The Neighbor's Cat (Billy Hargrove x OC // Stranger Things)

11. It's in the Trees

Randy stared out the window as they drove.

She tried so hard to blend in with the passenger seat; tried so hard to be invisible; tried so hard to disappear – she even held her breath a few times, worried that Hargrove might hear her breathing or see it fogging the window, then suddenly realize that she was in his car. She hoped that the longer they stayed quiet, the less likely he would be to snap at her or ask questions. Not because she was scared of him, but because she was ashamed of herself. And she really didn't want to talk about it.

But even though the majority of the ride was spent in a tense hush, Randy could tell by the lack of radio and the stiffness of his posture in the window's reflection that he was absolutely going to talk. Probably chew her out for ruining his night.

She sunk down into her seat.

The movement must have caught his attention, because she could see from the streelight's glow on the window that he had glanced at her.

"As much as I like being a hero," he began around his cigarette, tone stern, "let's not repeat shit like this, got it?"

She wasn't sure if he meant the ride or Tommy, but decided it was probably safe to assume both.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Okay."

Hargrove toyed with the cigarette in his mouth.

"As for rides," he continued, smoke billowing from his nose, "they're only on weekdays. I said I'd drive you to and from school. I never agreed to play your chauffeur at parties."

The thought was laughable. She didn't, obviously, but imagining him dressed in a suit and tie with a nice little cap, opening his Camaro door for her with a bow, was painfully funny.

"Don't worry about that," she promised.

She had no plans on going to a party again. Ever.

Hargrove glanced at her, his reflection blurry but the action unmistakable.

"Why'd you come?" he asked.

"Nancy," she answered simply. "She wanted me to go. So did Ally."

"And what the hell are you even supposed to be? You do realize it was a Halloween party, right? And you're a what? Crazy cat lady?"

Randy lifted her nose. "I wouldn't expect a degenerate like you to know."

"Careful, princess," he warned, "I can still make you walk."

Randy contemplated this.

"And don't pretend like you don't care!" he snapped.

She lifted her shoulder. "Not a horrible option. But if you must know, I'm Samantha from Sixteen Candles."

Hargrove snorted. "The hell is that?"

"A movie."

"Not one I've ever seen."

"It's a romantic comedy. And it has boobs. You'd probably like it."

His eyebrows shot up.

"Well," he murmured, lifting his cigarette to his mouth. "Remind me to watch it."

"Pervert."

"But seriously, why would you dress up as some chic from a rom-com on Halloween night?"

"What would you rather have me go as?" she asked. "A playboy bunny?"

Now he was really grinning.

"Not a bad idea," he said roguishly. "A one piece, some fishnets, a little cotton tail–"