𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 • Robin Buckley

Chapter 3

Just then, a line of jocks ran through the crowd from the front of the house, heading for the back, and Monica latched onto Robin by her elbow, pulling her aside so they weren't trampled on. The space between them decreased and was near enough to nonexistent, but only Robin seemed to notice, slowly forgetting how to control the nerves coursing through her. Monica's eyes followed the members of the basketball team, laughing at their idiocy.

"God," she rolls her eyes, letting them land on the brunette already looking at her. "I already feel a migraine coming on and I've barely touched anything yet. D'you want a drink?"

"Sure!"

Monica, not having taking her hand off Robin's arm, slid it down to Robin's fingers and interlocked them loosely enough that she could drag her through the suffocating mass of teenagers. She greeted every other person she passed with a massive smile meeting her eyes.

Monica let go of Robin once they had made it to the emptier open kitchen with only a pair of teenagers swapping saliva whilst a few just lingered and made shitty small talk to pass the time. Monica stopped by the bowl of punch, putting her own cup down. It was clouded with smoke to the point you could barely see the colour of the punch underneath.

"What is in that?" Robin's eyebrows cinch.

"No one knows," Monica broods ominously. "It's just vodka, fruit juice and some other stuff probably. You can't knock it til you try it."

Robin looked at the way Monica rested her hand against the counter, staring at her expectantly. She couldn't say no to a face like that. So, she rolled up the sleeves of her blazer, grabbed a cup and scooped.

Monica took the moment to take Robin in properly. Her gelled back hair, the blush on her face to make her cheekbones more defined, the smokey eyes and rosy lips down to the way her slacks were rolled up at her ankles and showing off her odd coloured socks—the left sock hot dog patterned and the right sock plainly bright green.

Monica smiled to herself just as Robin craned back her head, necking back the drink. She squirmed a little at the taste, sticking out her tongue. "It tastes like armpit." She put the cup back down, shaking out her hand.

"It's all part of the rush," Monica says wryly. "So, where's your other half?"

"I don't know," Robin looked amongst the crowd in front of them. "I just went looking around and he got lost."

"Got lost? What is he, your pet?"

"No, I just meant I went looking for you so we kind of—" she stopped herself, blinking hard. "You were messing with me, weren't you?"

"I basically always am. It's kind of the catch with me."

"I'm the same usually. It's a motormouth thing I think on my part. My mouth does this thing where it moves faster than my brain and by the time I've managed to get myself to stop talking I've already dug myself into a whole deeper than the Earth's core, kind of like I am now." Robin lets herself take a deep breath at the sight of Monica's side smile.

"I noticed. It's one of my favourite things about you." She looks over the freckles scattered across Robin's fair skin. "It's cute in a dorky way. Milton's lucky."

Robin's eyebrows drew together at the sight of a smirk tugging on Monica's lips and stood up a little straighter. "Wait, you don't think... Milton and I are nothing. Well, we're friends and even then barely. We're not that close. Close enough to decide on joint costumes I suppose, even though I did kind of corner him into that. His words, not mine."

Monica rose her eyebrows.

"We're just friends. Really. I meant it when I said I've never dated anyone. My love life is as nonexistent as Santa Claus."

That spilled a laugh from Monica's lips, her head shaking a little in a way that she noticed it only did with Robin.

"Really," Robin's smiling, too. "Just friends, I swear."

"Well, maybe tonight's the night your luck changes."

Robin cringes. "I highly doubt that."

Monica's eyebrows furrow. "Why?"

"It's not that I worry I wouldn't be anyone's type or anything— Well, I do worry, I'm only human but..." she takes a deep breath, "I'm just not that kind of girl. In general I mean."

"Then what kind of girl are you really?"

"The kind that doesn't want a guy," Robin winces almost as her eyes squint with hesitance. "I really believe in the philosophy that there are girls out there that don't even need men really. Women can just exist for the sake of existing and living without"—she weaves her fingers—"binding with men. They can simply coexist and it doesn't invalidate them or make them any less normal."

"And that's what you want?"

"It is." When Monica said nothing, Robin's heart picked up in her chest. "Do you think that's weird?"

"I think it's stellar."

"Really?" Robin scoffed, an awkward smile working its way on her face.

"Absolutely," Monica smiles.

And when it felt like the ground might have fallen beneath Robin's feet and her body would collapse into it, Billy Hargrove appeared at Monica's side in blue jeans and the infamous leather jacket without a shirt underneath. His torso was shiny with sweat, so Robin understood the discomfort riddling Monica's face the moment he wrapped his arms around her.

"You're looking at Hawkins' new keg king."

"I'm smelling him, too," Monica sends Robin a look that Robin lowers. She felt like she was intruding, so she tried to train her eyes on the punch and pick up a cup or something but she found herself sneaking glances as Monica looked at the guy rested at her shoulder.

"Let's go somewhere," he says, his voice hoarse and low.

"Where?" Monica scoffs.

"Anywhere that's not here. Right now. You and me."

"Right now I'm talking to Annie Lennox," Monica looks over at Robin who awkwardly smiles when she's mentioned and takes the permission to meet her eyes momentarily.

Billy rolls his eyes, "That can wait." He holds the intensely penetrative eye contact with Monica, leaning his forehead against her own. "I need you."

"Well, need me somewhere else," Monica pulls away, moving his hands off her body. "I'll find you later."

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, shaking his head. "Suit yourself." And like that, he's rounding the counter and disappearing into the crowd again.

"Maybe I should start investing in your philosophy." Monica gets herself a cup of punch, scooping and sipping.

"As you please. There's always room for more, especially considering the fact it has accumulated a current total of one allegedly cool loser," Robin holds up her pointer finger.

Monica swallows down the punch, pointing at Robin with the hand holding her cup, the other resting her weight into the counter. "One allegedly self-aware cool loser."

Robin laughs and watches as Monica necks back the rest of the drink and hits down the cup once it's empty. She sighs, relieved. "Do you wanna go somewhere?" she asks genuinely first, before hearing the echo of Billy's voice she felt suddenly compelled to mock. "Right now. You and me."

Robin rolls her eyes to the back of her head and holds her arms out theatrically. "Take me away."

Monica laughs, then loops her pointer finger in one of Robin's belt straps, tugging a little. "Come on."