Dancing Queen ~Steven Hyde x fem OC~

Back in Rotation

Moving out of the Formans' home and back into her own newly fumigated house wasn't hard for Itzel—not physically, at least. She missed the creaky, cold wood floors and the quiet comfort of being in her own space, where every corner carried a memory. But what loomed over her now was the harder part: reintegrating herself back into the group she'd spent so long avoiding. Before living with the Formans, it had been easy to stay distant. Her uncle's rule about not hanging around boys had been a convenient excuse, a shield to hide behind. But now, with days of her absence piling up, cracks had started forming in those bonds. If she wanted to preserve her friendships, she'd have to face them again, no matter how raw the thought made her feel.

The school bell rang, its shrill sound echoing down the tiled halls and snapping Itzel out of her thoughts. She shuffled through the crowd of students heading to lockers and buses, her steps hesitant. She could lie, tell them her mom picked her up, and ride the bus instead. It would be easier—safer even—but she knew she couldn't keep running forever. Friendships only lasted when both sides fought for them, and she wasn't ready to lose the good parts of her life just yet.

If Hyde had told them about the kiss, she thought, everything might already be ruined. Her stomach twisted as she imagined the laughter, the stares, the teasing they were so good at. Her fingers curled into fists in her denim mini skirt pockets, the fabric stiff against her palms. Swallowing her fear, she forced herself forward. She would face them—whatever that meant now.

When she reached the parking lot, she spotted the Vista Cruiser immediately. Except Eric was the only one leaning against it, his lanky frame relaxed as he spun the keys around his finger. His face lit up when he saw her, the kind of easy grin that had been missing from her life for weeks now.

"Where's everybody else?" Itzel asked, her voice quieter than she'd intended as she tugged her hands free from her shallow pockets.

Eric shook his head, his grin widening as if he were in on some private joke. "It's just me and you today," he said, climbing into the driver's seat. He paused, looking back at her with a tilt of his head. "Like old times."

Her heart squeezed at the words. Old times. Those were the days when it was just the two of them—before Hyde, Donna, Jackie, and Fez, before the laughter-filled basement and the secrets. Back then, Eric wasn't trying so hard to seem cool, and she wasn't so weighed down by things she couldn't bring herself to say. She slid into the passenger seat, the familiar smell of the car wrapping around her like an old blanket.

"Old times," she repeated softly, letting the door close behind her with a gentle thud. For a moment, she let herself believe it could be that simple again. The hum of the engine filled the silence as Eric pulled out of the school parking lot, his hands resting casually on the wheel. The warm afternoon sun poured through the windshield, casting fleeting shadows over the dashboard as the Vista Cruiser rolled down the familiar streets. Itzel stared out the window, tracing the patterns of houses and trees she'd seen a thousand times, her mind wandering in a fog of unease.

"So," Eric began, his tone light but probing, "Fells nice being back home, huh?" He didn't look at her, keeping his eyes on the road, but the shift in his voice made her glance at him.

"Yeah," she replied, her tone guarded. She pressed her palms together in her lap, fidgeting with a loose thread on her skirt.

Eric didn't push right away. He let the silence stretch out, the soft hum of the car filling the void. Then, after a moment, he spoke again, quieter this time. "You don't come around much anymore."

Itzel hesitated, her chest tightening as if the air in the car had suddenly grown thinner. "I've been busy," she offered, the lie slipping from her lips too easily.

"Busy?" Eric repeated with a raised brow, a hint of the teasing she used to find comforting slipping into his voice. "You're always busy. Itzel-busy used to mean, like, cleaning your room or watching reruns of The Twilight Zone. Now it's... disappearing."

Her gaze dropped to her hands. She didn't know how to answer, didn't know how to explain the weight she carried every time she thought about the basement, Hyde, or even herself.

Eric sighed, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as they stopped at a red light. "You know," he said softly, "whatever it is, we're still your friends. You don't have to figure it out alone."

The words sat between them, heavy but kind. Itzel turned her head toward the window again, the reflection of the trees rushing past blending into a blur. Tears approached her water line filled with the secrets she wanted to scream out .The car grew quieter as they neared her house, the weight of unsaid words hanging between them. Itzel kept her eyes on the passing scenery, her fingers twitching against her knees. She could feel Eric glancing at her from the corner of his eye, but he stayed silent for the most part, as if waiting for her to say something first.

Finally, the familiar sight of her house came into view. Eric slowed the car, the engine grumbling as it rolled to a stop in front of her driveway. He shifted into park and turned to her, his expression softer now, almost hesitant.

"Itzel," he said, breaking the silence. "You know I'm not trying to pry or anything, but... are you okay? Like, actually okay?"

She froze, her hand halfway to the door handle. For a second, she thought about brushing it off, cracking a joke like she usually did when things got too real. But the way Eric was looking at her—concerned but not pitying, patient but not pushy—made her chest ache.

"I'm fine," she lied, her voice tight. "Seriously. Just... you know, stuff with my mom and school. The usual."

Eric tilted his head, unconvinced. "Come on, Jello. I'm not Hyde—I can tell when you're full of it."

The mention of Hyde made her stomach twist, and she looked away, biting her lip. "I'm fine," she repeated, more forcefully this time, though even she didn't believe it.

Eric sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Alright," he said finally, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "But just so you know, I'm here. And I don't care what it is—I won't judge. Unless it's something really weird, like you joined a cult or started collecting troll dolls. Then I might judge a little."

A reluctant smile tugged at her lips, and she rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Eric. That's really comforting."

She opened the door and stepped out, the cool air hitting her skin. Before she closed it behind her, she hesitated, looking back at him.

"Hey," Eric called out before she could say anything. "We're all hanging out at the basement tomorrow—just, you know, usual dumb stuff. You should come."

Itzel hesitated, her fingers curling around the edge of the door. "Yeah, maybe," she said, trying to sound casual.

"No 'maybe,'" Eric pressed, raising a finger in mock seriousness. "We need our resident Itzel sarcasm back in the rotation. It's been way too much Jackie lately, and I'm barely holding on over here."

A reluctant laugh escaped her, and she shook her head. "Fine, I'll think about it."

Eric grinned, clearly satisfied with her noncommittal answer. "Great. See you tomorrow then—unless you're planning to ditch us again, in which case, I'll just guilt-trip you until you show up."

"That sounds exactly like you," she shot back, a small smirk playing on her lips.

"Hey, it works," he said with a shrug before leaning out the window. "Later, Jello."

As the Vista Cruiser pulled away and disappeared down the street, Itzel turned and walked up her driveway. Despite the knot still tightening in her chest whenever she thought about the basement—or more specifically, Hyde—Eric's invitation left her with the faintest spark of hope. Maybe tomorrow wouldn't be so bad.