Really? ||Steve Harrington x Female Reader||

Trick or Treat, Freak: Pt. 2

I took one last look at myself in the mirror, trying to decide if I still wanted to go. I was still tired from... whatever had happened earlier. But maybe this was exactly what I needed: some sort of distraction. I'd have Steve and Nancy there, Billy claimed he was going, and there was probably gonna be alcohol. What more did I have to lose?

The clock read 7:25, and Steve was always early, so I headed to the living room. Mom was in there, adjusting Dustin's costume so every little piece was perfect. When she heard me, she glanced up and smiled.

"I knew you were gonna dress up," she joked.

"I mean, the invitation specifically said 'Dress up'," I informed.

"Well, you know the rules-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. No drinking and driving, don't do actual drugs, and don't go off alone," I recited. "I promise Mom, I'll be careful."

Someone honked in the front yard. I glanced out the window and saw Steve's maroon car. "Steve's here. I'll see you later."

"Bye, Y/n!" Dustin waved. I gave him and my mom a quick side hug before running out the door.

"Nice costume," Nancy complimented after we were on the road.

"Thanks," I smiled. "And you guys are..."

"Joel Goodson and Lana!" Steve answered, gesturing to their costumes. "Y'know, from Risky Business?"

"Yeah, I got it," I chuckled.

About five minutes later, Steve parked on the side of the road a block from Tina's house. From where we were, I could clearly hear head-pounding music. The neighbors were gonna hate us tonight.

"Now, listen, Henderson, if anything feels off, get one of us," Steve sternly ordered.

"Yeah, yeah, ok," I snapped. "But I'm not gonna bother you because nothing's gonna happen."

"We don't know that," Nancy reminded. "Unless you know something that we don't?"

"Nothing's gonna happen," I repeated. We walked up the long driveway, passing by dressed up classmates. "We're meeting at eleven, right?"

"Yeah," Steve confirmed. "Don't get too drunk."

"No promises," I smiled. From the back of the house, I could hear people screaming numbers. Intrigued, I headed off, alone.

Rounding the corner, I fell right into the middle of a horde of people.

"Seventeen! Eighteen! Nin-" The chanting stopped, replaced by cheering. I pushed through the crowd and saw someone standing in the center, panting over a keg barrel.

"Eighteen seconds!" someone shouted. "Who's next?"

Some guy from my grade stepped forward, accompanied by two others. They lifted his legs as he chugged the beer, everyone else starting to count.

"One!" I joined in. "Two! Three!"

"Hey there, sweetheart."

I turned around, my face heating up as I saw Billy. "Oh, hey!"

His arm snaked around my waist as a cigarette dangled from his lips. A puff of cigarette smoke went my way, quickly contaminating my lungs. I stifled a cough, not wanting to appear rude, but felt like I was going to die.

"Keg stand?"

I coughed, "Yep."

Just as I finished answering his question, cheering erupted around us as someone yelled, "Twenty-five seconds!" Not even close to Steve's record.