Don't Blame Me ➵ Steve Harrington

twenty seven

Steve ran up to her immediately, placing a kiss at the top of her head. "Hey, babe," he greeted. "Missed you."

"It's been two hours." She responded as if she hadn't missed him as well.

"Too many hours."

Dylan tried not to laugh at his stupid joke but she always failed. "St-op," she whined.

The buzzer went off prompting Steve to give her a rushed kiss on the mouth before running into the court. He looked cute, but also a bit ridiculous, in his basketball uniform. The shorts will a little too short, the socks a little too long. But she couldn't judge, she was also wearing the exact same thing, unfortunately.

Billy eyed her from across the gym, his attention was undesired and so she pretended as if she didn't see. Hawkin's lost. Again. Her job felt more and more useless with each loss. Billy was up to his old tricks—shoving, tripping, blocking Steve. She figured this was over and done with after his blowup at the dance . But Billy was a man of little sense; he would bully a girl, then ask her out on a date. His jealousy toward Steve was unwarranted as Dylan would never give him the time of day again.

Coach was shaking his head at the scoreboard before he turned to her, more relaxed. "I heard from someone that you may be applying to college after all."

Surprised, she gave him a funny look. "Who told you that?"

He shrugged. "It was the guidance counsellor, she's awful at confidentiality—you know a watergirl counts as a position on a sports team." 

"I thought this was a punishment?"

"It was but you and me both know what Carol said," he said with a pointed look, "this punishment was to cover my ass. So I think you served your time but—"

"If you wanted to stay on for the rest of the year as our resident watergirl, I'd have a pretty nice recommendation to write."

"I bet you just can't find someone to replace me. This position sucks."

"You're right. Let's just say this arrangement works out for the both of us. Plus I like your sass, these guys—wimps, they don't got your gumption."

She chuckled at his spiel, feeling somewhat heart-warmed at his affection for her sass. Without much thought, she accepted his offer. She hated the lugging and the uniform but she didn't have any other extracurriculars on her transcript—not a good look for someone trying to get into a half-decent school come the fall. Coach seemed impressed with himself when she accepted, proud of doing something nice or at least happy to not have to start pouring the water at games himself.

The game ended, people piled out, the boys hit the showers, and Dylan began to tidy and put away her station. She didn't look up from wiping her table with a cloth as she heard the squeak of sneakers on the waxed floor approach her. She saw white converse and tall socks and assumed it was Steve.

"Coach says you're a wimp, you know." She said to tease him.

"Now, that can't be right." The husk of his voice warned her it was not Steve at all.

Her jaw tightened. "I thought you were Steve."

"Now that seems right." His conceited laughter triggered her irritation.

"Is there a reason you're acting so desperate these days?" Dylan still didn't look up. "I know for a fact the population of Cougar Town is at an all-time high."