𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | steve harrington

chapter five

Steve Harrington had been promoted for the sole reason that his manger was stuck in Disneyland Florida with the kids he barely got to see. He was stuck taking phone calls and brushing over paper applications. He bit on pencils and sat lain across the old sofa before the store even opened. It's not as though he had to open it for a certain time when the shop span in his favour.

He'd slept in that day and awoke to hear his dad yelling at him. His father was all tight ties and coffee hungry in the morning. He slept around but his mom knew. They wouldn't divorce because they cared more for image than love. His mom was tired, his dad just getting started. He looked like neither, or he just convinced himself of that. Steve's dad was balding, his mom got her hair done every week and sat behind magazines gossiping about those she believed lower than her. But she was textbook beautiful with a prominent Cupid's bow and a light flush of bronze that added to her model-like face and tall frame. Steve's dad was an idiot for ruining things for her.

Steve's mom wasn't a good mom however. She was image all over, housewife dresses and aprons tied around her waist. She was kitten heels and expensive earrings. She had to look good every time she left the house. Steve had to fit in, be popular and athletic. If she couldn't have a girl, Steve would have to make up for that in any way he possibly could because of course his gender was his fault and no one else's. How dare he be a man, how could they ever forgive him?

His dad had been happy with a boy until that boy was Steve. From that point he'd been a nightmare. Meeting office buddies and knowing if he said anything wrong it'd be over but he didn't have a script and he'd never been a natural. It was how he walked around town, who he dated. Nancy Wheeler was good but once he'd dated Emma Hannigan and that had been a terrible plan because Emma was poor and her mom collected the post with rollers in her hair and slippers on her feet, who would dare do such a thing?

But Steve was used to it. Used to hearing his father shout and his mother scold. It was everything from how fast he ate to how he shaved. Did he have a small fleck of red on his face from the loose edge of a blade? He was ruined, tarnished. It was when he got in from work, he must've been out doing drugs within those ten minutes of lateness. It was gas prices for his car that he couldn't control and the amount of time he spent in bed even when he hadn't meant to sleep through the jarring alarm tones.

He'd been in a bitter mood than morning but most weekdays were a pain because Robin was never there to entertain him. This also meant his customer basis were screaming, crying, snotty kids in strollers with moms who'd try and flirt with him, strange, or old couples with wispy hair and wide smiles ready to tell Steve he reminded them of their grandson. Bet he's doing better than me.

However he'd been excited to read through job applications until he got to the third and realised they all sounded the same. Students needing more cash, a few desperate older men and women who had just been fired but for reasons Steve felt he couldn't ignore. One had been caught peeking at a child when Steve called his old employer. He questioned why he'd even leave that number, surely he could predict what would happen?

Steve sorted them into two piles and names blurred together while he pictured faces with collages of eyes and noses that didn't fit together. He heard the phrase 'articulate' too many times and swirled in lack of experience which didn't really matter. They were on different paper but most of it office like with sharp corners and perfect blue lines. It was the yellow scrap that caught his eye, the folded corners and messy writing. Then he saw the name

Lorelei Henderson

Steve's mouth went dry. He wouldn't deny that he'd been thinking about her ever since she'd walked into scoops ahoy over two weeks ago. This wasn't necessarily because of her buoyant hair, smoky eyes or low rise jeans nor the stride or the way her top was perfectly tight but because Dustin complained about her constantly. It was everything from her willingness to cook to the way she always tried to ask him questions. Steve imagined her cooking, an apron on and her hair piled on her head. He didn't think it sounded so bad.