Stranger Love [Billy Hargrove]

Stranger Love - Chapter Thirteen

Stranger Love

Chapter Thirteen: Hallows Eve

Anya felt her heart racing as she pulled into the garage workshop, unsure as to how well her apology was going to be received.

On the understanding it was she who would have to extend the olive branch to Johnny, she'd come up with a plan to get him talking to her again. On visiting a few second-hand car dealers, Anya had successfully purchased an old, beaten up pickup truck. The colour had been white, apparently, but was now more the colour of the rust that had started eating at it's metal coverings.

Anya wasn't proud, or in any way bothered what her fellow peers might think of the rust bucket – she only needed a set of wheels to get her from A to B.

B being the destination she needed to solve the mystery of her father's murder.

Johnny's Dad had owned the garage since Anya could remember. He was the go to man in Hawkins for car repairs, and Johnny often worked there at weekends for the extra cash. Anya rolled into the workshop slowly, instantly spying Johnny hunched over something at his work station. His lean figure was dressed in blue overalls, splashes of oil and grease littering his bare arms and face.

In another life, in another time, Anya may have fallen for Johnny. He was the type who'd be there forever; the childhood sweetheart, the husband, the father and then the person you grew old with. Anya knew in her gut that Billy wasn't that type – not yet, anyway.

Johnny's eyes caught sight of her as she jumped down from her new truck. She hadn't really thought the height thing through. The pale autumn sunlight filtered over her hair, strands of brown illuminating through the ebony curls.

"Hey Johnny,"

For a moment he just continued to watch her, before he spoke. "Hi,"

"Can we talk?" Anya said hopefully, pulling off her sunglasses and placing them onto her head.

"I guess..."

"Look, I didn't mean for any of that to happen. When you asked me on that date I genuinely wanted to go out with you..." She stepped closer to him, the smell of engine oil hot in her nostrils. "I never meant to string you along and I certainly didn't want to hurt you,"

Johnny breathed heavily through his nose, the car part he was working on clunking down on the workspace with a thud. He rubbed the back of his neck, managing to get even more oil onto his skin. "Anya...I've known you my whole life...I know you didn't want to hurt me. I guess...I guess that guy just gets under my skin, you know? I wanted to talk to you, I really did, but he always seems to be around you."

"I don't want this to be about Billy. I want it to be about me and you! Even if we aren't going to date, can we at least go back to being friends? I would hate to lose you," Anya gave him a pleading look.

"Well, when you look at me like that, how can I say no?" Johnny sighed, a small, crooked smile on his lips. "Can you tell me where on earth you got this heap of junk?" He gestured to her pickup, looking very sorry for itself in the middle of the garage.

Anya chuckled, a weight lifting itself from her heart. "Darryl's Dealers,"

"You mean junkyard?"

"Hey! It may be a bit...old...but it has character! It was all I could afford," Anya laughed, the pair of them giggling before falling into silence again. She looked up at him with warm eyes, giving him a slight nudge with her elbow. "Thanks for forgiving me,"

"I forgive you. But don't ask me to forgive Hargrove. You don't want this to be about him, I get that, but Anya...he is no good for you. He is bad news through and through,"