In which Lucas Sinclair's older sister spends her whole summer trying to tame Billy Hargrove.
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Contains Dark themes and sexual content that may not be suitable for people under the age of 18.
Read at your own risk-this essentially is...
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Chapter Twenty-Five: Partners in Crime
Nearly nine months had passed since that night at the Snowball Dance; their relationship blossoming with each passing day and without the fear of other-dimensional creatures trying to kill the people Zara loved—they graduated high school together. Billy barely scraping by from the skin of his teeth but after a few consistent weekends of studying and Zara's endless pleas for extra-credit opportunities on his behalf, he'd collected his diploma and kissed his girl on stage for everyone to see.
Zara Sinclair had been his solace when Neil had heard—the town bustling with whispers about how Hargrove was off the market and dating a girl of a different race. Neil was fuming that night, whiskey fresh on his breath as he bounded through the front door, his racism on full display when he shouted at the top of his lungs for his son the moment he'd stumbled through the front door.
Billy never told her what really happened that night but she'd never forget the way he looked when he'd climbed through her window. He was dressed in nothing but a plain white tank top and denim jeans—his shirt stained with his own blood. Zara was on the cusp of falling asleep when she'd heard him, turning in her bed to see Billy's cheek split and bottom lip so swollen she'd gasped at the sight. "What the hell happened to you?" Zara whispered, voice laced with sleep as she beckoned him closer.
He didn't answer—he didn't have to.
The way he flinched away when her hand outstretched towards him was answer enough, rage burned in her belly at the way he'd looked so distant—so broken. She refrained from sneaking into her parents room, opening their closet and retrieving the gun that resided under their dresser.
Not when he needed her in that moment.
Instead, she rushed to the bathroom, ruffling around the cabinet until she'd found the first aid kit. He'd barely moved an inch even to breathe when she'd returned, his hands shaking when he'd finally reached out for her, fingers splaying around her hips for comfort as Zara doted on his wounds with special care, mumbling tearful apologies as she stuck thin butterfly bandaids over the worst parts of his injuries. Placing loving kisses to his skin the moment she'd finished, holding him so close he was sure their bodies had fused together as one; seemingly sharing the same soul as she muttered promises to him that she'd never let anything bad happen to him ever again.
He really did believe her too.
His steely disposition melted to a puddle of mush when he thought back on how that following week, she'd been the one to knock on his front door, her shoulders squared and back as straight as a board when Zara greeted his father and stepmother—formally introducing herself with a firm handshake before slipping past them to find his room. His heart grew two sizes larger when Zara had casually mentioned that she and her family were especially close to Jim Hopper, the police chief of Hawkins and how she'd be more than happy to report any disturbances they may have faced in their neighborhood.
