Don't Blame Me ➵ Steve Harrington

twenty three

She removed the necklace from the box to get a closer look. The cool chain pooled in her palm as she continued to stare at the photo, tears stinging her eyes.

"What is it, dear?" Her mother asked, peering down from the couch on an attempt to catch a glance of Steve's gift.

Dylan quickly wiped her eyes into the arm of her pyjamas and delicately handed the necklace over to her mom, who then passed it to her dad.

Dylan stood up and threw herself into Steve's lap without a thought. She squeezed him tight. "Thank you," she said softly into his ear. "I love it. I really do."

"It's just beautiful, Steve." Her mom spoke. Dylan untangled herself from Steve to grab back the necklace.

She turned her back to him. "Can you put it on?"

Dylan couldn't see him stand but she could feel the warmth of his body behind her. He draped the necklace around her neck and the sudden coldness made her shiver. He laughed quietly and swiftly closed the clasp, stepping away.

Her parents went to prepare a special birthday breakfast in the kitchen, leaving Dylan and Steve in the living room. Dylan still clutched the necklace protectively against her chest as they watched the early morning talk show that just happened to be on.

"What's with all the surprises?" Dylan broke the heavy silence between them. "I've forgiven you, you know. I don't need to be swept off my feet."

"I've actually had that for awhile," he replied quietly. "Since I found out what really happened to Barb... I was gonna give it to you and let you know the truth—but I was a coward and there was never a moment that felt right and then too much time had passed."

"Oh."

"Bad 'oh'?"

She shook her head. "No, just a thoughtful oh. So, you really didn't forget about me all that time?"

"That's what I've been telling you, Dyl," he turned, grabbing her hand securely in his. She had the natural instinct to yank her hand away but she fought it. "I never forgot — I was just scared. Terrified, if I'm really being honest."

She bit her lip which had been threatening to curl. "You always were a wimp."

"I'll take that because it's your birthday," he pouted in jest. "But go get dressed. After breakfast I've got a whole day planned."

She didn't move. "Unfortunately for you, so do I. It's called watching Risky Business and gorging on unhealthy food."

"Nope," he stood up, pulling her forcefully off the couch. "Not happening. Get upstairs or I'll bring you up there and dress you myself.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You'd just love that," Dylan mumbled.

"You know what — I would," he playfully responded. "But it's not about me, it's about you and I don't think you'd like that."

Dylan stomped up the stairs dramatically on the way to her room.

"And make sure you dress nice!" Steve called out after her.

"And make sure you dress nice," she mocked him under her breath as she began scrambling for clothes in her bureau. It would help if he had informed which specific branch of nice he meant: formal, casual, cool—but she would never give him the satisfaction of going back down and asking, as that would make her seem interested in his little plan.

She threw on a pair of blue jeans and a black top she had reserved only for parties—which meant it had been collecting dust in her drawer for awhile. When Dylan came back downstairs, her family and Steve were already at the table conversing amongst themselves happily. It wasn't like those awkward, forced dinners him and Nancy used to come over for—all secrets had been brought to the surface (mostly) and Steve Harrington looked more than comfortable sitting at her wooden dining table, carrying on with her dad and charming her mother.