Gunsmoke » B. Hargrove

seventeen

Zara exited the closet with a blank expression, her eyes rolling as she stomped across the room and jumped into the bed beside him. "If you knew where I was then why'd you ask?"

"Guess I wanted to see if you'd tell me the truth."

She sighed, her shoulders slumping as she slid her bare toes under the warmth of her plush duvet. "We went on a date."

"Lucas said you left after breakfast—you just got home."

"It was a thorough date," Zara's words dragged on as she tugged her favorite pillow from under Steve's back; fluffing it generously before resting her head on the cool side. "—very extensive."

There was a brief pause, Steve's eyes drifting off into space before he responded with a sigh. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah, actually." Zara rested her back against the wall, the cool chill bit at her exposed skin but she didn't shy away from it, her brain too distracted by the all-consuming memories of Billy Hargrove. Their date had consisted of more than just teasing and sex—though she definitely had indulged in a second round—or three. But the point was, after her clothes were back on, Billy still wanted to be around her. They'd spent hours in his car shuffling through his music, introducing her to new songs and humming the melodies in his raspy voice. He didn't even complain when Zara stepped onto the hood of his car, balancing carefully into the roof to watch the sunset as they'd talked a little more about themselves. He'd even waited until she'd made it inside before he drove away when the night had come to an end. "It was sort of perfect."

"So, you like him?"

Zara raised from the bed yet again, haphazardly grabbing a moist towelette to wipe off her makeup. "Yeah," She admitted after wiping off the concealer from under her eyes, the skin tint she'd applied earlier rubbing off with little effort. "I think I do."

Steve nodded to himself, watching from afar as Zara smiled the more she reminisced about the night. He wasn't a bad friend—he was supportive and genuinely wanted the best for her; and fucking Billy Hargrove? No way he was what was best for Zara Sinclair. "I'm happy for you but I just want you to careful, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt."

"He's not going to hurt me besides we aren't even really a thing yet—it was just one date."

"A date that lasted nearly ten hours," Steve deadpanned, tucking his feet under the warmth of her fluffy duvet; Mrs. Sinclair always insisted on leaving the central air running on its lowest setting at nighttime and Harrington could admit that it was fucking cold. "That doesn't just happen; that takes like genuine chemistry."

"Right!" Zara gushed, nearly forgetting that Steve wasn't exactly 'one of the girls'. "I could barely tell any time had passed—there was effortless conversation; perfect sarcasm. Even his—never mind."

Steve's arms crossed over his shoulder, yet his face held nothing but curiosity. She'd nearly smacked herself, mentally scolding her stupid mouth from moving at all. "No, tell me. Even his what?"

The makeup filled wipe dropped from her grasp and into the black trash can Zara had stored in the corner. The mattress dipped when she returned to it with a sheepish grin on her face. "Even his dick was perfect—I've literally never cum that hard in my life. I'm genuinely a little addicted."

"Really? That good?" He hummed under his breath. "So, that's why you were walking like that?"

"Walking like what?"

"Well, walking like you'd just been fucked."

Zara hid her face in the safety of her hands. "I had to pay my little sister to cover for me with no underwear on—he kept them; held them up to his face while he was fucking me and everything. Steve, I think," Her words were coming out a mile a minute, finally letting loose and dropping the details the way she usually would with him. "—I think I could live the rest of my life pushing his buttons if that was the sex I was promised every time afterwards."

Steve's brows were strewn so far up his forehead they nearly jumped back his hairline and reclaimed homage in his messy hair—gosh it must've been a while since he'd properly styled it; which really wasn't like him. Maybe the whole Nancy and Johnathan thing was getting to him a little bit—but this was the perfect distraction. A wonderful change of pace from the freakish events that had taken place a few months prior; the same events that led to the separation of Steve and Nancy Wheeler.

Zara had been rambling on about her night, her hands slapping excitedly at her thighs as she remembered something new that she'd hadn't yet told him—the brown of her eyes seeming to melt like a chocolate fountain as she fondly regarded the music Billy had shown her; she'd even recited a few tunes. Endless little laughs and giggles erupted from her,  joy evident on her features and Harrington finally remembered once more why Zara could never be involved. Why he could never tell her about Hawkins Lab, or Eleven, or even the demegorgon that had been responsible for Will Byer's odd disappearance.

"You okay, Harrington?"

Steve jumped slightly, eyes fluttering as he pulled his glasses from his eyes and tossed them on her side table. He'd flicked her lamp off and snuggled deep under her covers. "I'm okay, just like hearing you happy s'all." Zara's covers smelled so nice, the warmth lulling his muscles relaxed as he peered up at her expectantly. "Keep going, I know there's more."

A smile broke out across her face, her body copying his and soon they're face to face and snuggled up and gossiping like schoolchildren; just how they had for as long as they could remember—Zara didn't even notice when he'd fallen asleep, her gentle laughs dying off when she heard him softly snore.

Gentle hands slid his glasses from the perch of his nose to set them on the bedside table. "Night, Stevie."