Don't Blame Me ➵ Steve Harrington

twenty one

Carol frowned at the sight of her and that pleased Dylan enough. Tina excitedly approached Dylan, grabbing her face and planting a lipstick-stained kiss on Dylan's cheek. The alcohol on her breath was strong.

"I wasn't sure you were actually going to come!" She squealed. "But you did! Carol was going on and on about how now she's going to be Snow Queen — I think you shut her up."

"I've been AWOL all year," Dylan shrugged, glancing back at the other redhead. "She might just win."

"Nah," Billy squeezed her into his side, rubbing her arm. "It'll be us on that stage, doll."

Dylan laughed and squirmed out of his embrace. "I'm going to get a drink. I'll be right back."

She pushed through the crowd of dancing bodies to get to the punch table. She grabbed the ladle and poured some of the red liquid into the plastic cup. She took a swig and pinched up her face—it was only a half hour since the dance officially started and the punch was already spiked.

"Strong?"

"A little," Dylan's brows furrowed. "Steve? I didn't think you had a date anymore."

Steve stood before here in a tailored suit, his hair slicked back in a vintage fashion. The outfit was complete with a metallic green bowtie that she couldn't help but chuckle at.

"I don't," he shrugged. "But I didn't feel like spending the night alone."

She gestured around the room with her drink. "And you thought this would be a better deal?"

"You're here, right?"

She took another swig, without making a face this time. "That was smoother than I remember you ever being."

"I've always been smooth."

Dylan lifted a brow. "Not with me."

She threw her cup in the trash and patted him on the shoulder. "I should go check on my date before he gets homicidal. He has a reputation for doing that."

She walked away but Steve gently tugged on her hand, pulling her back to him. "Save me a dance?"

"Only if you're lucky, Steven." She smiled wickedly, pointing to the other side of the crowd. "But I think Tina also came unattached. She'll just die if you ask her to dance."

Dylan made her way back to Billy who wordlessly wrapped an arm around her waist while bullshitting with Tommy H. Tommy was poking fun at Carol's date, who happened to be Dylan's ex, Reed. Dylan wanted to but in and say something like 'you're the most generic man I've ever met, you have no room to make fun of Reed' but kept quiet to keep things smooth between her and Billy.

"Honestly, look at him—a total waste of space."

"Tommy," she said growing annoyed. "Shut up, would you? If anyone's a waste of space it's you. At least Reed has a car and is on the basketball team. You're just a burnout who wishes Carol would take him back."

Billy whistled lowly, chuckling mockingly at his friend. "She's got you there, man."

"Shut up, Dylan," Tommy shoved his finger in his face. Dylan sighed and swatted it away. "You think you can come back from being a total recluse the past year and still be hot shit? It's not realistic. You're still old news."

"And you've never been news!" She sneered at her former friend. "Ask anybody! You've spent the last three years in Steve's shadow, now you're in Billy's."

Billy continued to laugh and pulled the two apart. "Alright, alright, kids. Break it up. Me and Dylan are gonna go dance and Tommy, cool off."

She followed closely behind Billy, his hands loosely gripping hers as he led the way to the centre of the gym. They danced to the beat of Tina Turner's What's Love Got to Do With it. Dylan tried to ignore the reality of the lyrics as Billy spun her around to the synth sound. They stayed like that for awhile — until they were sweaty and out of breath. The two teens untangled from each other only when Mrs. Simmons walked across the makeshift stage and the music was cut.