AKA: A slow burn story about a reluctant relationship that blossoms into more that's full of humor and drama. OR, Eddie hates that he's fallen in love with the new girl in town and tries and fails to keep her away.
Camila Torres is new to Hawkins...
"I've been left in the rain lost and pining I'm tryin' hard not to look like I'm trying 'Cause every time I tried hard for love, it fell apart I've gotten used to no one callin' my phone I've grown accustomed to sleepin' alone Still, I know that all it takes is to get it right Just one time, just one time
All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life And I want you now, wanna need you forever In the heat of your electric touch..."
-"Electric Touch (Taylor's Version) [From The Vault] (feat. Fall Out Boy)", Taylor Swift
*****
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I think it's somewhere around 11:30 AM when I finally wake up with my face smashed into a pillow. I prop myself up on my elbows and see Eddie still fast sleep with his back to me. He's so ridiculously beautiful when he sleeps it isn't even remotely fair.
When I stretch like a cat, the sweet soreness from the night before has me wincing, but smiling like an idiot. I carefully peel myself out of bed so I don't wake Eddie up and then tip toe around the room. He wasn't lying when he said I'd still feel him between my legs when I woke up. Oh, do I ever. The dull ache of his fullness inside me echoes between my legs with every step I take. As I'm heading to the bathroom to see what sort of sea creature I resemble, a speck of white by the door catches my eye and I realize once I get closer to it that it's just a piece of paper.
Brunch at noon downstairs.
Well. At least it's right to the point. I know it's from Nancy given the loose but beautifully defined cursive. I check the clock again and know that if I want to have any shot at looking remotely presentable, I have to rocket into the shower immediately.
I get into the bathroom and gasp like a teenage girl in a bad horror movie when I catch my reflection.
What in the fuck?
My fingers trace along my throat and collarbone and the pastel purple spot beginning to make itself known right at the bottom of my neck. A fucking hickey. Jesus. Well that's just perfect. To my delight, I also don't have any clean clothes up here.
As the water so hot you could probably boil food in it covers me I let my mind wander. Memories of darkened eyes and pleasure so intense my toes start to curl again flood my mind and I'm feeling warm from the inside out.
Once my hairs wet enough I start my search for shampoo. Gritting my teeth I brace myself to see what ridiculously awful ten in one shampoo combo Eddie probably uses, but am happily surprised when I see an actual normal bottle of men's shampoo that has a gift from Steve Harrington all over it. At the other end of the shower, a bright yellow bottle of shampoo stands out. Ah, Renée. Thank god for Renée.
