A/N - This chapter is based (very loosely) on the song Hotel Room Service by Pitbull. I hope you all enjoy it.
Trigger Warning: Some suggestive themes, but no one actually does anything.
Summer in Hawkins was always a little underwhelming. The sun would beam down on you for hours at a time, leaving you unwilling to really do anything other than sit very still or head to the one cool place in town; the local pool. It became the haunt of almost every teenager in town every summer, and this year was no different.
If it wasn't for your friends' part-time jobs, you would probably sit around the pool every day for the entirety of summer vacation, but now that you were going into Senior year, the girls were looking to save up for college. Most days, you had to entertain yourself around the pool all by yourself, a feat that was growing harder and harder as the days stretched into weeks.
Today, all three of your normal pool buddies had been called into work, leaving you completely alone and bored out of your mind. You'd tried reading, but the noise of the kids splashing around was enough to distract you. And you'd attempted to listen to your walkman, but it had run out of battery before you could even get halfway through a song. So you'd ended up settling on a little bit of people watching, your sunglasses offering a covert aspect to your staring.
Billy had started working as a lifeguard at the beginning of summer. You knew him well enough through school, but you'd never really run in the same circles. He stuck with a handful of basketball players and whatever girl was stupid enough to fall for his charms that week, and you were happy enough keeping with the friends you made in grade school. But ever since he'd started here, you'd become a little obsessed. I mean, no matter how much you thought he was an asshole, you couldn't ignore the fact that he was nice to look at.
You'd settled on watching him for a while, perched at the top of the lifeguard chair, surveying the pool. And then, before you could stop your staring, his head had whipped around to look in your direction, watching as you quickly twisted your head to the side to look at anything but him.
If you'd kept looking, you would've seen the smirk that pulled at his lips. And you would've known that he made quick work of climbing down from the chair, making his way over towards where you were laying out on your sun lounger.
"Morning," he hummed as he approached, watching as you stiffened at the sound of his voice.
"Hi," you uttered back, offering up a sweet, but very fake smile.
"Not swimming today?"
You shook your head as he perched himself at the foot of your lounger, smiling up at you. "Too many kids splashing around," you explained. "Just here for the sun."
"You don't get sun at home, Sweetheart?" he teased, his tongue running over his bottom lip. "Or maybe it's just the view you like," he added, raising an eyebrow at you.
"My yard is west facing. It doesn't get the sun in the morning-"
"Course it doesn't," he pressed on. "You know, if you wanted a better look, you could just ask."
You rolled your eyes at his comment. "I wasn't looking at you," you uttered.
"What are you lying about it for, Sweetheart? Nothing wrong with looking. It's not like I don't look at you," he told you. "I mean, come on, you show up here in these little suits of yours and you expect me to believe you don't want me to look?"
"You want me to show up dressed as a nun so that you don't get too distracted?"
A snort of laughter slipped past his lips at your question. "God, if I had it my way, you'd show up in nothing at all."
Your face contorted in horror. "You're gross."
"I'm honest," he corrected. "I see you looking, Sweetheart. You want me just as bad as I want you. I'm just not embarrassed about saying it."
You raised one eyebrow at him, reaching up to slide your sunglasses down your nose slightly, staring at him. "If I wanted you, I would've had you already," you hummed. "You're not exactly hard to pull, Billy."
"You aren't even curious?" he asked. "I know you've heard the rumours. Don't you want to see if they're true?"
"Not even slightly."
He offered up a faux wince at your words, placing a hand over his heart, directly on his bare chest, drawing your eye with the gesture. "You're killing me here, Sweetheart."
"Cry me a river, Playboy," you bit back. "There's a kid running on the other side of the pool," you added, nodding across the way to where the kid was sprinting across the tiles.
"Fuck sake," he bit out, getting to his feet and blowing his whistle. "Last warning; No running," he yelled at the top of his lungs, watching as the kid came to a complete halt. When he turned back to you, hands on his hips, you were smirking up at him. "Come on, you really aren't interested?"
"I'm not that sort of girl," you told him, giving a little shrug.
"You trying to tell me you're a prude when you go out in public dressed like this?"
You scoffed slightly. "I never said I was a prude. I'm just not the sort of girl that falls for your little charm offensive. I've actually got a brain-"
"Shit, Sweetheart. You're sounding a little jealous there," he interrupted. "You just want spoiling, huh? You want me to be yours and yours only?"
"Billy-"
"How about I book us a room somewhere and show you just how dedicated I can be?"
Your eyes widened slightly at his comment, and you silently thanked God that you kept your sunglasses on to hide your response. "You can book some shitty motel 6 room all you want, but I probably won't be showing up."
"Probably? So I still have a chance?"
"You're supposed to be working-"
"This is far more important," he teased. "What do you say, Sweetheart? You gonna let me show you how good I can be?"
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