Don't Blame Me ➵ Steve Harrington

eleven

"He beat up a kid! He was ready to kill me!" Steve shook his head, frustrated, his perfectly coiffed hair falling into his eyes. "But he gets a second chance with you?"

"He's not my friend, Steve, he doesn't owe me anything," her eyes narrowed, "he's just someone I fuck to feel good for a moment! You'd know all about that, right?"

There was a rapping at her window. Dylan stood up from her desk where she had been painting her nails and padded over to her window. She pulled the navy blue curtains across to reveal Steve Harrington on the other side. She jumped first, not expecting anyone to be there, and then she laughed at her friend.

"What the hell are you doing here, Steve?" She asked him, not noticing the sullen expression on his face. "How the tables have turned—I'm usually the one at your window."

"Just let me in, Dyl." He said, letting out a heavy breath.

Dylan frowned and unlocked her window. "Somebody's in a mood. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she could tell he was lying. "Alright—I think Nancy hooked up with Jonathan Byers. I just came from her house and I saw them..."

Dylan scoffed. "That's doubtful. You do know you took her virginity, right? I doubt she's suddenly gone dick crazy."

"I saw them," Steve said in protest. "They were on her bed."

"You saw them having sex?"

"No!" Steve was growing frustrated with her. "But she said she couldn't hang out and then I find her with him."

Dylan hummed quietly. They both plopped down on her twin bed. "I still don't think there's anything there but at most it's probably just a pity fuck—his brother is missing, after all. I'd let it slide."

"This isn't a joke, Dyl."

"It could be." Dylan shrugged and then sighed, feeling guilty for being so abrasive. "I'm sorry,  it's just Barb's still missing and I can't seem to care about anything else."

"Right," Steve nodded. "God, here I am whining about some girl that I'm not even officially with and your sister is missing. I'm an idiot."

"I'm glad we can agree," she teased, laughing softly. "No, I don't care. It'll be nice to think of something else, distract me with your Nancy problems."

"Nah, it's stupid now." Steve was playing with something on her nightstand and Dylan peered over his shoulder to see what it was.

In his hand were the shots her and Reed had taken in the mall's photobooth that day. She forced herself not to flush and went to grab the photos but Steve yanked them out of her grip.

"These are pretty racy, Dyl," he was the one teasing now. His eyes scanned over every photograph and Dylan sat anxiously, awaiting the moment he began to make fun of her. "I mean—I never knew you were so liberal."

The photos weren't out of playboy by any means, they were taken in the Hawkin's mall, but they were more than just PG.

"Ha-ha," she deadpanned. "Now give them here."

Dylan grabbed her photos, glancing briefly at them—one had Reed licking down her chest, another she had lost her shirt all together and Reed was playing with the straps of her bra. She quickly shoved them under her pillow.

"I thought photobooths were something cheesy preteen couples did—but you've proved me wrong, Holland."

Her face felt hot. "Bite me."

Steve rolled over on the bed to face her. His brown eyes peered up at her, something unfamiliar hidden in them.

"Let's distract each other." He said simply.

Her brows knitted together. "What do you mean—"

Steve placed a hand on her thigh, slowly travelling higher until a rush of something washed over her.

"Are you forgetting something? Reed? Nancy?"

"I want to forget Nancy for now," he said lowly, his voice raspier than usual. "And let's be real, you don't really care about Reed. Lets just feel good for this one moment."

"I guess you're right," her resolve easily slipping away. "But if you tell anyone about this, Steve Harrington—you're dead."

He rolled over once again so his body was pressed firmly against hers and his fingers immediately went for her blouse, fiddling with the buttons. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Whatever, Dylan," he stepped back from her, turning towards the house. "Have fun with that fucking dickhead!"

Dylan got into the car and slammed the door shut. She hung her head on the steering wheel and breathed, trying to digest everything that had just happened. It was an impossible task so instead she just blared the radio and zoomed off the Byer property.

She had hoped Billy would stay unconscious for the entirety of the ride but Dylan was an unlucky girl. He rolled around in her backseat, mumbling incoherent things until finally he sat up, gripping the leather sit in front of him tightly with one hand and holding his head in the other.

"Fuck," he mumbled to himself. He didn't seem fully aware yet. "What the hell did Max do to me?"

"She knocked you out with some drugs," Dylan answered even though she knew the question was mostly rhetorical. "Because you were being a total psychopath and deserved it."

"Dylan, baby—that's you, isn't it?" He gave her a groggy smirk. "I knew you wouldn't just leave me behind. We've got a good thing going, me and you."

She nodded. "We did. Until you tried to beat up a little kid and kill Steve."

"Steve, Steve—who cares about that guy," Billy said, not an ounce of guilt in his voice. "He thinks he's tough shit. He needed to be knocked down a couple pegs."

Dylan sucked on the inside of her cheek. "Maybe you do, too."

"You gonna do the honours?" His cocky grin widened. "I'd be willing to be knocked down a couple pegs if it was by you."

"I don't know how you can flirt with me right now." She shook her head. "After everything you just did, you're gonna act like it's normal between us? It's not, Billy."

Billy sunk into the backseat, an appropriate frown replacing the smirk. "Is this really about Steve? Fuck that guy, Holland. It has nothing to do with me and you."

"Maybe not or maybe it does," she said back. "I didn't like what I saw back there—I knew you were a pretty shitty guy but that goes beyond shitty. I can't sit around screwing a guy that picks on little kids and doesn't know when enough is enough."

"Jesus, Holland," Billy crossed his arms. "You're being too serious about it. Nothing even happened."

Dylan stayed quiet until she pulled up to Billy's house. He hung around in the backseat, unmoving.

She turned around, her expression icy. "Get out."

"Dylan—"

"Get out of my damn car!"

He got out and slammed the door so hard her little car shook from side to side. She wanted to scream in frustration. All her emotions were finally catching up to her and she felt like she was going to drown in them.

IM WRITING THIS ON MY BREAK AT WORK. I think this is my fastest updated story ever. ANYWAY, thanks for giving this a read