𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 • Steve Harrington

Chapter 27

They were sat on the couch in Steve's house, waiting for the brownies to kick in.

Julie liked Steve's house. Steve liked Julie's house. But tonight it amounted to the conference Steve's father was attending in Chicago. His mother was in Chicago also, although, in Steve's words, that was strictly because she doesn't trust her husband. Steve went on to add that, in all fairness, his father had never given her any good reason to.

Steve had his elbow hooked over the back of the sofa, unable to hold his focus on the television as hard as he tried. "How has it still not kicked in yet?" he lamented.

They were watching an episode of Family Ties. Eileen had roped them into it, the same way Scott roped her into it, and quickly it became tradition in their family and relationships alike.

Julie's eyes were fixed on the screen. She was really into it, same as always, so she didn't tear her focus away, even with her legs hooked over Steve's at her knees. "I don't know, but a little patience never hurt anyone."

"I can do patient."

"Clearly."

"I'm the coolest," he tapped her thigh. "Cool as cucumber, that's me."

"Or a fire."

Steve's eyebrows drew together. "What?"

"Sharp as a knife, too." She met his eyes already looking at her. "You really are a keeper, aren't you?"

He slowly edged closer to her and let the hand on her thigh travel down her side. "Well, this keeper just figured out a way to pass some sweet sweet time."

"What? Like washing the Farrah Fawcett spray out your hair?" Her eyes flickered up to his blowout.

Steve exhaled, suddenly stopping just inches away from her, his eyelids pressing shut. "What is up with that kid and not learning to keep his trap shut?"

"Okay, drop the unnecessary attack on Dustin. You're the one that needs to learn to hide your products better." When Steve only looked at her bemusedly, she explained further. "You left a can out on your dresser last week."

"Shit."

"And a flyer for the new mall with a couple numbers on the back." Her eyes searched his closely as her hand ran over his upper arm clothed in a pine green sweater and leant against the back of the sofa. "Wanna tell me what that's all about?"

He played with the hem of her purple sleeve. "I didn't really wanna say anything yet in case I jinx it, but I applied to a couple places there. They're taking applications before it opens."

"What did you apply for?" she asked, earning nothing more than the zipping of his lips and the tossing of an invisible key. "Are you kidding?"

"It's out of my hands," he shrugged, "and quite honestly humiliating, so."

"I've seen you coughing like you have asthma after one pull of a joint, followed by an agonising hour of your on-again, off-again raging paranoia. And do not get me started on the puking. What could be worse than any of that?"

He tightly smiled and said, "Let's not find out."

"Let's not keep secrets more like," she ran her hand up his shoulder and traced it to the nape of his neck to run her fingers through his hair. "Come on. Tell me."

Julie was good at holding her own. If she wanted to be stubborn, there was never an expiry date on the emotion, but Steve never could make it a minute with her. He had an impulse to give in to her at all times.

"Well, I applied to a couple clothing stores," he told her, "JCPenney and all that, nothing major."

"Cool. Very nice," she enthused. "What else?"