

You already knew Friday would be no good; most of the girls had other commitments, which is why you never practised then. Although you would have been willing to sacrifice your plans for the sake of training, you knew you couldn’t expect everyone else to do the same; and there was no way to get Ashley and Margo out of detention anyway.

You reach the room you have English in and take your seats over by the window on the far side of the room.

Once you’re settled in your chair with your books on the desk in front of you, your eyes drift to the outside.

“Wait, what about the forecourt?” You suggest to Nancy, pointing through the window at the expanse of grey asphalt.

“What about it?” she asks, following your finger with her eyes until she too is staring out into the dreary gloom.

“We could practice out there tomorrow; that way we can still have two sessions this week and no one has to cancel their plans,” you explain.

A gust of wind blows through the bare branches of the trees and you fight back the urge to shiver. It’s certainly not ideal, but you could put up with it this one time.

“You’re kidding,” Nancy says. It’s a statement, not a question. She looks at you; takes in your expression. “Y/N, there’s no Basketball hoops on the forecourt.” She gives a small laugh, like the whole concept is ridiculous to her.

“Well, we can still practice manoeuvres,” you say as the teacher bustles into the room.

Nancy just looks at you sceptically. You already know that the rest of the team is going to hate the idea.

------

Later that day, at lunch break, you’re proven right. You enter the cafeteria and head for the table where the whole girls’ basketball team is sitting, in the top left hand corner of the room. It was usual for you all to meet at lunch time on Mondays, to discuss your training for the following day. As you walk over, Nancy looks up and catches your eye. She stands and quickly hurries over to you as you’re approaching, meeting you half-way. She leans into your side as you continue walking towards the table, slowing your pace.

“Just FYI,” she says in a hushed voice, “I may have mentioned your plan for practice tomorrow, and let’s just say, it did not go down well, sorry.” She glances at you with regret. “Ashley’s already kicked off.” You glance at the table to see Ashley watching you both approaching, as Jessica witters away in her ear.

“Just thought I’d warn you,” Nancy says.

Great. Now you wish you’d just gone and eaten your lunch in your car, alone.

“Thanks Nance.” You give her a tight smile. “This’ll be fun,” you add under your breath.

Nancy slips back into her seat between Molly and Margo and continues chewing daintily on her sandwich.

You circle the table, choosing to perch on the end of the bench. When your bum’s not even halfway to the seat, Ashley pipes up.

“So what’s all this about us practising outside tomorrow?” She crosses her arms and leans them on the edge of the table.

You suppress a sigh, placing your bag on the table in front of you and pull out your lunch. Before you can answer, she continues.

“We’ve got a game coming up. How are we supposed to practice without hoops?” She casts a look around at the other team members. Jessica nods in agreement.

You remember competing with Ashley to become Captain when the old one graduated. She’s not really ever forgiven you for being chosen over her. Sometimes you’re convinced she thinks she is the Captain, with the way she speaks to you.

You try to keep your tone calm as you reply. “The boys’ team stole our slot in the gym for tomorrow and the only other available space is outside,” you explain, addressing everyone at the table. Molly, your forward, starts whining about the cold, but you continue over her.

“And just because there’s no hoops on the forecourt, that doesn’t mean we can’t practice. Tomorrow we will be focusing on circuit training and manoeuvres, which are both still vital to help everyone prepare for the game.” You glance pointedly at Ashley. Unusually, she looks like she’s biting her tongue, scowling moodily at you from across the table.

“Guys, it’s one session,” you remind them. “I’m sure we can all just suck it up for two hours. And, unless you can find a way to get out of detention on Wednesday,” you say, addressing Ashley directly, “it’s our only option.”

“Well, I’m wearing my coat for the whole session, and you can’t stop me,” Molly chimes in. You don’t bother to respond.

There’s a flurry of conversation, amongst which you can hear various members of your team voicing their many complaints.

You meet Nancy’s eyes across the table and she offers you a shrug, as if to say ‘what can you do?’

------

Between fifth and sixth period the same day, you’re stood around your locker with Nancy, Steve and one of Nancy’s friends, Tina. Tina is in the middle of animatedly telling you a story about a party she went to the other night, when she realises you’re not paying her any attention.

“Hey, what’s up wi-” she cuts off mid-sentence when she sees what’s drawn your eyes.

You’re busy watching a guy walking up the corridor towards you. The pair of you stare, quite blatantly, as he approaches. He has an angular jawline and tanned skin. His dark blonde hair is styled into a mullet and hangs to his shoulders. He’s wearing fitted jeans, a white shirt tucked into the waistband and undone at the chest, and a denim jacket.

Noticing that he’s got your attention, he smiles confidently and winks at you as he passes. You lean back against your locker, clutching your books to your chest. It feels like all the air has been sucked from your lungs.

“Who is that?” you ask nobody in particular, your eyes following him as he continues up the corridor. Damn, those jeans fit him real well, you think, as your gaze lingers on his ass and thighs. As he turns the corner at the end of the hall he looks back over his shoulder, locking eyes with you. His face breaks into another grin as he catches you staring, then he disappears from view.

“That’s Billy, he transferred from Cali a couple weeks ago,” Tina explains, sounding breathless. “People are already calling him the new king of Hawkins High.”

Steve scoffs loudly at that.

“I haven’t seen him before,” you say. You’re certain you would have remembered if you had.

“Yeah, he doesn’t show up for class a whole lot. I think we’re supposed to have Chem with him,” she says.

“Y/N, please don’t tell me you have the hots for him?” Nancy asks, noticing the way your eyes keep flitting back up the corridor. You spot a group of girls further up the hall that are all huddled together, giggling amongst themselves. You’re obviously not the only one who had noticed Billy.

“He’s already made out with half the school,” she over exaggerates, closing her locker, with a disgusted wrinkle of her nose.

“Oh come on, Nance, you’ve got to admit, he’s gorgeous,” Tina says dreamily, twisting the end of her ponytail round her finger.

“If you like that kind of thing,” Nancy shrugs, aware that Steve is paying particularly close attention. “He’s not my type,” she adds, giving Steve’s arm a reassuring touch. Kisses his cheek for good measure.

“Yeah, he’s a total jerk, Y/N,” Steve agrees.

But as you shut your locker and head to your final lesson, you can’t help but glance in the direction Billy headed again, completely mystified by him.

———————————————

You throw your bag down onto the desk and drop into your seat, next to your best friend, Heather Holloway.

It’s Wednesday and, like usual, you’d just popped into the office to book the gym for Thursday after school, only to find out that the boys’ team have booked it, again.

“Woah, who pissed you off this morning?” Heather asks from beside you. She surveys you with a raised brow, her brown hair illuminated from behind by the shaft of sunlight coming through the window.

Typical that it would be nice weather today, after your abysmal training session outside yesterday. The team had looked miserable the whole time and had complained at every opportunity. Molly, as promised, had worn her puffy coat zipped right up to her chin and made a point of shivering dramatically every time you glanced in her direction.

You flip open your bag and start pulling out your notebook.

“Is it that obvious, huh?”

“With that scowl plastered on your face? Er, yeah,” she laughs.

“The guys’ team stole my slot for basketball practice,” you tell her, rifling in your bag for a pen.

“Again?” she asks you, surprised.

“Yeah. Goddammit,” you mutter to yourself, blindly shoving items out of the way with your hand, feeling around the bottom of your bag. You were trying not to let this whole thing with basketball practice affect your mood, but it was starting to become a challenge.

Your fingers finally fumble over a pen and you grasp it, pulling it out of your bag and dropping it on top of your notebook.

“We’ve never had this problem before. Maybe Matt needed to swap days this week but just forgot to ask me?” you say, thinking out loud. Yeah, that seems like a reasonable explanation. Annoying as it is, this is the first time this has happened since you’d struck up your little bargain with him. It’s probably only fair to give him the benefit of the doubt.

At that moment, Mr. Lawrence, the Math teacher, bumbles into the room, cleaning his glasses on a cloth, his satchel squashed awkwardly under one arm.

“Didn’t you hear?” Heather asks. “Matt’s not captain anymore.”

Mr Lawrence clears his throat for everyone’s attention, standing behind his desk, his glasses now squeezed once more onto his wide face.

“What? Since when?” Your surprised voice cuts through the room just as the rest of the class settles into silence.

The teacher glances at you and you lower your eyes to the front of your notebook, embarrassed. Heather giggles quietly beside you.

“Right then guys and gals,” he addresses the class, “we will be continuing from last week. If you could all please open your books and copy down what I’m about to write on the blackboard.” He pulls out some chalk and starts writing out an equation, glancing down at his notes periodically as he does.

“What happened to Matt?” You whisper to Heather out of the corner of your mouth, watching your teacher’s back to see if he reacts. She leans closer to you, replying in a hushed voice.

“He broke his ankle or something, they replaced him last week.”

That explains the unfamiliar initials you’d seen on the booking schedule. B.H.

“So who’s the new captain then?” You start half-heartedly copying down the equation. You scribble out a mistake and correct it.

“I dunno,” Heather shrugs, frowning. “I thought they were gonna pick Tommy, but they didn’t,” she tells you. “Apparently they chose someone who joined really recently. Carol was furious about it.”

You thought Tommy would have been the first choice for Captain, too. Everyone was always raving about how he was the best on the team, ever since Steve stopped playing.

Now it makes sense why their schedule had suddenly started changing; if the person who took over as captain wasn’t on the team before, they might not know about your arrangement. Either that, or they were choosing to ignore it. And as the rest of the team all knew and were accustomed to what days you used the gym, you were starting to think it might be the latter.

“Hey, if it’s bothering you, why don’t you just go to their next practice?” she suggests with a smile. “See if you can chat to them about it.”

As usual, Heather was right. You should go, if only to introduce yourself to the new captain. Maybe politely point out to him that he’s been stealing your days in the gym, if he didn’t already realise that. You had to do something. You’re pretty sure your team would eat you alive if they had to endure another week of training outside.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll go talk to him tomorrow. Thanks Heather.” You smile warmly at her.

“Y/N and Heather,” Mr. Lawrence looks over his shoulder at the pair of you. “I take it you’ve finished copying this down?”

You both murmur apologies, Heather hurrying to pick up her pen, and fall into silence for the rest of the lesson.

——

At lunchtime, you purposely wait to join your team’s table until five minutes before the bell is due to ring for next period. You bite your lip as you approach the table.

“Look, I hate this just as much as you guys do,” you say in response to the unhappy looks and various disgruntled noises you receive from them all, after explaining the situation.

“I’m not built for the cold,” Molly winges. You remember her from yesterday, oversized coat hanging to her bare knees; red and chafed from the cold.

“This is ridiculous,” Ashley says to Margo, not so subtly. You ignore her.

“It’s ok, I’m going to talk to their new captain after practice tomorrow, see what’s going on. I’m sure we can all endure one more practice outside,” you tell them. Luckily, the bell rings, drowning out any more complaints.

Everyone starts gathering up their debris from lunch; some carrying trays, others shoving empty food wrappers into nearby trash cans as they disperse.

“You better get it sorted,” Nancy says, as you make your way out of the cantine together. “Ashley’s talking about mutiny already.” Fucking great, just what I need.

She sees your expression. “Don’t worry about it though, I’m sure you’ll figure it out tomorrow.” She smiles kindly at you.

You hope she’s right.

——

After school, you attend your study period. You’re in the school library, biology textbook open in front of you and a pen between your teeth, as you massage the headache forming over your brow. Your notes from class don’t make any sense at all and you’ve spent more time trying to decipher them than you’ve actually spent revising anything. There’s not long left of the session, so you get up from your seat, deciding to waste the last few minutes looking for a book about Basketball strategies which you have been meaning to check out.

You browse the shelves, one eye on the clock by the door.

The book you’re looking for isn’t in the space where it should be, so you head back to your seat just as everyone is packing up. The other students bustle around you, eager to leave. Once you’ve grabbed your stuff, you head over to the Librarian’s desk, to see if they have any more copies.

You watch as she flicks through the file of book cards from all the books currently on loan. When she finds the one she’s looking for she pulls it out of the file and holds it up for you to see.

“Sorry dear, it was loaned out yesterday,” she says, regretfully. You take it from her and stare at the initials on the card. In that moment, your vision shrinks down to a pinprick, where the only thing you can see is B.H., scrawled in the same messy handwriting as on the booking schedule in the office.

You hold the card in front of your face for a good ten seconds, just blinking at it, until the Librarian reaches over and gently plucks it from your hand.

“Are you ok deary?” She asks, concerned.

You grip your bag strap tightly, mumbling a “yeah, I’m fine,” as you head for the door.

A small bubble of anger is rising in the pit of your stomach as you pace the corridor outside of the library.

What Nancy had said earlier, about Ashley, had riled you. If it was true, then you’re sure Ashley would be persistent in her attempts to overthrow you as captain. She needed very little reason to try anyway, but now that everyone else was in a bad mood with you, you’re certain she wouldn’t be short of supporters. And here he was, just rubbing your nose in it.

No. It will be fine, you think, taking a deep breath through your nose. I’ll just go talk to him tomorrow, like I planned, and this whole thing will be sorted. You exhale.

Still feeling rattled, but calm enough to drive home, you leave the school.

It’s only when you eventually reach your house that you realise you didn’t even thank the librarian for her help.

———————————————

On Thursday morning, you wake up late. You sit bolt upright, in a panic, eyes searching for your alarm clock.

“Oh, crap!” you curse. You must have forgotten to set it the night before. You scramble out from under the covers and tumble out of bed.

You hurriedly pull off your pyjamas and throw on the first clothes you lay your eyes on.

Once you’ve dressed and quickly checked yourself over in the mirror, you race out into the corridor. Your sister’s bedroom door is directly opposite yours, closed as usual. You slow down, leaning your forehead against the wood. “See you later,” you whisper.

As you hurry through to the kitchen, your stomach growls angrily at you, but you don’t have time to silence it with breakfast. You hear your mother’s bedroom door open from the other end of the hall. You glance in her direction, your hand already closed around the handle of the back door. She’s groggily pulling on her dressing gown, her hair dishevelled from sleep.

“Bye Ma,’' you call out to her.

She shouts hoarsely after you, “Drive safe!” Her voice is muffled on the second word, as you let the door fall shut behind you.

You’re just beginning to back your car up when the door of your house is pulled open, and your mum appears on the threshold, blinking into the sunlight. You stop reversing and watch, as she shuffles across the driveway towards you. She’s holding your gym bag in one outstretched hand, the other clutching at her robe to hold it closed.

You wind the window down for her to post your gym kit through. It drops onto the passenger’s seat with a soft thud.You’re about to drive off again, but she closes her hands over the lip of the window, stopping you.

“Drive safe,” she repeats. She catches your gaze and holds it, her eyes bloodshot and red.

“I will Ma,” you say quietly. “Bye.”

And with that, she lets go of your window, allowing you to pull away.

You drive slightly quicker than usual, eager not to miss any of your Biology lesson. Your study period yesterday had only cemented the fact that you can’t afford to fall any more behind than you already are.

When you finally make it to the parking lot, you make a beeline for your usual space, only to find the same car from Monday is parked to the left of it again. It looks like the driver had their head shoved so far up their ass they couldn’t see where they were parking, making it impossible for you to park in your space, again.

“Goddammit!” you growl in frustration, slapping a palm against your steering wheel.

If you had more time, you might consider writing an angry note and sticking it to the windscreen; but sadly, and probably for the best, you don’t have enough spare minutes to fulfil your fantasy and settle instead for glaring at the Camaro as you pass it, in search of another space.

By the time you’ve found a place to park and run through the school to the room you have Biology in, you’re almost fifteen minutes late, earning a disapproving look from the teacher. Great start to the day.

——

At the end of the lesson you gather your things and head for the door.

“Y/N,” the teacher, Mr. Kaminsky, beckons you over to his desk, “a word.”

Oh no.

“Look, sir,” you say, fiddling with the strap of your bag, “I’m sorry about being late, my alarm didn’t go off and I…” You trail off. “It won’t happen again.”

He smiles kindly at you, his greying moustache twitching upwards at the corners. He pauses before he speaks, waiting for the room to empty.

“You’re a good student,” he tells you, “but I’ve noticed the quality of your work is starting to slip again.” Oh. His voice is serious, but gentle. He gives you a sympathetic look, then moves round to the front of his desk, sitting on the edge of it. You focus your eyes on the floor in front of him.

“You know you can always ask me if there’s anything you don’t understand in lessons. It’s what I’m here for,” he says reassuringly. “Have you been going to the study sessions after school that I recommended?”

“Yes, sir.” Your voice is quiet.

He pauses, as if waiting for you to say more. When you don’t, he clears his throat and continues. “And you know there’s the school counsellor too…” he hesitates, glancing at you, as if to determine your reaction. “…if you want someone to talk to about anything that might be affecting your work…”

It’s not a question. His words hang in the air between you like an invitation.

He’s watching you carefully. You notice the box of tissues placed on the edge of his desk next to him and wonder if it’s a coincidence that they’re there.

“What you’ve been through, Y/N, it’s-”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Kaminsky,” you say quickly, cutting him off. “I’ll bear that in mind.” You swallow hard, trying to disperse the lump that’s forming in your throat.

He offers you another kind smile, a sympathetic crease in his brow, as you turn for the door, eager to leave. A thought stops you in your tracks.

“Sir, you won’t tell my mum, will you?” you ask, slowly turning back to look at him. Your fingers are fiddling with your bag strap again.

“No,” he says, “But, if the situation doesn’t improve, I won’t have any other choice.” His eyes are filled with what you immediately recognise as pity.

“I understand,” you manage, forcing a tight smile. You can feel your throat starting to close up and you leave quickly, without saying another word.

Instead of heading to your next lesson you hurry towards the nearest exit, trying to suppress the familiar rising sense of panic in your chest.

You push your way through the front doors of the school, the tightness in your throat making it hard to breathe.

Please not now, you plead internally, please not here. You look around desperately for somewhere secluded to hide.

The bike shed is just off to your left. You make a dash for it, slotting yourself into the narrow alley behind it.

Once out of view, you press your back into the wall of corrugated metal, gasping for air. You try forcing yourself to regulate your breathing. In… out… in… out.

Your eyes sting and you squeeze them shut. You remember your sister’s words, hearing them clearly in your mind, ‘Breathe with me. In through the nostrils, out through the mouth. In through the nostrils, out through the mouth.’

You do this until your shoulders start to relax and your breathing slows, coming and going in long shudders. The tight feeling in your throat starts to lessen and you lean your head back against the wall of the bike shed, relieved. You continue taking deep breaths through your nose.

Then you realise you can smell tobacco. You open your eyes and lift your head away from the wall, looking for the source. The air around you is hazy with smoke. You startle, seeing a figure at the end of your little alleyway. Then you recognise the dark blonde mullet, hanging around his denim-covered shoulders and your stomach drops.

It’s the guy you had seen in the corridor at the start of the week. He’s leaning against the wall, smoking. He watches you closely as he takes a drag of his cigarette.

“Sorry,” you mumble, quickly turning your face away from him as you wipe at it with your sleeve. “I didn’t realise there was anyone here.” Why? Why did it have to be him? Typical that the best looking guy in school would be here to witness you falling to pieces. Just great.

He slowly releases a cloud of smoke then pushes off from the wall. “You look like you could use one of these,” he says, offering you his pack of Marlboro Reds.

You laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “I’m good, thanks.” You sniff and wipe at your face again, avoiding his eyes. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” You ask, wondering why he’d just stand there in silence whilst you had a melt down.

“Didn’t want to startle you,” he says with a shrug. His voice is slightly muffled by the cigarette between his lips; the end, bobbing up and down as he speaks, dropping ash. His answer surprises you. “You ok now?” He asks, his brows creasing as he looks you over.

“Er, yeah, thanks. I’m fine,” you say awkwardly, trying not to make a big deal out of it.

There’s a moment of silence as he slides the pack into the back pocket of his jeans. Say something, your brain screams at you. Say something!

“You’re the new guy; Billy, right?” You ask, looking up at him through your damp eyelashes.

He takes the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger and inhales deeply.

“That’s me,” he says, letting the smoke leave his mouth with his words. He leans back against the wall of the bike shed, next to you. “And you are?” He licks his bottom lip and bites down on it.

“I’m Y/N,” you say, fidgeting with the sleeve of your jacket. “I bet I made a great first impression,” you add, sarcastically, gesturing to yourself. You give a nervous laugh.

His eyes roam over you.

“It’s not as bad as you think,” he says, his face breaking into a slow grin. Oh.

You look down at your feet, smiling at his comment. You hear him take another drag of his cigarette and feel him watching you through the cloud of smoke as he exhales.

You look up shyly at him, clearing your throat. “So, how are you liking Hawkins?”

He huffs a laugh, running his tongue along his teeth as he glances away towards the opening of the alleyway, then back to you. “It’s different to California.”

“It’s ok,” you say, knowingly, “You can say it’s a shithole. I get it.”

He laughs again and you feel your shoulders relax a little more.

“It really is,” he agrees.

You look back down at the floor as a comfortable silence settles between you.

“You’re friends with that Harrington kid, right?” he asks after a moment. You notice his nostrils flare as he exhales smoke through them.

“Steve? Not really,” you say, honestly. “I’m friends with his girlfriend, Nancy. I only really know him through her.”

You cast your mind back to when you saw Billy in the hallway on Monday; you had been standing with Steve and Nancy, which is where he must have gotten the impression that you and Steve were friends.

Steve had told you that Billy is ‘a total jerk,’ so he must know Billy well enough to have passed judgement on him already. He seems nice though, you think, making a mental note to ask Steve what the beef is there.

Then you remember what Tina had said.

“I think we have Chemistry together,” you say, gesturing between the two of you.

Billy raises an eyebrow at you and smirks. “Oh, you think so?” The way his voice lowers, sends a shiver through you and you hope he doesn’t notice.

“As in, the subject,” you add quickly. “We’re in the same Chem class together…” you mumble, letting your sentence trail off.

Whilst you’re wishing for the ground to swallow you whole, Billy takes another pull on his cigarette, laughing at your flustered state.

“Relax,” he says, “I knew what you meant.” You give a quiet sigh of relief.

Then a thought occurs to you.

“Shit, what time is it?!” You check your wristwatch. “We’re really late for second period.” You bend down and hurriedly pick your bag up off the floor.

“Yeah, and?” He makes no attempt to move.

You laugh at him, shaking your head at his ‘couldn’t care less’ attitude.

“I should-” you hesitate. “I should really go. I’m in enough trouble as it is.” You don’t want the conversation to end but you can’t afford to skip class; especially after Mr. Kaminsky’s ultimatum.

He raises his eyebrows at you.

You hoist the strap of your bag back onto your shoulder then look up at him. “It was nice meeting you,” you say, smiling.

“Likewise,” he says, his face slowly breaking into another grin.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” you say, stalling yourself at the mouth of the alley.

“I’m counting on it.” He licks his bottom lip then takes another drag on his cigarette.

You turn to leave, as casually as you can, smiling stupidly to yourself once your back is to him.

You’re glad no one’s around to see you slipping back out into the open; because they could easily get the wrong idea. You’d heard about couples sneaking back here to make out.

You shiver as you step out from behind the cover of the bike shed, the cold wind hitting you.

‘I’m counting on it,’ you repeat his words in your head, your stomach fluttering, as you hurry back up to the school, smiling from ear to ear.

As you approach the front doors, they open.

“Y/N?” Heather hangs out of the entrance. “Where have you been?! I convinced Mr. Lawrence to let me come look for you.”

You stop in front of her and realise she’s looking at you funny. “Why are you smiling like that?” She asks.

“Like what?” Act natural. She pulls you inside by the arm.

“Ugh,” her nose wrinkles as she leans in to sniff your hair, “you stink like an ashtray.”

“Gee, thanks,” you say jokingly, swatting at her half-heartedly with one arm, like you would a fly.

You make to walk in the direction of your classroom but she rounds on you. “Wait, were you smoking?!”

“What? No!” You laugh at her accusation. “Of course not.”

“Well, is your watch broken or something? What were you doing out there?” She gestures to the door with her chin, eyeing you suspiciously.

“I didn’t feel well. I just went to get some fresh air,” you tell her. It’s not a lie.

“Oh,” her expression softens, “Are you ok?” You hear the concern in her voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine now.”

As if on queue, the door clicks open behind you both and you glance over your shoulder to see Billy stepping inside. He looks up, smiling when he sees you.

“Hi again,” he says.

You laugh nervously, aware that Heather is watching you with great interest.

“Hi,” you greet him, ignoring her.

The three of you stand there awkwardly for what is probably only a couple of seconds, but boy does it feel like longer than that.

“This is my friend, Heather,” you say quickly, “Heather, this is Billy; he’s new.”

Heather looks from you, to Billy, then back again.

“And how do you two know each other?” she asks innocently, smiling a bit too sweetly. She can be such a little shit sometimes.

Billy cuts in before you can say anything. “We have Chemistry together,” he says, repeating your words from earlier, giving you a shit-eating grin. You try to keep yourself from smiling.

“Well, this has been great,” you say quickly, feeling heat rapidly flooding your face, “But we should really be getting to class,” you look pointedly at Heather but she doesn’t seem to take the hint. You grab her by the arm.

“Bye,” you say to Billy, not even looking at him as you drag Heather away.

The pair of you round the corner, out of Billy’s eyeline.

“‘Didn’t feel well’, hmm?” She smirks at you, knowingly.

You stop walking and turn to face her. “I went outside for some fresh air and he was out there,” you explain. You can hear how defensive you sound.

“So that’s why you were looking all starry-eyed,” she says. She’s grinning teasingly at you. Don’t take the bait.

“What? Don’t be stupid,” you say, dismissively.

“Well, now you’re done flirting, we better get to class.” She starts nudging at your shoulders from behind, pushing you along the corridor.

“We weren’t flirting!” Your face breaks into a coy smile, because you know that’s not true.

“Yeah, sure, and I’m the Virgin Mary,” she scoffs. And with that, you let her pull you by the hand to what is left of your Math class.

——

At the end of the day, after another gruelling, and frankly miserable, training session outside in the cold, you head straight for the gym; determined to speak with the new captain of the boys’ team.

When you get there, still dressed in your gym shorts and school hoodie, with your denim jacket squeezed over the top for extra warmth, you push open the double doors to find the space empty. You stand there for a moment, wondering how you’d managed to miss them. You’d practically run here from the forecourt to make sure you were in time. They must have finished practice early.

They could still be in the changing rooms, you remind yourself, heading for the corridor that leads off the main gym area.

You stand outside of the mens’ locker-room for a minute or so, waiting for someone to come out then, getting impatient, you push open the door just a fraction and call through the gap.

“Hey, guys?”

No response.

“Anyone in here?” you call again, peeking into the room. There’s no one around that you can see. You enter.

You walk along the isles of lockers. “Hey!” you call again, even though it’s clear they’re all already gone.

“For fuck’s sake!” You slam your hand against the front of a locker. How the hell did I miss him?!

You rub at your stinging palm and turn around, heading for the door.

Your foot collides with something mid-step and you watch as a small metallic object slides across the floor in front of you. You bend down and pick it up.

It’s a silver zippo lighter, tarnished slightly and badly scratched on one side. You flick it open and check it still works, watching as the flame sparks to life. What kind of idiot dropped their lighter in here? you think to yourself, flipping it shut again and stashing it in the pocket of your jacket. You make a mental note to swing by the office on your way out of school and hand it in.

You let the door of the locker room swing shut behind you and stand in the corridor, not sure what to do with yourself. How is this kid everywhere but nowhere at the same time?! You slump back against the wall, feeling suddenly exhausted. It’s been such a long day. Especially after your almost-panic-attack this morning.

You close your eyes and hope to God you can track down a member of the boys’ basketball team before the weekend to find out who this B.H. guy is.

Summoning what little energy you have left, you push off from the wall and head home.

———————————————

Friday starts off almost exactly the same way as Thursday did, only it’s Chemistry you’re running late for this time.

You jog down the deserted corridor, your books clutched to your chest and your bag swinging wildly behind you. When you’re nearly at the classroom, you slow to a walk, allowing time for your breathing to adjust to normal. You round the corner and nearly stop in your tracks when you notice Billy coming from the opposite direction and heading straight for you.

He’s wearing a light brown, high-neck top today under his denim jacket, the fabric stretched over his toned chest. He doesn’t look like he’s in any hurry to get to class. His face breaks into a grin when he sees you, flashing his straight white teeth.

You’re surprised that he turned up and you wonder if it has anything to do with you telling him that you’re in this class. No, don’t be silly, you tell yourself, it’s just a coincidence.

“Hi,” He greets, his boots scuffing against the floor as he comes to a stop in front of you. He’s slowly chewing on a piece of gum, drawing your eyes to his mouth.

“Hey.”

“It’s Y/N, right?” You feel a flutter of excitement. He remembered my name!

“That’s me,” you reply, using his words from yesterday. He huffs out a laugh.

As much as you want to stand and talk to him, you’re also very aware that you’re still late for the lesson. “We should probably…” you say, taking a step towards the door.

“I got it,” He says, sliding in front of you and pushing the door open.

Everyone in the class looks up in unison at the sudden interruption, including the teacher, who pauses, chalk still raised to the board.

“Good of you both to finally turn up,” she says, turning her attention back to what she’s writing. “Please, take your seats. Quickly.”

Billy holds the door open for you with his body, leaving a narrow gap for you to squeeze past him into the classroom.

“Thanks,” you say quietly to him as you slip through the doorway. There’s an inch between you.

“You’re very welcome,” he says slowly, his voice in your ear as he leans in. He smells like the spearmint gum he’s chewing and, under that, tobacco.

You look away from his gaze, but not before you see him slowly lick his lips. Once you’re past him you walk swiftly to your desk, mumbling an apology to the teacher. Your cheeks are burning. You keep your eyes down, but you can feel the whole room still watching you; especially Tina, who is sat at the desk behind yours. You purposely don’t meet her eyes as you turn to sit down. Billy leisurely strolls to his desk, near the front of the class, letting the door fall shut behind him.

“Right, as I was saying, before we were interrupted…” the teacher continues, looking pointedly at you and Billy. She carries on explaining the chemical equation on the board.

Your eyes keep wandering to the back of Billy’s head and you can’t seem to concentrate on what it is the teacher is saying. As if he can hear your thoughts, Billy glances over his shoulder, his eyes finding yours. He throws you that same mischievous grin and you smile back at him, then quickly return your focus to your notebook on the desk in front of you. When you glance back up a second later, he’s facing the front of the class again.

You feel strangely giddy and realise you’re still smiling. You give your head a small shake, trying to snap yourself out of it, and focus your eyes back on the teacher.

——

The time whizzes by and when the bell rings to signal the end of the lesson, you look at your notes to find you’ve hardly written anything. You curse under your breath and start packing up your books, annoyed with yourself.

“I’ll wait for you in the hall,” Tina says, passing you, her bag already slung over her shoulder.

“Kay, see you in a sec,” you reply. You’re shoving your textbook back into your bag when a pair of boots stops beside you. You look at them, then up at their owner.

Billy stands, leaning on the desk beside yours, his palms flat against the tabletop.

“Oh, hey,” you greet him, standing up from your seat.

“So, Y/N,” he says slowly, smiling in that way he does.

The classroom is nearly empty now, the last few students gathering their things. One girl near the front of the class is looking over her shoulder at you both as she tries to put her books away in her bag. She’s watching you with such interest that she keeps missing the opening of her Tote.

Billy pushes off from the desk, taking a step closer to you. “There’s a party tomorrow night,” he continues.

“Oh yeah, at Tammy’s house?” You’d been invited, but you never went to parties. You sling your bag strap over your shoulder and tuck your chair in.

“I’m gonna be there,” he says, as you both start moving towards the front of the classroom. “It’d be cool if you came.” He licks his bottom lip.

“Er, yeah, sure,” you say before you can stop yourself. “I mean, I should probably study instead, but yeah, ok.”

He laughs. You can imagine he’s not the sort of person who’d miss out on a party to study at home.

When you step into the corridor, Tina is leaning against the wall of the classroom, waiting for you. When she sees you exit with Billy, her eyes light up.

“I’ll see you there,” he says. You smile at him, adjusting your bag strap on your shoulder.

“Yeah, see you there..”

You watch him walk up the corridor, chewing on your bottom lip. Crap. You shouldn’t have said yes. There’s no way you’ll be allowed to go.

“Bye Billy!” Tina shouts after him. She rounds on you almost immediately. “What was all that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say.

She glares at you. “Yes you do! Spill!” She pulls you to one side by the elbow.

“Tina, we’re gonna be late for next period.”

“Well, you better talk fast then,” she says stubbornly, folding her arms over her chest.

“What’s going on?” Heather bounds up behind you excitedly.

“Y/N was just gonna tell me all about the conversation she just had with Billy,” she tells Heather.

“Billy?” Heather raises her eyebrows at you. “The hunk from Cali, again?” Her face breaks into a slow grin.

“They turned up to class together,” Tina adds, “Late!”

Heather looks at you, shocked.

You roll your eyes at them both. “There’s nothing to tell. We were both running late,” you shrug. “We met in the corridor, I swear!” you add, seeing the disbelieving looks they’re giving you.

“So what did he want just now?” Tina asks.

“He asked if I was going to Tammy’s party tomorrow night,” you say indifferently, like it’s no big deal.

“Oooh!” Heather claps her hands together excitedly and jumps up and down, her ponytail swinging behind her.

“Heather, stop,” you say, but you can’t help laughing. “He only asked if I was going. That’s it,” you tell them. You start walking away from them both, heading to your next lesson.

“And are you gonna go?” Tina asks after you. She looks like she wants to follow you, but you know her next class is in the opposite direction to the way you’re heading. “Well?!”

You grin at Heather as she falls into step beside you, the two of you leaving Tina behind.

“So?” Heather asks, once you’re out of earshot.

You bite your lip again. “I sort of told him I would,” you say.

She looks at you.

“Y/N,” she says seriously, “You know your mum will never let you.”

“I know,” you say quickly. You think for a moment, chewing on your lip again. “ I mean, I could just not tell her…”

“What?” Heather stops walking, placing her hand on your arm, pausing you. A small gaggle of students that were walking behind you have to swerve out of the way to avoid crashing into your backs. One of them shoots a glare at you over their shoulder.

“Oh come on, it’s not a big deal. You lie to your parents all the time,” you say dismissively, continuing on your way.

“Hey. I do not,” she says, trying to sound stern, but her smirk gives her away. “Well, look at you; Y/N Y/L/N, sneaking out to go to a party. And all for a boy, I’m so proud.”

It’s your turn to stop, faltering mid-step. “Wait a minute, this has got nothing to do with him!” Heather skips away from you, beaming brightly.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” she says disbelievingly. You hurry after her.

“It doesn’t! And besides, it’s not ‘sneaking out’ if I just tell her I’m somewhere else,” you add, suggestively tilting your head towards her.

Heather catches your meaning. “Oh, alright, use me as your scapegoat!” she says dramatically. Then her tone becomes more serious again, “but you do realise she will freak out if she finds out the truth?” She’s watching your face carefully.

“Of course I know that,” you say, trying to shrug off her comment. “That’s why we need to make sure she doesn’t find out,” you say, stopping in front of the door to your classroom. You can hear people still bustling around inside; the lesson hasn’t started yet.

Heather walks a little further, to the next room along. “Leave it with me,” she says, smiling widely at you, then disappears through the door of the classroom.

——

The rest of the day passes without much incident. Your attention wanders during lessons and you have to try your hardest to refocus. And, as much as you had denied it to Heather, you couldn’t lie to yourself. It had everything to do with a boy.

You normally would never even dream of lying to your mum, but there was something about Billy that made you feel ok about rebelling a little. He just seemed… exciting.

Without you even realising it, Billy had pretty much pushed all the business with the boys’ basketball team out of your mind altogether. That is, until you’re heading out of school and you spot Tommy heading towards the main doors.

Your brain suddenly sparks to life. Finally, a member of the basketball team! You couldn’t pass up this opportunity to find out who the new coach was. You hurry towards him, determined not to let him get away.

“Tommy!” You shout after him.

He glances over his shoulder in your general direction and seems surprised when he sees you trying to wave him over. He slows to a stop at the side of the crowded hall and waits for you to catch up with him.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” he asks when you reach him, his freckled face breaking into a smile.

“Hey Tommy,” you smile pleasantly, but you’re too eager to get to the point to worry about small talk. “So I hear you guys got a new captain?”

“Oh, Hargrove?” He says, “Yeah, you not met him yet?”

“Nah, I’ve been trying though,” you say, slotting your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “He’s a difficult guy to pin down-” you cut off as the knuckles of your right hand press against something cold and hard in your pocket. You pull it out and realise it’s the lighter you found in the gym the other day. You had forgotten all about it.

“Oh, hey, do you know if this belongs to anyone on the team?” You ask, showing it to Tommy on your outstretched palm.

He looks at it carefully. “Er, I dunno, maybe.” He shrugs.

One of the other guys from basketball appears over Tommy’s shoulder, smirking at you. You don’t know his name. He’s really tall; it’s easy to see why he was picked for the team.

“What does she want?” he asks Tommy, looking you over.

“She’s asking after Hargrove,” Tommy tells him, both of them talking as if you’re not standing right in front of them.

“Aren’t they all,” the second boy scoffs, rolling his eyes, his smirk gone. He sounds jealous. Then he notices the lighter in your hand. “You found his lighter.”

You look down at it. “This belongs to your new captain?” Of course it does.

“Yeah, I’ll give it back to him, he’s been looking for it.” The newcomer holds his hand out for the lighter but you close your fingers over your palm, not wanting to give it to him until they’ve given you the information you need. You withdraw your hand, holding it to your chest.

“What’s the deal with you guys practising on both our days this week?” You ask them.

“We don’t get a say,” Tommy tells you, putting his hands up defensively. “Captain decides, you know that; we just go along with it.”

“Yeah, you got a problem, you need to take it up with him,” the other guy chimes in, glancing at your hand with the lighter in it.

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” you complain. “Well, if you see him before I do, tell him to back off, yeah?” Probably not the most diplomatic thing you could have said, but you can feel yourself getting annoyed and their lack of empathy isn’t helping.

“Yeah, we’ll do that,” the tall guy says sarcastically. “I don’t even know what the big deal is, we only practised on Tuesday this week anyway,” he adds.

“What?!”

“You said we took both your sessions,” Tommy explains, “but we actually only practised on Tuesday this week.”

You see red.

“Then why did he book out the gym for Thursday as well?!” You yell at them.

Tall guy takes a step back.

“We were gonna practice then but he cancelled on the day,” Tommy says, like it’s no big deal. “Guess he had better things to do,” he smirks, getting a laugh from the other guy. You sense there’s some sort of in-joke there that you’re not privy to.

You continue to glare at him.

“Look, Y/N, there’s no point getting shitty with us; we can’t do anything about it, even if we wanted to,” Tommy shrugs.

“Ok, fine,” is all you say, storming away from them.

“Hey!” Tall guy shouts after you. “The lighter!”

You turn on the spot, passing the lighter between your hands, feeling the weight of it. “I’ll give it to him myself,” you bite at him. Yeah, you think, I’m gonna throw it at his head when I find out who he is. You chuckle darkly to yourself. Maybe that’ll knock some sense into him.

“Crazy bitch,” you hear the other guy saying to Tommy as you walk away. You have to fight the urge to march right back up to him, forcing yourself to continue out of the school building instead.

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath, climbing into your car and slamming the door shut. You sit still for a while, trying hard to take soothing breaths.

Well, at least I have a name now. But I’m not really any closer to sorting the problem out. And the news that you could have used the gym on Thursday after all, stings. Talk about rubbing salt in the wound! No wonder they weren’t in there when you went to talk to him. You unclench your fist and look down at the zippo for a moment, then shove it back into your pocket.

You were just going to have to hope that this Hargrove kid didn’t try to muscle in on your practice time next week as well; but you don’t want to even think about that right now.

In through the nose, out through the mouth; you repeat over and over in your head as you drive home for the weekend.

———————————————

Chapter 2

Posted on 7th February 2020. Edited on 17th June 2022.

205 notes · View notes

alagalaska · 5 years ago

Text

It’s On!- Chapter Two

Please note: chapter one was heavily edited on 17th June 2022. If you read it before that date, please make sure you reread before moving onto this chapter, otherwise it won’t make sense. Thank you!

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem! Reader

My Masterlist // Series Masterlist // Chapter One

A/N: This is for @lets-hargroove’s Valentine’s Writing Challenge, thanks for letting me take part bbe! I am so sorry it has taken me so long to get this one out! This story has started to evolve into something entirely different to what I had originally planned, which is why I decided to rewrite the first chapter in order to flow better with this part. I have had so much fun writing this and I really hope you guys enjoy it. Please like, comment or reblog to let me know what you think. If anyone would like to discuss this story with me or has any questions about the plot or the characters, please feel free to send me an ask or a message, I love hearing from you guys!

Prompt: Enemies to Lovers trope

Please do not steal/ copy my work, in part or in whole. Plagiarism is a crime!

Chapter warnings: swearing, smoking, underage drinking, drinking in general, some slight sexual references

Word count: 6,255

————

When you get home from school on Friday, you’re still riled from your encounter with Tommy and that other dick from the basketball team. You can’t quite believe how much this whole thing has dragged out. You had hoped you would have sorted it nearer the start of the week, but every time you tried to make any progress, you always ended up taking a step back; or at least, that’s what it felt like.

Standing in your kitchen, you listen for the tell tale sounds of your mum being home. The house is quiet, she must still be at work.

You decide that a relaxing shower is exactly what you need, hoping that the hot water will wash away your stress and the tension building in your back and shoulders.

Heading along the hall towards your bedroom, you pause just outside of your sister’s door. It’s shut.

“Hi. I’m home,” you say. You automatically take a step towards her room, leaning your forehead against the wood, your shoulders slumping forwards with exhaustion.

“I have had the worst week,” you sigh. Your bag strap slips off your shoulder and you let it fall to the carpet at your feet. “uuughhh.”

You turn around sluggishly, your feet feeling like they’re made of lead, and with your back against the door, slowly let yourself slide down it to join your bag on the floor.

“School is such bullshit at the moment,” you groan, closing your eyes and leaning your head back against the wood.

You can almost hear what your sister’s response would be, stop being so dramatic.

“I know, I know,” you say, huffing a quiet laugh. “I suppose it’s not all bad.” A smile subconsciously works its way onto your lips as you think of Billy.

“There’s this guy,” you start, lowering your voice, your smile brightening the corners of your words, “I think I might like him.” You think for a second and then correct yourself, “Ok, I definitely like him.”

You glance back down the hall in the direction of the kitchen, listening to make sure your mum still hasn’t come home yet.

“He’s going to be at this party tomorrow night and I said I’d go,” you confess. “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

You wait. No response.

“Yeah,” you let out a sigh, “that’s what I thought you’d say.” You sit in silence for a moment then slowly clamber to your feet.

You drag your bag across the floor by its strap and deposit it in your room, along with your shoes and jacket. Then you take one last glance at your sister’s door before continuing up the hall to the bathroom.

When your mum gets home from work, she comes in through the back door, roughly unzipping her coat.

“Hi,” she says, throwing the strap of her handbag over the back of one of the chairs at the dining table in the kitchen.

“Hi Ma’.”

You’re standing at one of the counters, freshly showered and dressed, chopping vegetables for dinner. She passes you and bends down, opening a cupboard under the sink and pulling out a bottle of wine. When you realise what she’s doing, you pause with the knife still in your hand, watching her. She reaches into one of the overhead cupboards for a wine glass.

You wish she’d look at you and meet your eyes. Wish she would acknowledge the disapproving look you’re giving her. But she doesn’t.

“I’m going to get changed,” she says, avoiding your gaze; and with that, she leaves the kitchen, taking the wine with her. You sigh to yourself and continue chopping.

——

Over dinner, your mum keeps glancing at you across the table as you push your food around on the plate with your fork. You don’t feel very hungry. You’ve been trying to think of a way to bring up Heather’s plan without it sounding suspicious.

“How was school?” your mum asks.

“Hmmm?” You look up from your plate distractedly; pulled from your thoughts.

She takes a long sip of her red wine, looking at you over the top of the glass. The almost empty bottle sits in front of her on the table.

You take a moment to process her question. “Yeah, fine,” you shrug.

Oh yeah, it was great, you think sarcastically, letting your eyes fall back to your plate. You make a point of spearing a piece of cold broccoli and chewing deliberately slowly.

“And how’s basketball going?”

“Yeah,” you say, not even bothering to look up, “great.” Where would you even start with that one?

“Have you got much homework to do over the weekend?” She asks, putting her glass down and picking her knife and fork up again to continue eating.

You pause with a forkful of pie halfway to your mouth.

“Actually, yeah,” you say, taking the opportunity she has unknowingly presented you with. “We got given an English assignment. I was going to ask, would it be alright if I stay at Heather’s house tomorrow night?”

Your mum glances up at you, like she’s about to say something, but you continue.

“I know she’s in a different class, but we got the same assignment and we thought we could work on it together.”

She watches you carefully as she finishes her mouthful of food. Please buy it, please say yes.

“Will her parents be there?” She finally asks.

You almost want to laugh, because you had been expecting her to ask that; but you quickly suppress the urge.

“Yes.”

“Then that will be ok, yes.” Yes! “But Y/N,” she pauses, checking that you’re listening before she continues. Your stomach clenches nervously as your eyes meet hers.

“Make sure you each do an equal share of the work; don’t let her just copy you. You know what I think of that Heather.” She’s picked the wine glass back up now and is pointing at you with the index finger of the hand holding it.

You want to defend Heather and say that’s not true, but you bite your tongue.

“Uhuh,” is all you say, shovelling the forkful of pie into your mouth to stop yourself from saying anything else.

The pair of you sit in silence, finishing your dinner.

I can’t believe I’m going to the party! you think excitedly to yourself. That was so much easier than I had expected!

You have to remind yourself to chew slower, trying not to seem too eager to leave the table. You can’t wait to tell Heather.

When you’re both done eating, you stand from the table and collect up your plates. You start washing up, your back turned to your mother as she remains seated at the table. You can feel her eyes watching you.

You turn around slowly. She’s cradling her empty wine glass in her hand, watching you with sad eyes.

You wipe your wet hands on your top, meeting her gaze. You swallow hard.

“Are you done with your glass?” you ask, avoiding her eyes once more. She continues to look at you, blinking slowly.

You reach for it, “I’ll wash it up if you are.”

She seems to gather her composure, then she takes hold of the wine bottle, sniffing loudly. She tilts it to see what contents remain at the bottom then pours the rest into her glass and places the bottle back down on the table. She stands swiftly and retreats into the living room, without saying anything.

For a moment, you stand at the sink, staring at the empty bottle on the table. Then, with a sigh, you turn back round and finish washing up; your elation about the party, temporarily smothered.

When you’re done, you grab the bottle off the kitchen table. You rinse it quickly under the tap then take it outside to the recycling. You stare down into the plastic tub, full of empty wine bottles, placing tonight’s on the top of the pile. Then you go back inside and call Heather from your bedroom to tell her the good news about the party.

————————

The following evening, you’re standing in front of the full length mirror in Heather’s room, trying to decide what to wear to the party. You’d brought a choice of outfits with you, stashed at the bottom of your overnight bag, covered carefully with your pyjamas and the English textbook you wouldn’t need.

Heather sits cross-legged at the end of her bed, offering her opinions as you hold up each outfit in turn against yourself and show her in the mirror.

“Which do you think Billy will like best?” you wonder out loud.

She considers you carefully for a moment, a big smile spreading across her face.

“What?” you ask, seeing the way she’s looking at your reflection in the mirror.

“I’ve never seen you act like this over a guy before,” she says.

“So?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” she starts quickly, “I’m thrilled. ‘Bout time we got you laid.”

“Oh my God, Heather!” you gasp in shock, reaching out to smack at her arm lightly. “I’m not planning on sleeping with him!”

She holds up her hands in front of her, laughing, “Hey, I’m not judging.”

You bite your bottom lip, smiling gently as you continue to check out your current outfit choice, Heather’s words filling your head. You’d been thinking a lot about what Billy’s invitation meant- if that’s even what you could call it.

You notice that Heather is still smiling at you, but it’s softer around the edges, more thoughtful than before.

“What now?” you ask her, exasperated, but in a jokey way.

“Nothing,” she says, shrugging, “It’s just nice to see you happy.” Heather’s words fall upon you with more weight than you think she intended and you huff out a laugh to try and mask the sudden aching in your chest.

“You’ve been in a bad mood all week,” she adds. “I’ve only seen you smile when you’ve been talking about Billy.”

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to her. “I guess it’s this shit with the boys’ basketball team still not being resolved. It’s just bothering me is all.”

“What? But I thought you went and talked to the new captain this week?”

“I tried,” you explain, “I went to talk to him after practice on Thursday and they weren’t in there. Turns out he booked the space but they didn’t use it.”

“What? That’s so annoying!”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” you grumble.

“So what are you gonna do about it then? What if he tries to book it again next week?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, fiddling with the edge of the bed covers, “I don’t really want to think about it right now. I just want to have fun tonight,” you look at her pleadingly. “I could really do with just having some fun.”

Heather nods in agreement, then starts laughing like she’s suddenly thought of something amusing.

“Well, maybe Billy can help you with that!” she says suggestively.

You can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes you.

“Not what I meant, Heather! Ugh!” You roll your eyes at her and gently shove her shoulder so that she has to grab hold of the edge of the bed to avoid falling off it. You stand and turn back to the mirror to hold up one of the outfits in front of you again. “What about this one?” you ask.

She composes herself and moves off the bed to stand next to you, looking you over in the mirror. She places her hands on your shoulders.

“That’s it. That’s the one,” she smiles at you, leaning her head against yours. “Now, come on, hurry up or we’re gonna be late,” she lets go of you and starts rushing around the room, gathering up her own outfit and then settling down at her desk to do her makeup.

You check your chosen outfit one last time, then sit yourself on the floor in front of the mirror to start on your face too, bubbling with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

——

The party is already well underway by the time you arrive. You stand at the end of the long driveway next to Heather, gawking up at Tammy’s house. You had heard her parents were well-off, but you hadn’t expected her to live in a mansion.

Ok, maybe that’s a slight over-exaggeration but, that being said, her house is still easily twice as big as yours, if not more. You can see why she’s always throwing parties. And what with her parents being out of town a lot of the time for work, it’s perfect.

“You can pick your jaw up off the floor now,” Heather teases, beside you.

She leads the way towards the grand front door, which is flanked on either side by a large stone pillar. You weave your way past several haphazardly parked cars, one of which, it quickly becomes apparent, is occupied by a couple who are making out in the back seat.

You avert your eyes to the large lawn on the right of the driveway, edged with what you’re sure, in the springtime, would be beautiful rose bushes.

The door bursts open and a kid rushes out of the house, throwing up noisily onto one of the bushes nearest you. You grimace at the sight and have to remind yourself how lucky you are to finally be at one of Tammy’s infamous parties.

Loud music and the sounds of people cheering filter out through the now open front door to meet you.

Here we go, you think to yourself, taking a preparatory breath as you follow Heather into the crowded entryway.

It’s warm inside and smells faintly of body odor. Bodies press against you as you squeeze through the throng of people.

“Let’s grab a drink,” Heather shouts over the noise, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards a doorway on the left, “Kitchen’s this way.”

Tammy must have invited half the school. As huge as this place is, it’s full of students.

The kitchen is large and open plan, with an island in the middle, on top of which is a ridiculous amount of alcohol. It leads onto the lounge area, where the music is coming from two large speakers and all of the furniture has been pushed to the sides of the room to create a makeshift dance floor.

You follow Heather over to one of the punch bowls on top of the kitchen island, filled with a reddy-pink liquid. She grabs a couple of the red plastic cups stacked next to the bowl and hands one to you. She dips the edge of hers into the concoction, filling it up. You watch as she takes a sip and hums. “Oh, that’s good,” she says.

You copy her actions, taking a second to look at the liquid, wondering what’s in it and whether it’s wise to drink any.

Heather notices your hesitation. “You wanted to have fun, this will help, trust me.”

You take a tentative sip and screw your nose up at the taste. There’s a bit of a burning sensation in the back of your throat as it goes down and you cough slightly.

Heather giggles as she watches your reaction. Whatever alcohol is in it, it’s strong. But there is a nice cherry aftertaste which is starting to kick in. You take another sip; it goes down smoother this time.

You both move to stand in the space where the kitchen meets the living room, drinks in hand, bobbing to the music. You’re scanning the room for any sign of Billy; you don’t see him though.

There’s a small group of girls on the outer edge of the dance floor who spot Heather and start waving animatedly, trying to get her attention. You give her a gentle nudge with your elbow and point in their direction. You vaguely recognise a couple of them from the cheer squad. She beams when she sees them, waving back excitedly.

You can’t help but feel a tiny bit jealous, but then you remind yourself that Heather comes to these parties all the time and you don’t; of course she will have made other friends. They start beckoning her over.

She glances at you hesitantly. You know she feels like she has to babysit you, what with it being your first proper party and all, but you would feel bad for holding her back.

“Go dance if you want, Heather,” you say, forcing yourself to smile.

“You sure? You not gonna come too?”

“I will, but I think I need a couple more of these first,” you say, gesturing to the drink in your hand. “Go ahead, I’ll meet you out there,” you reassure her.

“Ok,” she says, giving you her drink to hold.

You watch her dancing with her friends, smiling and laughing, and huff a sigh.

Turning your gaze away from them, you try to distract yourself with looking around the room again. Still no sign of Billy.

You hover awkwardly at the edge of the room, taking long sips of your drink. You finish yours then start on Heather’s, mostly just for something to do.

Then you spot Steve heading through the glass sliding doors that run all the way along one wall of the living area, leading out onto the back garden. He negotiates the crowd of dancing bodies, heading in your general direction.

You’ve never been so pleased to see him.

“Hey, Steve!” you say cheerily, walking into his path. He looks surprised to see you.

“Hey, I can’t believe you’re actually at a party!” He glances down at the plastic cup in his hand, “Wait, I’m not super drunk and hallucinating, am I?” he teases.

“No, I’m really here,” you say, smiling, “Thought I’d ‘live a little’ for a change.”

The pair of you head over to the punch bowl, which you assume was his destination before you accosted him.

“Where’s Nancy?” you ask, refilling your cup as well whilst you’re there. Why the hell not, right?

“Studying,” he answers your question, rolling his eyes. You can’t help but feel a little bit of guilt. Yeah, that’s exactly what I should be doing right now too.

“Don’t you normally study together?” you ask, just trying to make conversation mostly.

“She banned me from helping. I’m ‘too much of a distraction,’” he scoffs, making air quotes with his fingers. You try not to think about what he means by that.

You’re wracking your brain for something to say. It’s not very often that you’re alone with Steve.

“You er, you don’t happen to know if Billy’s here yet, do you?” you try to ask him as casually as possible.

He looks confused for a second, then he seems to realise which Billy you mean.

“Not that jerk, Y/N, really?” He sounds a little repulsed.

“What is it with you two?” you ask, remembering Billy’s aversion to you being friends with Steve.

“Nothing, he’s just a dick,”

“Well, he’s been nothing but nice to me,” you say, trying to defend Billy.

“Yeah, I bet,” Steve grumbles, “But trust me, he’s an asshole.” He takes a swig of his drink, moodily.

You can’t help but think that Steve might be jealous of Billy and maybe that’s why he’d been so insistent about him being a jerk. You remind yourself of how Steve had scoffed when Tina had declared Billy was the new ‘King of Hawkins High,’ a title which used to belong to Steve.

“Have you seen him or not?” you press again.

You see his resolve visibly break and he sighs in defeat.

“Yeah, he was outside.” He gestures towards the sliding doors he had come through.

You quickly down your drink in a few mouthfuls, then fill it back up again from the punch bowl.

“Hey, maybe you should slow down,” Steve suggests, looking like he wants to take the cup out of your hand as he watches you defiantly taking another long drink from it.

“Alright, dad,” you tease, you go to walk away from him, but he grabs you gently by the elbow, stopping you.

“As Nancy’s not here, I’m taking her place as the friend that looks out for you tonight.” His words catch you off guard. “Please just be careful with him. He’s got a reputation already and I’d hate to see you get hurt,” he adds.

You laugh. You’re not sure why.

“Yes, thank you Steve, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” You take another long gulp of your drink. You’re starting to feel warmer now, and sort of lightheaded. You like this feeling.

He lets go of your arm in defeat and runs his hand through the front of his hair, huffing another sigh.

“Well, if you need a ride home later or something, just come find me,” he says.

You soften a little bit. “Thanks, Steve.” He’s actually worried about me. Maybe you and Steve were more friends than you thought.

“Well if it isn’t Harrington,” a familiar voice approaches the pair of you. Steve’s face drops at the sound and he mutters something under his breath which you don’t hear. You look up to see Billy walking over to the island. His jaw clenches as he watches you together.

He looks good, really good, wearing a black leather jacket and a dark red shirt. Only the two bottom-most buttons are done up, exposing his tanned chest for you to see. Your eyes go to it, slowly working their way back up to his face.

“Is he bothering you?” The question is directed at you, but his eyes stay on Steve as he continues to stare him down, squaring his shoulders.

You laugh in an attempt to break the tension. “No, we were just saying hi.”

You walk around the counter towards Billy. It seems to distract his attention away from Steve, his jaw untensing as he takes in your appearance. His face breaks into a slow grin as you get closer.

He leans into your ear, “Why don’t we go somewhere a bit quieter?” he suggests.

You feel a little bit dizzy all of a sudden, with his breath on the side of your face and his smell invading your nostrils; a heady combination of tobacco and beer, mixed with cologne.

You bite your bottom lip and nod, unable to form words.

Billy shoots Steve a triumphant look as the pair of you start walking away.

As you’re heading for the sliding doors, you catch sight of Heather on the dance floor still. She gives you a big smile and two thumbs up when she spots you and Billy. You point at yourself and then at the doors leading outside and she nods enthusiastically in understanding. You don’t miss the way Heather’s friends follow you with their eyes, when they see who you’re with.

It’s cold as you step outside, but you can’t really feel it through your jacket; the alcohol in your system offering an extra layer of warmth. After the stifling atmosphere of the party inside, the fresh air is welcome. You slide the door shut behind you, muting the music slightly.

Tammy’s garden is big and, like with the rose bushes in the front garden, you’re sure it will be beautiful when the spring comes.

There’s a long patio area up by the house, which is littered with chatting students and discarded beer kegs. Then there’s a gentle downward sloping lawn, which leads to another patio area with a bench, next to a large tree. The whole thing is bordered by shrubs and bushes. You’re almost surprised there isn’t a swimming pool out here, what with the size and grandeur of the rest of the house. But it’s pretty nonetheless.

Billy flashes you a smile then starts making his way down the lawn to the patio area with the bench. You automatically follow him, your stomach knotting with nerves.

It’s much quieter down at the end of the garden, but you can still hear the buzz of conversation in the background; can still hear the bass of the music coming from inside the house.

You walk over to the tree and place a hand on its bark, trying to think of something to say.

“So…” you start, turning back to Billy. He’s standing close to you. Much closer than you had realised.

He licks his bottom lip, which draws your eyes to it. He seems to take that as a sign and slowly closes the distance between you. You flick your gaze back up to meet his eyes, which look more hooded and darker than usual. Wow, his eyelashes are so long, you think to yourself, I never noticed that before. He places his right hand at the back of your head, gently pulling you towards him; and your nerves melt away.

Your eyes flutter shut, your body automatically responding to him. He pauses, taking in the look on your face, before he slowly pushes his full lips to yours.

You kiss him back, one of your hands moving to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair; the other, settling at his waist.

He deepens the kiss, licking at your bottom lip with his tongue and you open your mouth to welcome him in. He walks you backwards a few small steps, without breaking the kiss, until you feel your back press into the trunk of the tree behind you.

He pushes you up against it, gripping the back of your right thigh with his left hand and guiding it up to straddle his hip. The kiss grows more heated as he continues to move his hand up, sliding it under your jacket, to your mid back; fingers raking at the material of your top.

You pull away slightly to breathe, feeling lightheaded. Billy moves his attention to your neck, kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin there. You tilt your head back against the rough bark of the tree and let out a small, breathy moan. He sucks a bit harder, responding to the noise, humming low against your neck.

There’s a shrill wolf whistle to your left, up near the house, followed by whooping and raucous applause.

Oh God.

Your eyes snap open to see a small crowd has gathered up on the patio area, watching the pair of you make out. Billy smiles against your neck then reluctantly pulls away from you. You hurriedly drop your right leg and push away from the tree, your cheeks burning.

Now your little ‘display’ is over, the cheering and applause die down pretty quickly and the crowd starts to disperse. However, you can still see Tommy, with Carol and a few others laughing beside him, making a show of continuing to clap a couple more times.

“Yeah, thanks for killing the mood!” Billy shouts up the garden, flipping him off; he doesn’t sound too pissed off about it though. Tommy stops clapping, returning the rude gesture with a smirk and walks off with Carol on his arm.

You start laughing despite yourself. This is wild. If someone had said to you a week ago that you’d be at a party, drinking alcohol and kissing a guy, especially one that looks like Billy, you’d have laughed in their face.

He watches you laughing with that familiar flirty grin on his face and licks his bottom lip.

“I’m glad you decided to ditch studying,” he says.

“Yeah, me too.”

And you really mean it. Lying to your mum was so worth it. Even if she finds out about the party, you wouldn’t care, because right now you feel like you’re on top of the world.

He reaches into one of the inside pockets of his jacket, sliding out a pack of Marlboros.

“I’m just gonna borrow a lighter, don’t go anywhere,” he says, placing the end of one in his mouth.

“Ok,” you say with a smile.

He makes to walk back up the garden in Tommy’s direction, then you remember the lighter you’ve been carrying around in your pocket most of the week.

“No, wait, I’ve got one!” You fish it out and hold it up to show him victoriously. You hand it over.

“I thought you didn’t smoke,” he says, the cigarette between his lips, muffling the question.

He shields the end of the smoke from the night’s breeze with his hands as he skillfully lights up.

“I don’t. I found it,” you shrug.

He looks down at it, runs his thumb over the side that’s badly scratched.

“This is mine,” he says, turning the zippo over in his palm. He takes a long drag of his cigarette. “Been looking everywhere for this. Where was it?”

You huff out a laugh, ignoring his question.

“It isn’t yours,” you say dismissively, because you know for a fact whose it is. You pluck the lighter from his hand.

He looks taken aback for a second.

“Yes, it is.” His face breaks into an amused smirk when he sees you’re not convinced.

“Oh, really?” You say, going along with his little game.

“Yes, really. Check the bottom; it’s got my initials on it.” You stare at him challengingly for a second, calling his bluff.

You flip the lighter over, skeptically.

“There aren’t any initials on the bot-” you cut off mid-sentence, the words dying in your throat as you look down at it. Engraved on the bottom is ‘B.H.’

You drop it as if it’s burned you.

“Careful with it,” Billy says as the lighter clatters to the paving. He bends down to pick it up off the floor, inspecting it for damage.

“You’re the new captain of the basketball team?” You take a step back from him, your head swimming.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling at you; you guess most girls would be impressed by that news. But not you. He seems to pick up on your change in mood and asks you, “What’s that got to do with anything?” his smile dropping slightly.

You turn away from him, putting your hands up into your hair and keep them there on the sides of your head, like you’re trying to hold your skull together, as you exhale a huff of air. You feel so betrayed. Your stomach feels hollow, but your chest is full, anger rising up and out of you as you round on him.

“You’ve really fucked things up, you know that?” You say, pointing an accusatory index finger at him and taking a few steps closer, propelled by your sudden anger and the alcohol flowing through your system.

A few students up by the house have turned your way again, watching with interest, but you don’t take any notice of them.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, opening his arms at his sides, his brow raised in question. His smile is totally gone.

You scoff audibly. As if he doesn’t know!

“I’m the captain of the girls’ basketball team, did y’know that?” you ask him aggressively. “And you’ve been stealing my days in the gym!”

You don’t even wait to hear what he’s got to say for himself, storming away from him as fast as your legs will carry you in your current state. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid!

“Hey, wait a minute!” he calls after you. “Where are you going?”

You turn on the spot to face him. He has the audacity to look annoyed.

You suddenly feel a strange urge to laugh. To throw your head back and start cackling right in the middle of Tammy’s garden.

“Somewhere you’re not,” you bite at him. And with that, you stomp off back towards the house.

That asshole! you seeth to yourself. Of course it would be him; the one guy that I actually have a crush on and he also happens to be the person making my life unbearable! How the Hell did I not see that coming? I mean, the team has a new captain and Billy is new to school; his name begins with a fucking ‘B’ for Christ’s sake, same initial as on the booking schedule! It couldn’t have been any more obvious! I let myself be blinded by his stupid, good looking face. Ugh! How could I have been so stupid?!

As you near the house, you spot Tommy and Carol’s little posse, who are hanging around by one end of the sliding doors. You try to slip past them unseen but Tommy rounds on you, his face breaking into a smirk.

“I see you and Hargrove have finally met,” he says. Carol scoffs a laugh from beside him. I am so not in the mood for you right now.

You really want to shove him away from you, or punch him right in his stupid smug face. Instead you spit out a “Fuck off Tommy,” through your clenched teeth.

If he’d been less cryptic with you about the new captain when you asked him yesterday then this whole thing could have been avoided. You would have known it was Billy and you wouldn’t have shown up to this stupid party and ended up kissing him.

“Woah, someone’s got her panties in a knot!” Carol says as you wrench the door open and step inside.

Your eyes frantically search the dance floor for any sign of Heather, but you come up empty. Where the hell is she?

You head for the kitchen, making a beeline for the punch bowl. You don’t know why but you grab a cup, fill it up and down its contents quickly. Then you refill it.

Some guy who’s standing near you starts chanting “Chug! Chug! Chug!” as you drain that cupful too.

You suddenly seem to realise what you’re doing, staring down at your now empty cup. You glance at the punch bowl, guilt swirling in your stomach, making you feel nauseous. I am such a fucking hypocrite.

Your eyes stinging, you discard your cup on the counter top, gripping onto the edges of the granite to keep yourself upright. I need to get out of here.

You fumble your way out into the corridor, stumbling into several people. Your whole body feels heavy, your feet clumsy underneath you. You stop dead when you catch sight of your reflection in the hallway mirror. You hardly recognise the girl staring back at you; eyes heavily made up and hooded from the alcohol, hair tousled and lips slightly swollen from your kiss with Billy. Billy. You scowl at your reflection at the thought of him.

Steve’s shocked face appears behind you in the mirror.

“Y/N, there you are.”

“Shhteeve!” you say, relieved to see a friendly face.

You turn to him and stumble forward. He catches you easily enough.

“Oh geez, you’re wasted,” he says, holding onto you to keep you upright.

“I wuz just tryna have fun,” you slur, sinking into his grip.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” He throws your arm over his shoulders and starts walking you towards the front door, supporting your weight.

“You were right about him, Steve,” you say sadly.

“Who?” He asks, distracted by trying to get the door open whilst still holding onto you.

“Billy,” you mumble, pulling a pouty face.

Steve stops fussing and looks at you seriously, his brow creasing in the middle. “What happened? Are you ok?”

“He stole my days in the gym, is what happened!” you say loudly. A couple people in the hall turn to look at you. “He’s the captain of the boys’ team,” you screw up your face as if the words have left a sour taste in your mouth.

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. Didn’t you know? I could have told you that.”

You scowl at him. “Then why didn’t you?!” you say angrily, swinging your free arm out wide to hit his. You miss. “Made me look like a damn fool,” you grumble, pouting again.

He laughs and renews his grip on you.

“Yeah, well I did try to warn you about him,” he mumbles, it’s almost inaudible over the noise of the party.

He finally manages to get the door open, guiding you out of the house and over the front step.

Like a lightbulb has suddenly switched on in your brain, you clumsily bring a palm up to slap your forehead.

“Crap!”

“What, what is it?” Steve asks, stopping again with an exasperated sigh.

“Heather!” you say, I can’t believe I almost forgot! “I’m s’posed to be stayin’ at hers.”

“Ok,” he says, looking around. He walks you over to a stone bench in the front garden and sits you down on it. He lets go of you slowly, making sure you’re stable. “Wait right here, I’ll go find her. Don’t move.”

“You have really great hair,” you say in awe as you stare up at it. “Anyone ever told you that?”

He laughs.

“Wow, you are really drunk. Wait right here,” he repeats.

He walks back to the door, glancing at you one last time to check you’re ok, before disappearing inside to find Heather.

------

Chapter 3

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