𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 • Steve Harrington

Chapter 20

It was just her luck that the one day she needed to be sat across from Steve in a booth at Benny's, the diner was closed.

"We are closed indefinitely," Steve read the notice on the door. His face contorted. "Indefinitely? Does that mean undecidedly or something?"

"It means forever, Steve," Julie tells him sternly. "I mean, why today, of all days?"

"But they were opened just yesterday. Did Earl say anything or-?"

"No," she interjects. "He gave zero indication that it was the end of the line."

"He probably didn't want you to worry, especially when you're so good at it."

There was a long pause, and Steve couldn't read her mind, even though he tried as hard as he could. She looked broken and despaired in a way he hadn't seen her before. He just wanted to make her feel okay.

She walked along the side of the diner until she was seated at the bench farthest to the left. She just let her body drop itself down as she stared into the distance. And once Steve joined her, he immediately rubbed her back.

"He tried his best to work things out," he said. "That was all he could do."

"It's not just that. It just feels like a bad omen."

His eyebrows pushed together as he slowed the small circles he rubbed into her back. "A bad omen for what?"

She dropped her eyes from where she'd been staring ahead, and slipped her hand into her messenger bag strapped across her. She pulled out the Stanford letter, still unopened in its envelope, and handed it over to him.

"Is that...?"

"Yeah," Julie sealed her lips as he took it.

His face paled. "Shit."

Seeing the worry written across him made her feel mountains worse, but she didn't have the energy to show it. She didn't consider herself an outwardly expressive person, but in this instance she couldn't see how she couldn't be.

"Well, none of this has to mean anything," Steve affirmed confidently, his hand unmoving from her back. "It's just a stupid coincidence.

"But you wanna know something? We don't need it. We don't need the diner, all right? We never did. It's just you and me like always. That's all we need."

"Can you open it?" she asked tentatively. "And then based on your reaction I can decide whether I want to read it or run it through a shredder."

"Course," Steve said softly.

Lost in the dejected blues of her eyes for a long moment, he finally moved his hand from her back.

And as he ran his finger underneath the envelope flap, making the first tear, Julie inhaled, "I think I'm gonna hurl," and exhaled.

"Not all over the mustard yellow sweater that matches my mustard yellow eyes, you're not," Steve teased, cracking a smile at the corner of her lips.

He kept tearing, the sound of the paper ripping running through her chest, until Steve's finger flicked through the end, leaving them in silence again.

"The ambience really makes for dramatic effect."

Julie rolled her eyes. "Hurry up already. Please."

"Okay, okay." He pinched at the letter inside and unfolded it.

Then as his eyes ran along it, his face remained placid and indiscernible. It was killing Julie that she couldn't get a hand on what he was thinking.

Until finally looked at her. Just looked at her. He didn't smile. He didn't frown.