Chapter Twenty-Five:
Douchebag Harrington 
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Ramona hummed to herself as she wiped down the counters of Jet City as the raindrops pounded against the diner's windows. The cloudy skies provided a gloomy atmosphere as the hours changed from the evening to the night. A sigh left Ramona's lips as she looked at the flooding streets with one thought on her mind. How the hell was she supposed to bike home in this?

The bell signaling that someone had entered cut through Ramona's peaceful silence. A strike of lightning hit as the glass door shut behind the mystery person. Ramona raised her chin from her hand, lifting her eyes from the floor to look at them. Ramona jumped as the sound of a thunderclap boomed around her the moment her eyes locked with Steve's. "Harrington."

Ramona's voice was quiet as she examined the soaking boy. His jacket clung to his skin and his drenched hair covered his eyes. Droplets of water rolled off of the boy's body and landed with a splash to the tiled floor under his feet.

"García." Steve nodded as a greeting, a shiver shooting down his spine as his body began to shake from the cold.

"You're dripping on the floor." Ramona pointed out. "Why are you wet?"

"What are you, blind?" Steve scoffed, jutting hit thumb towards the window before running his fingers through his drenched hair.

Ramona groaned, tossing the rag onto the towel as she set a glare on him, "Shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down, Harrington."

Steve placed his hand against his chest, shaking his head in mock hurt. "Is that any way to talk to a paying customer?"

"Paying?" Ramona laughed bitterly, "Paying my ass."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve snapped, glaring at her from where he sat.

Ramona snickered in disbelief as Steve began to shake again, "Y-You got any rootbeer float coffee? I'm cold."

"Does this look like a fucking coffee shop to you, Harrington?" Ramona sneered, rolling her eyes as she adjusted her weight from one foot to the other. Steve's face reddened as he grew angrier with the girl.

"Does this look like a coffee shop to you?" Steve mimicked, raising the pitch of his voice to mimic Ramona's voice. 

"Oh, guess what?" Ramona sent him a sarcastic smile as she rose her hand, her voice sickeningly sweet as she spoke,  "I actually have a present for you!"

Steve turned his head to look at her, giving her an unimpressed look as he used the napkins to dry his face. She rose her middle finger, her smile brightening as she tilted her head, "¡Mira! Jódete."

"I hate you." Steve grumbled, crossing his arms and looking away from her.

"Yeah? Well, feeling's mutual, Harrington." Ramona said, anger and annoyance clear in her tone as she walked into the kitchen.

"I take it you two don't get on all that well." The cook mused, looking up from the stove. Ramona nodded, glancing over at Rick.

Rick had become like a father figure to Ramona. He reminded her of her dad, and part of her secretly thought that he was her guardian angel.

Ramona gave the older man a look, shaking her head. "Can't fucking stand his estúpida, molesta culo."

He paused, humming to himself as he watched Ramona fix Steve his usual rootbeer float. She glanced up at him, rolling her eyes when she saw the look he was giving her. "I swear, Rick, he's the biggest douche I've ever met."

"Oh, believe me. I know." Rick scowled at the thought, "Boy's a disrespectful piece of work."

Ramona nodded in agreement, leaning down and pulling a towl from the wrap. "Hijo de puta."

"You act like I don't know you're swearing, young lady." Rick said, pointing his spatula at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Ramona grinned, waving the man off as she opened the door with her foot.

Ramona paused in her tracks at the sight of Steve. She felt bad for him. He looked so broken down and alone. What she presumed to be his tears mixed with the droplets of rain coating his skin.

It was kind of pathetic, really. Steve "The King" Harrington was so broken down over Nancy Wheeler, her best friend who she assumed could never hurt a fly. Clearly, she was wrong about the person she knew so much about.

Ramona had found herself actually believing that nothing could break through Steve's walls, that nothing could hurt him, and nothing could damage his sky high ego. Clearly, she didn't have Steve pinned down as well as she thought she did.

"Here." Ramona said, placing the rootbeer float in front of him. Steve glanced up at her, his eyes trailing down to the towel in her hand as she pushed it towards him. "So you can dry off."

"Aw, you care." Steve cooed sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he pulled the towel from her hands.

"Don't let it get to your head, Harrington." Ramona sneered as she slid into the red seat across from him. "I still don't like your ass."

"Good." Steve gave her a look as he wiped his face dry, "Because we aren't, and never will be friends."

"Good." Ramona gave him a sharp look as she crossed her arms and sat back in the booth. "So what do you want?"

"What?"

"What do you want?" Ramona repeated, "You look like a mess."

"Gee, thanks."  Steve rolled his eyes, wondering why he even bothered to come see her.

"Anytime, Harrington." Ramona said, drumming her fingers along the smooth table.

A silence, a minorly tension filled silence, rested over the two.

"I think we broke up." Steve said, breaking the silence. Ramona tore her eyes from the lightening in the distance to look over at him.

"What?"

"Like-Like for good.. I don't think there's a fixing us." Steve continued, shaking her head. "Maybe there is, I don't know."

"She likes roses." Ramona said, "They're her favorite. Get her some."

Steve nodded slowly, "I know.. But those don't feel right for this.. I don't know, I guess I was just always all in but.. I guess she wasn't."

Ramona's gaze softened as she tightened her grip on her apron. "I thought she was too."

Steve laughed bitterly, looking up. "I guess we were both wrong, huh?"

Ramona nodded slowly, folding her hands in her lap. "I guess so."

"Thanks for listening." Steve muttered, looking down at his nearly empty cup.

"Anytime. But, you know, I'm gonna have to start charging extra for these therapy sessions, Harrington." Ramona joked, sticking her tongue out at him as he rolled his eyes at her.

"Whatever, García." Steve grumbled, crossing his arms as water dripped from his hair, landing on the table with a splash.

Ramona snickered as another booming thunderclap shook the windows of the small diner.

"God, my mom's gonna kill me." Ramona grumbled, shaking her head and resting her elbows on the table as she looked back out the window. She could barely see out of it, there was no way she was biking home in that, and the storm wasn't supposed to end until the next morning.

Steve looked away from her and to his car parked in the parking lot. "I'll take you home."

Ramona looked away from the window and over to Steve, her expression changing as she shook her head in confusion. "Harrington, you don't have to.."

"I know." Steve said, nodding his head. "I know. But I want to. I kept you up all night listening to my problems last night.. It's the least I could do.."

Ramona nodded, sending him a grateful smile. "Thanks."

"How come you never talk about your family?" Steve asked, realizing that was one of the very few times she'd mentioned her family, watching as she tore her eyes away from the pouring rain and looked over to him.

"Not much to talk about." Ramona answered with a shrug. "Dad's dead and mom's hardly around. When she is she's always yelling at me for something. Ramona do this, Ramona do that! Ramona, you're wasting opportunities! Ramona, Ramona, Ramona!"

Steve knitted his eyebrows together as she mimicked her mom, and in that moment he realized something. He realized that maybe he and Ramona weren't as different as he once thought.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

{ A/n: i love: them }

{ Translations: look fuck you, stupid annoying ass, motherfucker }