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pinkrelish · 2 years

Text

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader

✶There was an obvious implication as to why Eddie would invite you to ring in the New Year with him. Even his friends knew it, leaving you two alone at the countdown to 1986. Would tonight be the night he finally kissed you?✶

NSFW — mechanic!eddie, fluff, flirting, being dumb teenagers young adults, 18+ overall for smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 8/15 [wc: 8.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11

AO3

Chapter 8: Midnight Sparks

You nestled deeper into your coat, and jogged to the door of Bradley’s Big Buy, wincing from the glare of the gray clouds reflected on the windows. The forecast said it was supposed to be sunny today.

————

It started with a weekly phone call like any other. You were huddled on your bed, face turned away from your roommate’s prying gaze. She sat at her study desk, cranking the timer you both used to keep things civil.

Whatever. What did she care if the line was busy, anyway? It’s not like she had a new boyfriend to call her after she was dumped two weeks ago.

“They give you a few days off, don’t they?” Eddie probed with a persuasive inflection at the end of his sentence. “C’mon, it’s New Years. Why don’t you swing by and pay a visit to your dear ol’ pal, Eddie?”

He was smirking like a villain, wasn’t he? So smug, so carefree. Cracking a smile to where his top lip met his cheek dimple, showing off the mischievous gleam on his canines. It’s just the worst expression. Detestable.

“Swing by?” you repeated incredulously. “In what world is a trip to see your sorry ass in Indiana ‘swinging by’?”

“I know you don’t have plans for New Year’s–”

“You don’t know that.”

“Do you have plans?”

“..No,” you admitted.

You could picture him with irritating clarity. How his raised eyebrows fell into diabolical slants, eyes crinkled at the corners, stupid grin deepening once he caught you; how he shrugged and clapped his hands when he assumed a pitying, pompous tone after sucking his teeth, “Well, I guess that settles it, then! You’re coming here to spend New Year’s Eve with us. I’ll make the trip worth it, I promise. Tons of fireworks, hanging out with the guys, and hey, I’ll even throw in the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of a private show of your favorite band, Corroded Coffin, up close and personal.” He paused to grant you the space for one sigh, then he sweetened the deal. “I’ll tune up your car for you.”

“For free?”

He laughed. “Free, but I do accept gifts and favors as a form of payment, my dear.”

“As humble as ever, I see,” you said, rather than commit to more. It was bad enough he had you wrapped around his finger, speaking gently into the phone snug against his mouth, dragging his lips over the plastic, invoking the tender side of him when trying to convince you to come see him. Where a subconscious sadness smoothed the sharp edges of his teasing.

Of course you wanted to see him again.. However, the traditional way of ringing in the New Year sat like a weight on your chest. The same creeping anxiety of knowing he’d ask you to come to Hawkins again, and the same dread of knowing nothing would come of it.

Unless..

It was finally your turn to be noticed.

“Fine, you’ve worn me down. I’ll come. But I’m not happy about it.” You’ve made worst decisions in your life.

————

And that’s the story of how a boy persuaded you into coming back to the small town you had no intention of returning to without a good reason.

Eyes adjusting to the dingy grocery store, you scanned the short aisles for anyone you recognized, and were relieved to see the place was rather empty, aside from the owner doing a crossword puzzle at the counter. You grabbed a hand basket and perused the cold section at the back. Subsisting on convenient snacks and coffee since you left campus, you were more than ready for one of the ready-made sandwiches in the deli section, and any piece of fresh fruit or vegetable you could find.

Reading over the flavors of Gatorade in the drink cooler, you grabbed one, dropped it in the basket on the floor and stood up, arguing in your head about if you should order take-out to be delivered for the group tonight, or wait and see if someone like Jeff was considerate enough to think of that ahead of time. All of this left you vulnerable to the looming presence behind you, who was bending to speak over your shoulder.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

You spun so fast, the creep’s lips brushed the shell of your ear. His warm breath fanned your neck. Flashes of walking to your dorm alone at night had you springing into action before a second thought crossed your mind.

At the front of the store, the owner looked up from his newspaper, peering over his glasses at your nuisance.

“Whoa, there,” Eddie laughed, tracing the corner of his mouth with his tongue, doing a terrible job at hiding his amusement amidst his surprise. He made a motion like he was going to cup his hands over your fists to ease you out of your defensive position, then thought better of it. He posed with his arms up like he was surrendering.

Still considering punching him, you released a seething exhale of, “Jesus Christ, Eddie–!”

“I guess that answers if you’re a ‘fight’ or ‘flight’ response type of person.”

Refraining from greeting him, you went straight to asking the one question he deserved, “I’ve been here for all of three minutes, how is it you always know where to find me? And don’t,” –You emphasized– “Don’t tell me that you just do.”

“It’s my special talent,” he answered like the bastard he was.

You should’ve punched him.

Taking a tiny step away, Eddie averted his attention around the store for a few vain seconds, then gave up, returning to you. He chewed the inside of his cheek in spite of his abundant grin growing under the shy once-over you gave him. “Almost didn’t recognize you,” he said, more blatant in his observations. Raking his gaze over the length of your body. Deliberate, and tenacious. Taking his time to absorb you as you stood before him. Stopping at details you could only guess at. Devouring you openly. Fearlessly involving his fingers on your suede sleeve, dragging his fingertips down to the fluffy cuff and curling them inward, admiring the softness brushing over his knuckles. He wasn’t touching you, really. “A Penny Lane jacket and flared jeans? Were you invited to some retro costume party I don’t know about, or something?”

You couldn’t discern if his pink cheeks were because of the harsh wind outside, or something else. “I think some old lady died, and I got her wardrobe at the thrift store.” Riding the high of his flattery, you crossed your ankles and spun on the soles of your chunky boots, sweeping your hands down your clothing. “An entire outfit for less than twenty bucks.”

“It looks good on you.” He said it in that lower register. Where his voice cracked in and out. Quiet. More akin to the guys who hit on you.

You thanked him by doing the silly thing of putting your hands in your pockets. Swaying side to side. Not awkward at all, and definitely not trying to hide your smile.

Clearly not in here to grab groceries, he tipped his head towards his van outside, and asked, “I’m making a trip outside city limits for the good fireworks. Wanna come with?”

“I’m sorry.” You wanted to go. Just to sit next to him. To steal more time with him. Listen to music, hang out, fill in the blanks phone conversations couldn’t do justice. Hear his voice in person again. Say things that earned his rolodex of smiles, or laughs. Find ways to garner more compliments, more affection. Yet, your body ached in a severe way you couldn’t ignore. “I’ve been driving since about 3 this morning, and I’m kinda tired. Is it okay if I take a nap and meet you later?”

He screwed his eyes shut and faltered. Shook his head, and scrunched his face in a pained expression, speaking as if he was the one in the wrong for asking in the first place, “Of course! Yeah. Yeah, you’ve been driving all night. You deserve to relax. I didn’t mean to just–Yeah. Anyway, when were you leaving? You here for a few days?” he ended in a hopeful lilt.

It sucked letting him down. “Sorry, I’ve gotta leave pretty early tomorrow. I have two assignments due the first Friday after break, and it’s competition season, so lots of meets now; pretty much every other weekend starting the second week of January.”

He moved further away. Absently reading the labels on the bags of chips while he sorted through whatever disappointment he harbored. Tapping his knuckle on an end cap for an aisle, staying in his thoughts. Using the cold metal to rein in his feelings about your short time together.

“I’m sorry, Eddie..”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. He donned a happy persona. “That just means we’ll have to make the most of tonight, right?”

“Right.” You hated his fake turn in attitude. It’s not like you wanted this shitty reality, either. The ones in your head were much more preferable. Much more romantic. “We’ll make some good memories to last us until next time.”

Usually, Eddie was easy to read. He shared his emotions openly. However, when he looked at you like he did now–skimming his gaze from your eyebrows to your nose, scoping out the kindness of your glossy lips–you had to wonder what he was thinking, and if he was observing you with curiosity, or something sweeter. Please be sweeter.

“We will,” he promised. “We’ll go out with a bang, sweetheart.”

In a phenomenal execution of decorum, you did not, indeed, choke on your spit at his word choice.

~~~

The receipt with Eddie’s handwriting on the back waved between your fingers. You drove away from the corner unit of the Motel 6 with your windows rolled down, enjoying the sunshine. It almost didn’t feel like winter with how it warmed up while you laid in bed, replaying the scene of your best friend tilting his head to check out your tight fitting jeans when you bent over to pick your grocery basket off the floor.

Someone should’ve told him the door to the drink cooler was quite reflective.

Still, you had to question why he would bother giving you Gareth’s address when he could’ve simply told you it was the nicer subdivision on the north side of town you both ransacked during Halloween. From there, it was painfully obvious which house he was talking about.

Low-tuned sludgy riffs of doom metal called out to you from the main road. It was just Lloyd on bass and Jeff on guitar playing together while Eddie had the back doors of his van open, helping Gareth slide out sheets of plywood and stack them in the dead grass.

You pulled into the driveway and Eddie waved at you to park behind him.

“There she is,” he announced over the music. Interestingly, he dropped the pet names around his friends, but Gareth gave you two a sneaky glance, regardless. “Running me low on daylight after begging me to fix her car.”

Mouth agape, you filled your lungs to the fullest with an absolute dissertation’s amount of rebuttal, but your fortitude vanished. The bane of your existence eclipsed the sun.

Eddie folded his arms atop your open window, leaning onto your car door, kicking his hip out, regarding you down his broad nose.

Music faded out one strum at a time. The guys crowded the back of the garage, hooking up extension cords to Eddie’s power tools, and carried them to the saw horses they had set up, keeping themselves busy and at a distance.

Eddie’s hair fell over his shoulders. He provoked you in a softer voice, “What’s my payment for doing this kind gesture for you, hmm?” The tendons in his neck flexed as he hummed.

The smallest muscle in his cheek twitched the longer you schooled your face from reacting. Giving him nothing to work with, leaving him to guess if he was being annoying in the wrong way. Making him sweat under the heat of his innuendo.

If only he knew you’d be on your knees the split second he gave the command.

But, you remained strong in the face of temptations, and opened the door, shoving him back a few steps. “Have I ever told you I hate you?”

“Once or twice,” he said after feigning to think about it.

“And to answer you..” You kicked the door closed behind you, and drew yourself to your full height as if you were in front of suited up judges. Chin high, shoulders back. Taller in your boots. Meeting his eye easily. An intimidating strength to your intense demeanor. “I’m here, aren’t I?” Both a gift and a favor. His gift. His favor. His girl.

Eddie snorted. “How could I forget? Your presence is my greatest treasure.”

You tipped your cheek to your shoulder as you considered him. “I’m your greatest treasure?” His brashness deflated upon hearing you repeat it back at him. Your eyes narrowed wickedly while his widened. “I seem to remember you saying you’d take care of me if I came back.”

For a blissful beat, memories of that first phone call passed over his unfocused gaze. You, too, unlocked a few repressed images you swore you wouldn’t release when he was standing right in front of you; fully clothed, and very handsome.

Then, Eddie stuttered something, but there was no telling what, because Jeff started up the whirring circular saw with a smile of pure innocence. “Oh, did I interrupt you guys? My bad.”

You threw him a sardonic smile, and addressed your flustered mechanic. “Shall we?”

It seemed Eddie struggled to move past your tongue-in-cheek proposition. Either that, or something else had his mind scrambled. “Uh, y-yeah,” he stammered, tripping over his own feet, making finger guns at his van where he left his tool bag. “We should. Y’know, daylight.” You agreed and tossed him your keys.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Lloyd exchanged knowing looks with Jeff and Gareth, who both shook their heads and rolled their eyes.

~~~

Some favor this turned out to be.

“How long has it been making that sound?” Eddie asked from the driver’s seat, aghast.

You shrugged at the exposed engine cranking and churning out a sound not unlike a dead man’s cough. “I dunno. Maybe a month? No.. Two, or three?”

“Babe,” he groaned to himself, thumping his head on the headrest. He ran his hands over the leather steering wheel, wringing the vibrations under his palms, listening to the racket. Stewing over his knee-jerk reaction to shake you until you promised to maintain your only means of transportation which brought you to him today. What if it broke down and you were stranded in some seedy city where someone could take advantage of you?

Working his jaw, he turned off the car and unfolded himself from your cramped seat.

Inside the back of his van, he collected a few replacements for parts he could tell were worn, and put them near the edge. “Have you changed the air filters lately?” You blinked up at him. He added new ones to the pile and hopped down.

“Do I want to know when was the last time you got an oil change?”

You crossed your arms and leaned your hip against the car, keen to the way he went into his zone, moving with skill over the motor in a predetermined method–an order to his operations. “You changed it for my mom the summer before I left, didn’t you?” He paused with the dipstick in his hand, brown eyes pinning you with glints of mortification, and disbelief. “Eddie, I’m kidding..” He wiped it on the dirty rag balled in his fist and his expression foretold the scolding you were about to get. “I got it changed like a year ago.” More angry staring. “Maybe it was two years ago,” you amended.

He added another task to his mental list. “You’re sending me to an early grave.”

Gareth began sawing pieces of 2x4s after Jeff measured them. The noise covered your private moment with Eddie.

Angling your head under the popped hood, you gut-punched him with a poignant truth he despised about himself. “Joke about an early grave all you want, I think you like doing this stuff for me because it makes you feel needed. Now that I’m away at college, you can’t just come over and fix a leak in my roof, or patch up a hole in the drywall, or pick me up from work when I’m too tired to drive.” Your gaze settled on his frown. “I appreciate you fixing my car, but I don’t want it to come across like that’s the only reason I’m here. You don’t need to do these things for me to come see you. I’m here because I like being with you. You’re my best friend, Eddie.”

You're my best friend, Eddie.

He invoked every fiber of self-restraint woven into his musculature to not look at you. “Do you have a hair tie?”

“Sure.” You took one from your wrist and handed it to him. Adding to your previous point, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel needed–”

“What, did you smoke a joint and read your psychology textbook before coming here? Be a doll and hold this for me.” He slipped out of his jacket, and tossed it at you. From his periphery he watched you clutch it to your chest, and in that moment–when your fingers curled around the collar, and your arms embraced his armor like a hug–he decided enough was enough. Tonight was the night.

~~~

Crossing your legs at the ankle, you sat back against the car door. A fine vantage point for pretending you were observing the guy's build.. whatever it was they were building, while your eyes fell to Eddie more often than not. Noticing him gather his hair at his nape and wrap the hair tie around it several times, not pulling through on the last loop, thus allowing it to fan out from a bun in springy waves. The rest of his short layers sat over his ears, catching the wind when he whipped around to seize a car part from his stash. Probably salvaged from the junkyard you played in as kids; a place you owed many of your scars to.

The shirt he wore was for a local band in Indy. Their name strained over his full chest, white letters stretching and bunching as he employed his skilled hands over your motor. A remarkably snug fit on him. Tight. Formed to the curves of his body. Capped sleeves stopping at the apex of his shoulders. Sharp cut of his tricep contouring an elegant shadow from one tattoo to the next, black ink flexing as he cranked a wrench.

Loose strands of hair clung to the sheen on his neck.

Black leather baked in your arms under the setting sun, intensifying the cheap cologne he doused to disguise the layers of weed and cigarette smoke, accompanied by the same deodorant that was on his Hellfire shirt.

The peppered stubble on his jaw. His shaved mustache. Smudges of grease in the hollow of his cheek as he chewed on another complaint in your direction. Mouth twisted to the side in concentration, until his tongue involved itself, parting his lips.

His tongue was a dangerous thing to be jealous of, yet here you were, fawning over its ability to be intimate with his mouth, his lips. Oh yes, his lips. How many hours you wasted of your adult life being stuck in boring lectures delivered by droning professors while you were thinking about his lips framing your name in the warmest of manners.

Eddie was stunning. Dirty, and stunning. Sweaty from being the gentleman he was, giving you a hand in one of the areas of your life you neglected, and he was in dire need of someone to clean him off. Someone whose fingers were as kind as yours to treat the scope of his understated beauty.

Someone to bathe him after a long day.

Get him nice and clean.

Then dirty again.

His hips were pressed to the red metal of your car. Tight jeans showing each thrust he made as he yanked on something out of your view. Handcuff belt buckle clinking every so often. Shirt wrinkled over the pudge on his stomach, and you couldn’t fathom a better place to land a few kisses on your way down to his–

“You like watching me work?” he asked plainly, bent over the headlight closest to you, eyes affixed on his project.

You jerked as if you snapped awake from a dream, and asked the guys crowding around the saw horses, “Hey, whatcha makin’? Can I help?” Apparently, Gareth and Jeff were laboring over a quarterpipe, and Lloyd was making a wide ramp. Why he specified wide, you didn’t know, but it was the perfect excuse to get the hell away from Eddie.

It was too real being next to him in person, and you needed a break.

Your swanky Penny Lane coat proved too insulating on the unusually balmy winter afternoon, so you unclasped the ornate button and draped it over your car door, revealing your cherry red blouse and silk scarf tied around your neck.

As you placed Eddie’s jacket alongside yours, something fell out of his pocket. You picked up the white and red package and turned it over. Wrigley’s Spearmint. It was missing a few foil-wrapped sticks of gum. Thinking nothing of it, you put it back, and joined Lloyd.

“What should I do?”

“Did you just time travel from a Hendrix show?” Jeff asked, earning your middle finger.

Lloyd instructed you where to hold the boards he was cutting, and revved the jigsaw. Wood shavings rained in its wake.

A cacophony of buzzing drowned out further conversation. Saws, drills, and a stream of swears filled the lull of the drifting creeping sunset.

Gareth looked around him for the nail gun, and realized he left it in the van. He told Jeff to keep his weight on the curved plywood. “I’ll get it.” And what a poor sight he stumbled upon. He could almost feel his heartstrings tug for his friend’s transparent pining. Almost.

Gareth’s saunter took on a swagger as he approached Eddie, and clapped him on the shoulder, shocking him from his awestruck daze. “Might wanna pick your jaw off the floor.”

Eddie was quick to close his mouth, and go to work with his back facing you. So what if your scarf was cute. And your blouse hugged you in all the right places. And the color complemented you. And the space between the buttons gapped. And your bra was white. And he could admire your jeans without your coat blocking the view. He was allowed to appreciate these things on a platonic level. He was a respectable young man, after all.

Besides, he was well within his right to stare.. from beneath your car after jacking it up, laying on his back, sliding under the engine on a creeper board with a wrench in his hand to do.. something. He forgot.

How was he supposed to concentrate when he’d been deprived of touch for so long he found his chest tensing, and his throat closing, at the memory of his lips grazing your ear at the grocery store, and how if he kept his face there, your lips would’ve connected with his when you turned?

~~~

Daylight burned to dusk.

The quarterpipe sat in the middle of the road opposite the ramp. No one else seemed to care if cars could pass by, so you didn’t either.

Eddie dug his heels into the driveway and wheeled himself back and forth on the roller board, face turned to scrutinize what you were doing instead of minding his own business; and you’d know, because this was hardly the first time your gazes met, and you both looked away as if it never happened.

Though, an unexpected object entered your field of view, anyway.

“A shopping cart?” you questioned. Jeff nodded enthusiastically on his way to the quarterpipe, hauling it to the top. Surely they weren’t planning on..

Gareth’s eyes shone with teenage madness. “You wanna get the firecrackers? We need to christen the cart.”

“Sure..” you drawled. Silly you for assuming the overturned hunk of dented metal in the neighbor’s ditch was discarded trash and not some prized possession.

You stepped over a pair of black jean-clad legs on your way to the back of Eddie’s van, and opened the doors wider, peering inside. It was much messier than last time you were in it. Blown out speakers, guitar cases, and the aforementioned scrounged up parts to extend your car’s life occupied most of the space, along with loose papers and textbooks for school. Near you, there were boxes upon boxes of fireworks. Way more than you thought necessary, but he did say he wanted to end 1985 with a bang.

Pulling one closer to you, you found the red packs of fireworks strung together like a bandolier, and grabbed several belts worth.

And, of course, when you turned around, you gasped and backed into the rear bumper.

Fluttering your eyes closed, you stated in an even tone, “If you scare me one more time.”

“Maybe you should pay more attention to your surroundings.” Eddie wrung a dirty rag around his stained fingers, hip cocked out. He jerked his chin at your car. “Almost done. Not as good as new, but in a lot better condition than when you drove here.”

“Thank you. You seriously didn’t have to go and do all of this for me.”

The harsh light coming from Gareth’s garage divided Eddie’s face in halves. He held his hands up to inspect the grime under his fingernails, and answered, “I did it for me, so I can rest easy knowing you’re safe.” A shadow concealed his mouth, but you were certain he wasn’t smiling. The serious knot between his brows, and the bluntness in his visible eye pierced the uprising of nighttime splitting you into two sides of the same friendship. What you showed each other and what you kept hidden in the dark. “What if something happened and you got hurt?”

Your forearm was alive with the sensation of his warmth penetrating the chill on your skin. “I don’t live a safe life. I could fall and snap my neck at any moment on the uneven bars. A single missed catch and I’m gone.” As you spoke, you swayed closer, taunting the electricity to spark between you. His chest swelled with a breath. He smelled of spearmint. “If you want to keep me out of harm’s way, you’ll have to do better than fix my car.”

A single firework in the distance struck the saturated sky. Then more. More bangs, squeals, children shouting in awe around the subdivision.

Eddie didn’t say anything else, so you didn’t either.

Eddie didn’t make a move, so you didn’t either.

The delicate paper crinkled in your hands. “Do you have a lighter on you?”

Roused from his trance, he pointed at his jacket hanging over your door. “In my..” He trailed off, hand lowering as something registered to him. “Actually, I think I have some matches on my dash.”

It was a weird moment–the whole exchange, the awkward faltering–but you found the worn paper package on his dashboard, and joined the others, avoiding giving a side-long glance at Eddie, who involved himself in the finishing touches on your car.

The guys became more psyched up when you handed them the goodies. They tangled the fireworks around the handle of the shopping cart balanced precariously at the top of the quarterpipe, and Jeff propped his foot on one of the wheels, while Gareth climbed into the basket.

Jeff raised a single match and aligned it on the strike strip. “We hereby commence tonight’s festivities! Let the new year bring forth joy!” He looked at Gareth, then Lloyd. “Prosperity!” He spun to you, a certain glint of glee when his eyes landed on yours, then somewhere behind you. “And love,” he finished, lighting the match with flair.

It burned bright.

Flame to fuse, sparks flew.

Before even the first firecracker popped, the cart was wrangled, and Jeff was in motion. Shoving it over the edge, putting power behind his sprint as it sped down the slope. He let go. Gareth gripped the sides and whooped as he approached the wide ramp at max speed. It hit the incline, and together, they flew–at least, they gave the impression of flying right before they smacked the pavement. Bouncing, clanging, almost tipping nose-first, and recovering at the last second, skidding to a halt upright and uninjured.

The firecrackers burnt out their last bang, and fell to the road in dwindling flames.

Lloyd cruised alongside the chaos on his skateboard, and gave a hearty, “Hell yeah!” Gareth appeared a little shaken, but otherwise fine.

“Is the ramp okay?”

Relaxing from your wince, you peeped an eye open to confirm it did remain in one piece.

“Nice!” Jeff said, kicking the support beam you screwed into place. “It held up. The other one cracked on the first run.” Apparently that was a win in their books.

Gareth rode the back of the shopping cart to its wobbly stop in front of you. “Wanna take it for a spin?” He swung his arm over the reckless vehicle, and towards the safety hazards you helped facilitate.

The quarterpipe suddenly seemed towering. Much taller than when it was being constructed.

You placed your hands in your back pockets, and conjured an excuse while shifting from foot to foot. “Interestingly enough, as a NCAA athlete, I signed a contract stating I would not partake in irresponsible behavior. You know, the usual stuff to prevent an injury before Nationals. No ice skating, no shenanigans, no horsing around, and..” You tsked. “Definitely no tomfoolery.” You served him a cheeky grin, oblivious to the unamused stare Eddie was giving you after your little speech earlier.

“C’mon,” Gareth appealed in an equally charming twang. He stamped the end of his skateboard and caught it in his hand, spinning it around to where the grip tape faced you. “How about we start with this on solid ground? You don’t have to be scared. I’ll teach you.”

Pursing your lips, you stalled.

“Don’t let him peer pressure you,” Eddie warned from your driver’s seat, about to put the key in the ignition. “Think about your future. You can’t compete with a broken wrist.”

A searing flash of anger struck your nerves. Somehow, when it was Eddie worrying over you, it was so much more irritating than being called scared. Like hell you were scared, and like hell you were going to get hurt. It was riding a fucking skateboard, not jumping through a flaming hoop. And how hard could it be? Balancing was sort of your thing.

You raised your eyebrows at Gareth, and shrugged. “Sure, yeah, teach me.”

The annoyed sigh behind you encouraged you all the more.

Eddie could suck a fat one. You wanted to have fun.

Gareth led you to the street, and gave you a rundown on where to put your feet, talking you through the process of transferring your weight through your stance, and to trust him. Jeff was nearby giving feedback, as well, and Lloyd dropped in from the quarterpipe to skate circles around you. They reassured you that everyone shook like a newborn deer when stepping onto the board for the first time.

Although Gareth was grasping you around your forearms, he felt too far away when the board creaked. You didn’t expect it to lurch forwards and back from how you stood on it sideways. In a blink, you grappled for his shoulders, snatching fistfuls of his gray hoodie and the collar of his flannel vest into your vice grip, panicking.

He laughed. “You’re good, you’re good.” Moving to where he was cupping the undersides of your elbows, he waited for you to regain your balance, and said, “Don’t look at your feet, it’s throwing you off.” You lifted your gaze to his face. His eyes were kinder up close. “We’re just gonna.. Yeah, like that.” Like a waltz.

Guiding you at the snail’s pace you were comfortable at, you discovered every ridge of every bump of every pebble stuck in every crack in the asphalt beneath the wheels. He eased you in a straight line. The pins on his flannel reflected the burst of bottle rockets being set off in the cul-de-sac.

Your concentration was dedicated to staying standing, but you were aware of the sound of your engine dying down, and a set of watchful eyes on the back of your head.

“Put your weight on your back foot. It’ll lift the front of the board, so you can steer yourself in a circle.” You listened, and did as he said, bringing the nose up in quick pops. It wasn’t quite a circle, but the guys were stoked for your progress.

“I’m doing it!” you said, conquering your fear with another tap, tap, tap of a circle. You didn’t have the hang of balancing in your shoulders yet, rather than your hips, but it was something. Tap, tap, tap. Braver. Bigger movements. Faster. He spun you faster. More weight on your back foot. Another circle. More weight. And then, pain.

“I’ll get it,” Jeff mumbled, running off in some direction.

“Hey, we got the first fall out of the way. Not so bad, right?”

You got too daring, it seemed, judging by Gareth’s surprised face hovering above yours, on account of you bringing him down with you.

You let go of him with an apology, but he kept his hold on you to make sure your head didn’t hit the pavement. He was about to ask if you were okay, and you were about to say your right ass cheek stung, however, an aura of told-you-so forced him to exit your immediate vicinity.

“Nope, we’re done with that,” Eddie enunciated through his teeth. He stuck his hand out with the intent to help you up, and you mirrored him. Yet. He hesitated. Imperceivable to his friends who won his affection easily, but to you, it was the longest split second decision you had the agony of enduring. Your hand was there. Right there, and he rejected it. He aimed for your wrist instead, clasping his washed fingers around your polyester sleeve, and he was wearing his jacket now. Even if you wanted to touch him, you couldn’t. He ensured you couldn’t. No contact. Ever.

It was starting to get old.

You accepted his offer, and voiced your exasperation, “Eddie, I fell like, two feet. I’m fine.”

“Fine? What if you twisted your ankle?”

Determined to keep him tethered to you, you locked his wrist into your hand’s dominant embrace, and stepped to him, speaking right above a tame whisper, “But I didn’t.”

“And what if you landed on your knee?” he asked, matching your low tone. He drew you closer. Not enough to be witnessed, but you were consumed by the discreet pressure of his frustration on your pulse. Thrilled by it, even.

“Ease up, man. Your girl survived the Great Skateboard Crash of 1985 without so much as a scratch.”

“I’m not his girl.”

“She’s not my girl,” Eddie reiterated at the expense of Jeff’s shit eating grin, refusing to break your eye contact. “She’s the thorn in my side.” He initiated letting go of you all too soon. This time, you were the one to pursue him.

Taking him by the upper arms, you sank your nails into his leather barrier, and teased your bottom lip into an exaggerated pout. “I think Eddie forgot how to have fun. Remember, Munson, we used to build ramps out of tossed construction materials propped onto deflated tires we found around the trailer park? How many times did we crash our bikes and almost knock our teeth out? By those standards, this is totally OSHA compliant. Live a little.”

“Yeah, Eddie, live a little,” Gareth snarked.

“He’s only this protective over you,” Lloyd observed with a note of mock hurt. “He doesn’t care if we get hurt.”

“Bullshit,” Eddie dismissed, fighting a smile. “I care if you can’t make it to Hellfire.” Earning a round of laughter, stress ebbed from his posture. His grumpiness melted under your firm palms pleading for him to relax.

With a voice overflowing with reluctance, he asked, ”You want a ride in the cart?” You nodded. “Get in.”

~~~

Besides being the one at the helm of your fate, Eddie had a few conditions: arms and legs must remain inside the vehicle at all times, no ramp, wear your coat, no ramp, don’t aim the Roman candle at his handsome face, and–most importantly–no ramp. And there you were, sitting in the basket of the shopping cart atop the quarterpipe’s platform, shoulders against the handlebar that Eddie gripped with white knuckles, twisting your head to smile up at him.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” he said.

You smiled bigger.

Eddie took a match from Jeff, and lit the top of the tube in your hand. “Any last words?”

“Just one,” you said, waving your middle finger.

Ever gentle, he shook the cart, scaring you into facing forward as he approached the edge. The fire spouting from your firework grew in fierceness. Blindingly bright, and hot as it crept down the tube. Eddie asked if you were ready, and the first ball shot out like a flare gun, hitting a tree branch in its path, before landing on a roof and fizzling out.

You’re convinced he didn’t wait for you to answer.

The front wheels crested the top of the quarterpipe. Completely vertical, your insides performed a somersault as the hard, unforgiving street below stretched on for eons; and then, it was gone. Replaced by the ache of your body being slammed against metal. A disorienting jumble of the firework’s floom as it went off beside your head, and Eddie’s cackling laugh reverberating between your ears.

You sailed past where the ramp used to be. Eddie was the captain of your ship. Running and hopping onto the back of the shopping cart. His hands gripped your shoulders, not the handle. His thumbs were everything you needed, prodding deep into your muscles. Fingertips perched on your collar bone. Exploring further down as the blur of houses came to a reasonable scroll when the fun slowed to a crawl.

“Satisfied?”

He wasn’t as close as he was in the grocery store, but you whipped your head around in hopes of catching a close look at his lips. It was worth it for his half-lidded eyes alone.

The last firework went off, illuminating his face in a lovely shade of red.

You said, “Let’s do it again.”

He said, “Absolutely not.”

~~~

The rest of the evening was much different from its rocky start.

Everyone was buzzing like bees. Playing music at random intervals, wrestling in the front yard, showing off their skate tricks. Demanding you do another backflip off the ramp, even though you did several already. Challenging you to arm wrestling matches on the hood of your car. Totally normal occurrences.

You clicked your tongue in a pitying gesture at Jeff. “Lost again.” He forked up another dollar by throwing it at you, muttering about how you must’ve cheated.

Later, minutes to midnight, it was almost as if they coordinated jamming together in the garage, only to make excuses to leave, right when you walked inside to tell them the rest of the fireworks were out of Eddie’s van.

“We’re gonna set those up!”

“Yeah, three heads are better than one.”

“Six hands are better than two!”

You had to wonder if they were always this ridiculous as they left you alone with Eddie in the most obvious way possible.

“Did you like that one?” he asked about the last song. His face was hidden behind the curtain of his hair, looking down at his guitar as he practiced a thrashy transition.

“Loved it.” And it was the whole truth spoken from the depths of your subconscious, where the sparks of old feelings resided, watching his mouth from afar, pressing his lips to the microphone as he spouted rather poetic lyrics about his brain being cracked open and spiders crawling out.

A smirk stretched his face. “Really?” He re-tuned the bottom strings of his guitar and turned a knob on his amp. “I figured you were more of this type.” Plucking a simple chord, he scrunched his nose, and oscillated the whammy bar while grooving on one of his pedals, acting like he was super into the psychedelic vibrato it created. “Something like that for, roughly, twenty-eight minutes while everyone is tripping on acid.”

“Ha-ha,” you deadpanned. He was annoying, but back to normal. Chewing on another stick of gum, covered in dirt from pinning Jeff in the front yard earlier. Blades of dead grass tangled in his curls. And you immersed yourself in your role as well, dwelling over the physical pain of not being able to explore the intimacy of removing them. To become familiar with the feel of his scalp beneath your fingers. To understand the proximity of his face near yours without aversion. To know the taste of his minty gum on your tongue..

Something dawned on you.

Spearmint.

Chewing gum since this afternoon.

No lighter.

His prickliness when you crossed him.

He hadn’t smoked today.

He was chewing gum to curb his compulsion for a cigarette. No drinking, or other drugs, either. He cared to have minty breath. He wanted to be sober. He cared to have minty breath, and he wanted to be sober for midnight.

Maybe you were spiraling into territory you shouldn’t, but the implication was too tangible to argue against.

A midnight kiss.

It was impossible to keep the softness out of your tone, and the delicate flutter from tainting your words, but you held fast, “Wanna watch the fireworks together?”

He read his watch. “Yeah, it’s almost time.”

~~~

The stairs leading to Gareth’s front door were cozy. It was impossible to share them with another person without touching. You were surprised Eddie agreed to sit with you, molded to one another from hip, to the length of your thighs, pressed together in foreign inseparability. Hands, arms, and elbows were curled in tight, but your shoulders bumped on occasion. The guys had their backs to you, giving you privacy, while they tied the final fuses of illegally purchased fireworks together, running low on matches.

Now, the inky black night was constantly alight with an assortment of colors in a range of patterns.

The neighborhood was alive with a countdown.

Your heart was in your throat. Pounding beats in your temples. It was coming.

Three matches were struck and shared. The guys danced around the pile in the street, shouting and giggling, and retreating to the end of the driveway, away from danger. But not far enough to witness Eddie running his sweaty palms over his jeans.

You couldn’t discern the numbers being counted. Your senses dulled. Tunnel vision for the man beside you. Everything else faded away.

“One!” someone shouted over the dozens of screeching fireworks being set off at once.

Eddie didn’t make a move.

But you did.

Leaning over the appropriate amount necessary to be heard, you spoke into his ear, smitten by the fortuitous tickle of his hair brushing over your nose, “Looks like it’s officially your year.”

You must’ve taken him off-guard.

Initially, he jumped. Or shivered, you didn’t know. But when he turned to look at you, he slowed at the introduction of your cheeks sliding along one another as he drew away. Separating once the corner of your lips were at risk of converging. His stubble was scratchy. Your skin was soft. Who knew.

His gaze bounced around your candid expression. Memorizing your raw innocence at the newness of the sensation, like you memorized his. “Yeah, I’ll finally graduate,” he agreed. His exhale landed on your lips. A caress. Your body longed for more. Then, with absolute confidence, he declared, “After that, I’m gonna follow you everywhere.”

What?

You urged your attention away from his lips, to his shy, brown eyes seeking yours, resisting the impulse to look away.

He displayed his hope in the timid dimple emerging in his cheek. “I don’t think college is in my future, but I’m good at other things. Fixing cars, working with my hands, charming bar owners into giving me a gig. I..” His tongue paused on the tip of his teeth. Vulnerability whelmed him; mouth falling open and closed as he found an ounce of bravery. “Olympics.. The circus, whatever.. Wherever you go, I’ll follow. So we never have to be alone again. We’ll have each other. Be together..” His shaky whisper went faint as his nerves stole his voice. “You need a best friend to take care of you. To keep you safe. I’ll keep you safe.. Forever.”

He used the dreaded label–best friends–but this time.. It didn’t bother you.

He promised you forever.

Rendered speechless, you uttered the first thing that came to mind, expecting him to go along with the joke, as if he wasn’t serious. “The circus is a lot more dangerous than falling off a skateboard. I could get hurt.”

“Not if I’m there to catch you.”

Your chest caved under the impact of the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to you. Fireworks burst in your stunned silence. Vision blurring with unadulterated happiness, managing a single, gravelly, “Okay,” amongst the content, and relieved, laugh you two shared, unsure of what this confession meant to either of you.

————

Jeff rapidly tapped the back of his hand on Lloyd’s chest. “I’m not wearing my glasses. Did they kiss?” he asked, excited.

Sighing, Lloyd let him down. “No.. But they do look happy.”

Gareth rolled his eyes. “How can they both be so stupid?”

————

Eddie knew he forfeited another chance at kissing you when he stopped leaning into your car, and wished you a safe drive, accepting the fact he wouldn’t see you again before you left. Your precious lips were right there, grinning at him with undue tenderness, eyes shining with an emotion he couldn’t place, but he couldn’t bring himself to risk it. Your futures were entwined now. He’d see you soon. Hopefully it wouldn’t take over three months for you to visit again, but he didn’t mind. It just meant more time for him to summon up the courage to almost, vaguely, in a roundabout way, with the caveat of being friends-only, sort of admit his feelings for you.

Still, he was proud of himself.

He wore his smile all the way home, putting a little pep in his step as he rushed up the stairs, and threw open the door to his trailer, scrambling for the pack of cigarettes and lighter he left on the kitchen counter.

Lord, he smoked through the first one in some kind of nicotine-induced euphoria.

He was in paradise. “Not if I’m there to catch you,” he mumbled to himself on his way to his room, swinging his arms, wholly intoxicated by his own charisma. “God, I’m corny.”

Tossing the carton of Camels on his nightstand, he went to put the lighter in his jacket pocket, and encountered what felt like wadded up papers stuffed inside. Pulling his hand out, he uncurled his fingers, and stared.

More hundred dollar bills than he’d ever had the pleasure of holding at once. A few twenties, too. Blood rushed to his cheeks. This was supposed to be a favor, and you snuck behind his back to pay him as if he were a real mechanic.. But that wasn’t the only thing that had his heart racing.

He flipped the accompanying Polaroid over.

The beach photo you promised. New Jersey 1985 written in the blank space at the bottom. More importantly, you in a bikini. Posed coyly with one arm crossed beneath your tits to create a gorgeous amount of cleavage, while staring into the camera with enough of a smirk to know what you were doing, while still being able to deny it.

After a beat, Eddie tipped his head and surrendered. He began unfastening his belt. “Great way to end the night, sweetheart.”

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