Blondie Wannabe: A Billy Hargrove Fanfic

Some Boy's Ego

Sorry this chapter took so long to get up, I had a lot of personal stuff to deal with, and then, a few days ago, I got sicker than I had in a long time. I'm still kind of sick, but I felt like writing, so here we are. Hope you enjoy!

I wanted nothing more than to rant for hours about Billy, debate whether he knew he'd fail and I'd have to deal with him for another semester or if he was just an utter dumbass. But I couldn't talk to Sal about him because he'd flip out that I'd be working with him for another five months, and the fact that I cared enough to complain would set off red flags. My parents and brother were out of the question as confidants, obviously. The only other person I saw regularly was Max Mayfield, and, though we'd grown close since Christmas break, I couldn't exactly rag on her step-brother to her face.

For the first time since moving back to Hawkins, I lamented my isolation. When Craig dumped me, he didn't just end our relationship, he stole all my friends from me. After we started dating, the few acquaintances I had drifted away, replaced by Craig's crew, and when we split, they stuck with him; not as mutual as I'd believed.

"Do you have a lot of friends?" I asked Sal one day after some bland missionary sex.

He shrugged, my head rising and falling with the muscles of his chest. "I guess, some from work, some from my live-share."

"Could you introduce me to them?"

"Sure, do you want to ask my father for permission to go steady too?"

I rolled my eyes, sitting up. "I'm just sick of only hanging out with teenagers and old school teachers all day; I was hoping you would introduce me to people my age."

"That might be difficult considering I'm not your age."

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How old are you again?"

"Guess."

I climbed out of bed, enjoying the way his eyes followed my naked body until I covered it with my purple bathrobe. "Well, you came to live with us when I was thirteen, and you just graduated high school, making you eighteen, so that's a five year age gap. I'm twenty-one, making you twenty-six or twenty-seven."

"Good deductive reasoning, Sherlock. Except you were twelve when Norman invited me to move in, and I'd just graduated a two-year college, making me twenty. So I'm twenty-nine now."

"Ooh, practically thirty," I said with a giggle. Sal didn't return my smile, scowling deeply. "What's wrong?"

"You make me feel old sometimes."

I pinched the bridge of my nose; all I wanted was for him to introduce me to his friends, and instead I'd induced a premature mid-life crisis. "I'm going to pee; I don't want to get a UTI."

My parents were in their room so I couldn't use the master bathroom. Thankfully, I had the foresight to move some of Mom's Vicodin into my room so I had easy access. I poured myself a glass of water, swallowing three pills at once while I peed, sitting on the toilet with my head in my hands long after I'd finished, waiting for the pills to take effect. 

Ever since I took Susan Hargrove's Codeine, nothing else quite scratched the itch. My mother's meds could take the edge off, make day to day activities more manageable, but the unthinking, unknowing, unbothered bliss I sought eluded me. I avoided Billy like the plague- even going so far as to duck behind a trashcan when he picked Max up from the arcade- so going to his house was out of the question. Maybe I could slam my thumb in a car door, that might get me some Codeine.

On my way back to Sal's room, I bumped into Steve. He wore shorts and a long-sleeved tee shirt, hair pulled back from his face with a sweatband.

"Going for a run?" I asked.