"Goodnight Mils"
I was certain that if I ever heard that name again, it would be in the afterlife.
Mils...my dad used to call me that. I always feared it would hurt, hearing it from someone else. But there it was. This frizzy-haired, metal loving boy that knew nothing of the name and what it meant to me. Casually letting it slip from his tongue nearly sending me to my knees.
It stung, but in a pleasant way. A way that evoked a lifetime of memories I've tried so hard to suppress. Like a subtle reminder from the universe that it's okay, important even, to feel...to remember.
Something about the way it sounded coming from his lips felt soothing. Like a balm to the aching wound in my chest.
I sit at the kitchen table running my fingers along the edges of the napkin from Louie's we'd used as a contract just the night before. A mixture of cursive, chicken scratch, and pizza grease binding two strangers into a false indenture.
TERMS:
Weekly date night. Switch who picks.
Ride to school together when possible.
Sit together at lunch.
One campaign / one hideout.
Causal PDA, nothing gross?
Don't tell anyone...except the cheerleader.
This is such a bad idea.
I finally broke down and admitted it to myself. I have a crush on Eddie Munson, and after last night...it's glaringly obvious that those feelings aren't going anywhere. Worse...now I have to fake date him. Talk to him, spend time with him, go on dates with him.
This is such a bad idea.
All at once dark, depressive thoughts that have become terrifyingly familiar begin to bleed into my mind, taunting me with the inevitable truth. I'm going to lose him too, and when all this is over I'll still be painfully on my own. My vision begins to blur and my chest begins to tighten. The air in my lungs becomes so shallow I'm gasping for my next breath...then I hear it.
The low rumble and echoing sounds of metal music plowing through the neighborhood like a bat out of hell. Eddie.
My reaction to the noise is strange, but not entirely surprising. I instantly feel my shoulders relax and a laugh bubbles up from my chest, forcing me to take a much needed breath. Blinking my vision clear just in time to see the black van swerve into the driveway.
I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips, wondering to myself just how hard it would be to convince Eddie "the freak" Munson to stick around.
Not wanting to keep him waiting, I quickly grab my things and run towards the door. As I swing it open, Eddie is already standing there, hand mid-air prepared to ring the doorbell.
My eyes work quickly, taking in the details of his appearance. He's missing his normal leather jacket, and instead wears a fitted, black long sleeve thermal and dark jeans. He has on boots instead of trainers, and his hair is still damp like he's recently showered.
My god. He looks good.
"Someone's eager to see me this morning," he teases.
I roll my eyes and huff. "Eager to not get a noise complaint. The entire neighborhood knows you're here."
Smirking, he props his forearm on the doorframe above my head, assaulting my senses with his annoyingly sexy scent. "They can know my name too, if you're loud enough" he taunts, wiggling his thick brows underneath a damp fringe.
"You're a pig, Munson!" I chastise, smacking the center of his chest.
"Ow! Come on! You led me right to that one" he laughs, rubbing the sting from his skin. "But you're right...I'm suppose to be a gentleman. Here, let me try again" he insists.
Gently, he closes the door again before knocking three times. When I open it, he's grinning so wide dimples have formed on his cheeks. "Good morning, M'lady" he bows at the waist and holds his hand out to me. "Your chariot awaits."
I roll my eyes and sigh, a malevolent reply on the tip of my tongue. When he gives me a look to say, 'oh come on, play along', the hateful words dissolve as butterflies take flight. It's ridiculously cute, so I just go with it. I hold out my hand assuming he'll lead me to the death trap on wheels, but instead he moves it to his lips, and places a gentle kiss on my knuckles.
His lips are velvety soft in contrast to his calloused fingertips. My breath catches in my chest as I watch chill bumps dance their way around my wrist and up my arm, praying I'm the only one to notice.
"How was that?" he whispers, those chocolate brown eyes bore straight into mine.
I swallow the hard lump that suddenly appears in my throat."Better."
He hums a low laugh that sends vibrations down to my toes before his rough hands find my waist, pressing by me, and into the house.
"W—what are you doing?" I ask, my voice cracking at a much higher octave.
Without a shadow of a doubt if he took me into that room right now, I'm certain he could make me say just about anything. I've heard the stories...I know Eddie is experienced in the bedroom.
"I forgot my jacket last night" he answers, grabbing the bundle of leather and denim from the corner where I'd placed it the night before.
"Oh" is the only word I can manage through the fog of sudden lust clouding my sleep deprived brain.
Sleep, that has to be the only explanation for this ridiculous reaction...a kiss on the hand for crying out loud.
Instead of dawning the jacket himself, Eddie holds it open and slides the buttery fabric across my shoulders. "Your cheeks are red from the cold," he mutters, gently rubbing the pad of his thumb against my cheekbone. "Looks like you need it more than me." Then, as if he hasn't completely turned my emotions upside down...he winks.
Thank god he turns just as quickly to head towards the driveway, missing my knees give out, forcing me to cling to the door frame instead of falling flat on my ass.
I repeat...this is such a bad idea.
------⦅❁⦆------
The drive to school is comfortably quiet, save for the metal music and occasional backfire from the rusty tailpipe.
The van's interior is well loved. The fabric on the seats is worn and stained. The dash boards are faded and covered in cassette tapes. The floorboards are surprisingly clean. But the smell...that tantalizing mix of tobacco, spearmint, and cologne is what gets me. I press back into the headrest, closing my eyes to inhale deeply. The scent alone temporarily relaxes the nervous knots growing in my stomach.
"You, okay?" Eddie asks.
No. Not even a little bit.
I open my eyes to the shaggy haired boy watching me intently from the driver's seat. "Sorry" I reply, cupping my palm around the shell of my ear. "I can't hear you over all the shit coming out of your speakers."
He gasps loudly, his fist mimicking a knife being stabbed into his chest. "That has to be the most hurtful thing you've ever said to me, Peters."
Giving him a small but genuine smile I turn back to the window. "Well," he goes on. "You don't strike me as a Madonna, Lauper type of gal." I wrinkle my nose at the thought. "So what do you listen to?"
I shrug my shoulders. "Really just depends on my mood."
"I get that," he replies, nodding his head. "What if it's a good day?"
Taking a moment to think, I reply. "Hmm..probably Nicks or Mercury."
"Ahh Fleetwood. I knew it," he smirks, pointing to the burst of baby's breath I have sticking out from behind my ear. "And a bad day?"
Easy. "Maybe the Four Tops or Gaye," I answer, taking in his look of surprise. "Reminds me of before...with my dad."
The look of shock is quickly replaced with one of sadness. "And what would you listen to today?"
I knew what he was doing...I've grown accustomed to it over the past year. Being on the receiving end of the same treatment from everyone in this town, from Uncle Hopper to the elderly cashier at the A&P grocery mart.
Pity. Poor Emilia Peters, dead dad, nearly dead mom, and a pathetic drunk a brother. I'm used to it, but for some reason seeing it reflected back at me through Eddie's eyes makes something in my nervous stomach sour.
"Trash, apparently" I smile, attempting to lighten the mood and change the subject.
Eddie releases a husky laugh, pulling the oversized tank into its normal spot at the back lot.
"I'm kidding," I add. "Zeppelin's okay."
He puts the van in park and turns to me. "You never answered my first question, Mils."
Right, am I okay?
I pick at a loose thread in my lap, unable to look in his beautiful eyes. "What if it doesn't work?" I whisper, finally putting a voice to the fear that had eaten away at me all night.
What if it doesn't work? What if all of this is for nothing? What if at the end of all this the weight is still too heavy?
We'd made a point to get to school in time to be in the perfect position just before Steve drops off Nancy. Close enough that he can definitely see us, but not to look too intentional.
Pulling the keys from the ignition and shoving them into his pocket he answers, "Sweetheart, it's going to work."
I feel my heart stutter at the term of endearment. "But...What if it doesn't?"
Eddie gently grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. Hot chocolate orbs laced with softness and absolute certainty search mine. "Then Harrington is even more of a goddamn idiot than I thought he was."
He rubs his thumb against my cheek and I feel another wave of guilt wash over me. He has no clue. Selfish...so fucking selfish. Using this boy as my own personal brand of antidepressants. Using him to just...feel.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" I question, giving him one final chance to back out of this ridiculous deal.
He drops his hand from my face and I feel myself properly breathe again. "You kiddin'? I get to hang out with Emilia Peters, get under Harrington's skin, and get exposure for Corroded. It's a no brainer really."
Right. Corroded. This isn't about me, it's about the deal. He can get something out of this too.
He sighs and clears his throat. "Do you want to do this?"
Squeezing my eyelids shut and pinching the bridge of my nose. "Yes, it's just..."
I'm using you. I'm using you to stoke what's left of the pathetic excuse of a flame that's left in me. I'm using you to feel Eddie, because without this spark, the temptation to end it all is just too strong. I'm using you to save me.
Interrupting my inner turmoil, Eddie speaks first. "Look, how about we give it til' Spring Break" he offers. "That's more than enough time, but if he hasn't taken the bait by then...well, then you'll know. We can end this, and you can move on" he shrugs his broad shoulders, and I swear I see something like loss shift in his expression. "How's that sound?"
Spring Break, that's roughly six months away. If the past year has taught me anything, it's that a lot can change in such a small amount of time. Six months ago my mom was still at home, sick but strong. Today she doesn't even know her own name. Six months ago I was happily dating Steve and spending my Friday nights with Nancy watching romcoms and making homemade facials. I've spent the last four Fridays staring blankly into the stained glass in my bedroom and silently crying myself to sleep. A lot can change in six months.
Right now Eddie Munson is just the goofy guy from gym class that makes me blush at inappropriate jokes. He's just a guy, simply doing a girl a favor in exchange for exposure. That's it. I can't let myself ever forget it. Otherwise, six months from now, I'll be shattered and he'll still leave.
Six months to figure your shit out, Mils. That's it.
Sighing in relief at the quiet understanding with myself I reply. "Spring Break. Let's do it."
------⦅❀⦆------
Walking across the busy lot, I instantly feel them. The eyes of every student and faculty member within a fifty yard radius. The unwanted attention causes the hairs on the back of my neck to rise and a blush to creep its way across the bridge of my nose.
Before I can tuck tail and run, Eddie slides his arm across my shoulders and gives me a gentle squeeze. "Jesus. They act like they've never seen a pretty girl before" he muses, successfully distracting me with both the urge to ram my elbow into his ribcage and climb him like a freaking tree. Instead I play my part and settle on snuggling closer to him, letting his warmth settle my sudden flight response.
Only once we've reached the ideal spot beneath the awning that separates the parking lot from the building, does Eddie release me. I instantly feel all of the comforting heat leave my body, despite still having his leather jacket draped over my shoulders. I use the brief moment of reprieve to steady myself, rubbing the remaining sleep from my tired eyes.
"Oh shit, here" Eddie steps closer, "You've got an eyelash."
With a touch so feather soft I might have considered it a dream, he swipes at the delicate skin. "Make a wish, '' he insists, balancing the single lash on the tip of his finger and holding it up to my mouth.
"Huh?" I crease my brows looking up at him.
"If one of your eyelashes falls out, you're supposed to make a wish" he explains as if it were common knowledge and I'm the crazy one.
I shake my head. "You are such a weirdo, Munson."
"Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don't know," he grins, stepping closer so that we're nearly chest to chest. "Now, make a wish."
Dramatically rolling my eyes and sighing, I grab ahold of Eddie's wrist, pierce my lips, and make a wish. My eyes are only closed for a fraction of a second, but once they're open I'm certain his face is much closer than it was before.
Shit did I lean in?
He's so close that I can see the golden flecks of honey that swim just beneath pools of chocolate. I can see the peppering of dark stubble against his sharp jaw and the shimmer of a small white scar just above his upper lip. Then there's his tongue, peaking out to wet his bottom lip before clearing his throat.
Jesus woman, he's uncomfortable. Get yourself together.
"I hate the smell of ketchup" I rasp, blinking rapidly to focus my gaze on anything but his perfect lips.
Eddie tilts his head. "Uh, okay?"
"You said tell me something I don't know" I explain. "Ketchup. The smell, it grosses me out."
He looks down at me, grinning. "When we were in eighth grade, Gareth bet me ten dollars I couldn't eat an entire jar of mayonnaise in two minutes" he goes on. "A minute and a half later, he was wrong and I was ten bucks richer. But to this day, I can't even look at the stuff without thinking about how I blew chunks all over the back of his mom's minivan" he shivers, "She still hasn't forgiven me for that one."
I smile and look down at the ground between us. "What'd you wish for, Mils?" he mutters.
Shaking my head firmly I reply, "Wouldn't you like to know."
"Yes." He says with that annoyingly sexy grin. "If you tell me, I bet I can make it come true" he teases in a deep voice.
"Nice try" I huff. "That's not how it works." Realizing my hand is still firmly wrapped around his wrist, I attempt to pull away but he catches it, gently flattening my palm against his firm chest.
"Fine, but I have one last question for you" he says, that perfect grin still firmly in place.
"Full of them this morning."
"Emilia Peters, will you officially be my fake girlfriend?"
Surprising even myself, I grin so wide my cheeks ache. "It would be my honor, Munson."
Looking down at my palm that now lay flat on his chest. I feel the rush of his heartbeat, it's strong...steady and for some reason that stings. Knowing the traitorous organ nestled deep within my chest is currently beating so erratically it has the potential to crack a rib.
Six months. Just a favor. Pretend girlfriend. I repeat the words over and over in my head until I feel the smile slowly slip from my lips.
"Don't look now," Eddie mutters loud enough for only me to hear. "But we have an audience." I barely hear him, distracted by his fingers that are now wrapped gently around my hand as his thumb strokes across my knuckles.
Audience, right. All for show. Damn, he's good.
"I'm telling you," he adds, weaving his arm around my waist and walking towards class. "It's working."
Just as we cross the threshold into the building, I glance over my shoulder making direct eye contact with a very agitated Steve Harrington, and to my complete surprise...I simply do not care.
Shit.
------⦅❁⦆------
Jason harshly plops himself down at the empty desk beside me. "So did my eyes deceive me, or did I see you with Munson this morning?" he asks.
Normally, I share this class with both him and Chrissy, but today she's in her weekly meeting with Ms. Kelley, the school counselor.
Internally I groan, and busy myself by pulling out my notebook. "Nope. Your vision is clear." I know where this is going.
It's no secret that Jason isn't Eddie's biggest fan, though their beef seems to go deeper than just typical highschool testosterone bullshit. In fact, Chrissy once asked him why he hated Eddie so much. He got so aggressively defensive the rest of the table didn't utter a single word until the dismissal bell rang. Talk about an awkward lunch hour.
Clearly not happy with my limited response, he begins tapping the end of his pencil against the chipped desktop. "Hmm, and what about the part where his arm was around you?"
I sigh, finally looking him in the eye. "Still 20/20, Carver. What about it?"
He curls his upper lip and leans closer to me, pressing his forearms to his thighs. "So what? You're fucking the freak now?"
A gasp hangs in my throat, and my mouth falls open. He could have just punched me in the gut. The comment catches me so off guard that I just stare at him, and I watch the anger in his eyes morph to regret. "Screw you, Jason" I growl, turning my body as far away from him as I can manage.
While I appreciate the friendship and kindness he and Chrissy have shown me after my break up with Steve, I unlike the rest of the student body do not live for the approval of Jason Carver. And I'm sure as shit not going to let him dictate the company I keep.
I don't know what his issues are with Eddie, but they have nothing to do with me. I didn't deserve that.
The rest of the period I feel his gaze burning into the side of my head, but I refuse to look at him. Finally, after what feels like the longest hour of my life, the bell rings and I quickly spring from my chair and towards the door.
Unfortunately, Jason and his creepy basketball reflexes catch a hold of my elbow before I can make my escape. "Em, wait."
I grunt, and resist the urge to yank myself from his grip. One quick look at his face and I can tell he's spent the entire hour mentally kicking himself in the teeth. Good.
He sighs, "I'm sorry. Okay." Jason gently squeezes his hand around my arm before letting go to adjust the collar of his letterman jacket, obviously uncomfortable."It's just—Munson's bad news. I don't want you to get hurt."
I stare up at him in disbelief. Jason doesn't apologize, ever. He never has to. Why would he when the people of this town nearly fall over their feet to be in company with the Carver name? Yet, here he is, awkward and uncomfortable but apologizing non the less.
Blinking several times and picking my jaw up from the floor for a second time within the hour, I finally manage. "Yeah, well everyone thought Steve was the perfect gentleman and look how that turned out."
"Right." His shoulders sag with another harsh breath. "Just be careful, okay Em?" he adds with genuine concern.
My god, I was so fucking sick of seeing people look at me like that. Like I was a newborn deer frantically trying to get my legs underneath me, while standing directly in the middle of a frozen pond, quickly being melted by the blazing sun.
Don't get me wrong, I'm totally that deer. I'm scrambling. But every single time someone looks at me like that, the heartbreaking reminder of the shit storm that is my life comes barrelling back into view and knocks me straight on my ass.
And fuck am I tired.
"I'll see you later, Jason." I give his forearm a squeeze, the only reassurance I can muster, and walk out of class.
In the hallway I instantly spot the wavy haired, dangerous boy in question heading my way. Had I not been so weighed down by my conversation with Jason, I'd probably laugh at the possibility that Eddie Munson could be anything but good.
He'd suggested we walk together to class a few times a day to help spread the word of our relationship...fake relationship. Although, after all the eyes that were on us this morning, I'm certain we're already the main topic of gossip with the ladies at the beauty shop two towns over.
Eddie's eyes find mine, and instantly he looks concerned. But before he can reach me, I feel a small yet strong set of hands yank me from the hall and into the girls bathroom.
"Jesus Christ, Chris!" I gasp, rolling my shoulder. "You nearly pulled my arm out of the socket."
The bubbly brunette simply stands in front of me with her hands on her hips ignoring my obvious pain."Spill. Now."
Alright, straight to it then.
------⦅❀⦆------