𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 • Steve Harrington

Chapter 3

It didn't help that the last piece of self-reflection put down to paper ended up crumbled and lying in the backseat of his car until a middle schooler found it and made it sound substantially better.

Although, this letter didn't sound the same as a college application. Sure, they're both as exposing, but beyond the surface level difference of what they require, there was a difference in who was reading his words. How much could he bare to admit—to his principal no less?

He started to wonder about Julie too. He didn't stare at her for too long, afraid of being caught again, but she twisted her pencil back and forth against the side of her head as if trying to gear her brain into thinking.

Her sheets of paper were no doubt just as blank as his.

He twiddled his pen again, and he wasn't sure how long he had been doing so when the sound of lead finally cut through the air.

She was writing something.

And something turned into a lot.

A lot turning into what felt like never ending.

Until it stopped and she sharply turned around. "Can you stop staring?"

"Sorry," Steve shuffled in his seat a little. "I didn't realise I was."

"Well, you are and it's freaking me out."

"Sorry. It's just..."

Julie's eyebrows rose, prompting him to get to a point.

"How did you end up here? You don't strike me as the kind of person that gets detentions, let alone Saturdays."

"And just out of interest," she turned in her seat more, resting her elbow on the back of her chair, "what kind of person do I strike you as?"

"The kind that's too smart to let themselves get into shit."

"Well, I guess people aren't always what they seem." Even though she was smiling, it was spiked with a venom Steve could tell she wanted to poison him with from across the room.

"Did I do something to offend you?" he asked bemusedly. "You just seem pissed off or something."

"Am I supposed to be happy that I'm in detention on a Saturday?"

He sealed his lips shut. "Point taken."

Julie observed him now that he had chosen to surrender and drop his focus on her. She couldn't decide if he cared to know or if he was just trying to make conversation and avert from the awkwardness of an uncomfortable silence.

But she sat back again and proceeded pushing her pencil.

She was about two arrows and three bullet points along when Steve asked, "What did you do to end up here?"

"I pulled the fire alarm," she says without turning around.

"That was you?"

"Yeah," she smiles at the noticeable shock in his voice. "Then I sold crack to freshmen in my free period, played hooky during my fifth. It's a miracle I got let off the hook so easy."

"Fine. Don't tell me. I was just trying to be nice."

After a long moment, Julie's smile faltered and her hand stopped moving. It was one guilty heartstring that played itself in the pit of her chest, but it was enough to make her turn around in spite of her begrudging reluctance.

Steve was writing sulkily.

"Some girls ratted on me for smoking in a bathroom stall."

Steve looked up.

"Just before you called after me at school the other day, so... if I was a bitch to you then, that's probably why. And I'm sorry."

Steve couldn't decide what he was more surprised by in her confession, but his foul mood disappeared. "I accept your apology."

"Okay, you don't have to be a dick about it," she rolled her eyes.

"I wasn't trying to be a dick."

"Well, you just sounded like a dick."

"Then I'm sorry for sounding like a dick."

She regarded him for a long moment, surprised by how well he kept up.

"I accept your apology," she mimicked him, and Steve wasn't sure why, but he smiled regardless.

"I got into a fight with Tommy H," he admitted, earning Julie's genuine attention. "He was the other person that was supposed to be here today."

"Over what?"

"It was stupid. I let some crap he said get to me and I should've had thicker skin."

She angled her body towards him more. "Is that where you got the shiner from?"

"No, that was a different fight."

"Jesus," she scoffed a laugh, "I didn't know you were such a punk, Harrington."

"They weren't normal occurrences to say the least."

"Well, did you at least win?"

"I kicked their asses," he jested.

"Damn," she uttered, picking up on it. "That means if you had a black eye..."

"You should have seen the other guy."

She laughed, and Steve couldn't help but smile ever so slightly. Making her laugh felt like a real accomplishment, and even more than that, her laughter wasn't a terrible thing to hear.

"No, I had my ass handed to me."

Her head jerked forward with incredulity. "By Tommy H?"

"No, the guy probably has a concussion."

"Well, it's not like he can lose a brain he never had."

"It's the mouth I really wish I had done something about," he smiles, and she smiles, too. He gestures to his left eye, "But as for the panda patch, that was all Billy Hargrove. The dude's a piece of work."

"Don't you run in the same circles as these guys? Are you not friends?"

"Billy?" he almost laughs. "Never."

Her eyes narrowed at the way something in him began to shift, almost like he was a little disheartened.

"But Tommy H..." He nods. "We used to be. But that's a long story."

Julie sighed dramatically. "If only we had time."

Steve picked up his eyes, finding her's easily, and her lips twisted up into a slanted smile. She was teasing him, but not like before. She wasn't trying to work up a nerve in him or stalling any deflected irritation she was feeling.

This time she was showing she cared. And for one reason or another, Steve truly believed that she did.