Apocalypse, Steve Harrington

Chapter Twenty-Five. Just Like Your Mother

    She nodded. "Precisely," Lucy spoke. "If that's even Tom..." Drinking her milkshake, the girl hummed in satisfaction. "Chocolate is just better."

Steve widened his eyes. "Whatever you say, Hop."

    They sipped silently at their drinks. Then, a car breezed past— it was shockingly fast, and both of them backed up. Her hair blew back (so did his), and they glanced at each other, eyes wide with surprise. Then, Lucy smiled. A laugh unraveled from her lips, and she couldn't stop.

"What's so funny?" he resisted the urge to chuckle, brow furrowed.

She shook her head. "No, it's not funny at all. It's just—" Lucy cupped a hand around her mouth. "Imagine, that car made a bad turn, or something. Then, we would've been made pancakes outside of Tom's Diner."

Steve scoffed, amused. "Why was that the first thing you thought of?"

"I don't know!" she crossed her legs, smiling. "Because, in my obituary, it would've said I died with Steve Harrington— I'd come back from the dead, just to murder the editor."

He choked on his milkshake. "What did I do?"

She sighed, letting her chest fall flat. Blinking, Lucy turned to him. "Nothing, everything. I don't know," she shrugged. "I guess— if I died next to you last year, I'd be pissed."

Steve blinked. "And, this year?"

Lucy swirled her straw in the milkshake. "This year..." she began. "Maybe, I'd be okay with it."

    A grin tugged on his lips. Nodding, he sighed. "I'll take it."

    She nodded, as well. "I'll call a truce with you, Stevie."

    His brow twitched. "A truce?" he tilted his head. "I didn't know we were fighting."

    "Oh, we were," she replied, fighting the smirk on her lips. "We can be friends now, though."

Steve's shoulders fell. He looked away, nodded, and put his attention back on the milkshake. Lips pursed, he plucked the cherry from his milkshake, twisting the stem in between his fingers. "I fuckin' hate this things," he spoke, grimacing.

    Her brows raised. "You don't like maraschino cherries?" She was staring at him like he had six heads, "Get out."

    Steve shook his head. "I can't even think of them without gagging," he shuddered, "What, do you want it?"

"Yes, please," she smiled. "I ate mine the second you handed me my shake— the millisecond, even."

    Steve scoffed and held the cherry up, still delicately pinching it by the stem. He shifted his arm over and held it before the girls face. "It's all yours, Hop."

    Lucy grinned and opened her mouth, biting just the cherry and yanking it from the stem. A smile tugged on his lips, and he watched as she chomped at the artificial fruit. Sighing in satisfaction, she rubbed her hands together. "Jesus Christ, it's freezing," her teeth chattered. "We should've stayed inside— you're an idiot for not yanking me back in."