CHAPTER FIVE
V. better luck next time
[ season 2, episode 3 ]

The shrill squeal of Ms Davidson's whistle announced the halftime break of the women's soccer game. Steph's team were winning by a mile ── with the points currently standing at 3-0. Since she played soccer in her free time for the Hawkins High team, she had been chosen as team captain for the blue-bibs, meaning they were at an immediate advantage over the red-bibs.

Her teammates were semi-decent players. A girl by the name of Ruth was also a player for the school's team, and Steph had instantaneously picked her from the lineup prior to the start of the game. They were both fiercely headstrong and competitive when it came to sports, leading to several clashes during the most intense parts of the soccer game, but nothing too inconsolable.

As striker, Ruth had managed to score two goals, and Steph one. The remaining members of the team merely wandered around the pitch, kicking the ball occasionally, certainly not as bothered by the outcome as Steph and Ruth.

They left all the hard work to the experts.

In the gymnasium, the guys were playing basketball. And in the mix of sweaty competitors, there was Billy Hargrove. He proved to be a major distraction to the girls participating in soccer outside ── seeing as the gym door was cracked open and they could clearly see him ( running around topless ) from their sporadic positions on the pitch. Making matters all the more worse, Billy smirked over at the giggling band of soccer players every two seconds, with the captains of each team yelling for the absentminded swoons to pass the ball.

He was causing problems everywhere he went. It was his speciality, it seemed.

As the teams dispersed for halftime, Steph rolled her eyes in irritation.

"I seriously don't see the appeal with Billy," Ruth declared, running forward to fall into step with her fellow comrade. "Like, he's just not attractive. Not even from certain lights."

Steph snorted, wiping her sweaty brow with the back do her hand, "Careful. The seniors will murder you behind the science block if they overhear."

"I'll take my chances."

The duo walked side by side, following the gravel path encircling the gymnasium building, talking about their plan for the next half of the game. A flock of girls were standing by the gym door, exchanging high-pitched squeals of admiration upon seeing the infamous Hargrove. Steph happened to gaze inside the building out of interest, and saw Billy attempting to knock over Steve Harrington, the opposition, with an intimidating swerve of the basketball. Unfortunately, he succeeded in his attempt, and Steve's shoes screeched against the shiny floorboards as he toppled over and onto his backside.

Steph hissed through her teeth. Damn.

Steve quickly scrambled up from the ground, his ego indefinitely tarnished and bruised thanks to the insufferable new kid's desire to embarrass anyone who dared challenge him. The class chortled at Steve, clapping Billy on the back for his accomplishments.

Fuelled by adrenaline for his team to win, Steph skidded toward the door and pumped her fist in the air, "Come on, Harrington!"

His head whipped to the side, eyes growing wide. Once he saw an entire group of girls watching the practice match, his heart sunk ── had he really just fallen over in front of so many ladies? God. His cheeks tingled with warmth, and he quickly tuned out the bustling crowd, instead focusing his gaze on the scoreboard.

They were losing horribly.

"Man, I'm done with this game." grumbled one of Steve's teammates.

Before Steve could say anything argumentative or reprimanding in return, the boy twisted on the heel of his foot strutted off the court, waving a nonchalant hand at the rest of the team yelling for him to come back. He joined the benched ── all of whom did not budge to replace the quitter.

"Come on, guys!" Steve urged, waving his arms around in frustration.

They were in need of a small forward, one for the most important positions in the game. Billy's team were absolutely thrashing them, and Steve's chest ached when he realised the scores upon the board were humiliatingly different. He was supposed to be the star player. Letting this happen . . . well, it wasn't ordinary. It was mortifying, and on the sidelines, he couldn't help but notice a determined looking Stephanie Miller.

What would she perceive him as now? She already despised him ── or so it seemed ── and taunted him for things out of his control. The teasing was often reciprocated, but he couldn't help but take offence to the things she said sometimes. Steph, however, never seemed phased.

Steve's eyes roved around the gymnasium almost mechanically, landing on the same one person each time. A shock of white-blonde hair, faint smudges of eyeliner smeared across her lids, lips peeling back to reveal a toothy grin . . . she was like an electromagnetic thing that his gaze was constantly drawn toward.

Stephanie Miller had captured his interests in an unrelenting trap. Suddenly and swiftly. Their spellbinding conversation in the car yesterday ought to have something to do with it.

"Harrington!" one of his teammates yelled, ripping Steve from his momentary entranced stupor. "We need a small forward! These cowards won't take it on."

He gestured toward the boys perched on the bench. Unmoving.

Steve ran a hand through his unkempt hair. On the opposing side of the court, Billy and his shirtless comrades were laughing boisterously, occasionally pointing over at Steve's unfortunate team. The small forward playing alongside Hargrove was a somewhat professional basketball competitor, both outside of school and inside ── landing him with the potential for a scholarship for college studies.

Even though this game was merely practice, Steve couldn't allow his ego to suffer more. And he didn't want to risk the chances of being thrown off the team by coach, replaced by the insufferable Hargrove.

There was only person he could think to replace their small forward.

Sporty and agile, determined and incandescent. Maybe they had a chance.

"Miller!"

The girl at the gymnasium door frowned immediately at the sudden onslaught of attention thrown her way by the basketball team. Steve was impatiently gesturing for her to come over, to which she pressed a finger to her chest out of befuddlement, ensuring it was indeed her who had been called.

With a nod, the latter was quickly confirmed.

She gave Ruth a strange look, shrugging. The brunette did not sympathise, however, and shoved her friend onto the court, snickering quietly when Steph turned to flip her the bird.

"Over here." Steve ordered briskly.

Steph merely stretched her arms outward as if taking flight, throughly confused, "What?"

"You know how to play basketball, right?"

"Well, yeah ──"

Relieved, Steve clapped his hands together, "Great. Stand over there."

She blinked quickly.

The entire opposition were chortling loudly at the concept of a girl playing against them ── because girls were not competition, right? Little housewives couldn't play men's games. Wrong. Steph's felt the familiar ambitious twinge filtering in her stomach, and her jaw tightened out of frustration. Billy's eyes tried pinning her to the spot, to make her squirm nervously and throw in the towel, but he didn't know her. Not much had the power to make Steph squirm, especially if it consisted of an ego-inflated jerk and a competitive game of basketball.

Despite the confusion she felt at being chosen to play for Steve's side, she bent low and clasped her hands around her knees.

She wasn't team captain of the girls soccer team for nothing.

"Let's give this sucker a taste of his own medicine."

The intensity of her words earned the undivided attention of Steve's entire team, and they each let out sharp huffs of determination. One of the players even clapped Steph on the back, causing her adrenaline to pump even louder in her ears.

Only a moment passed before the whistle sounded out.

Billy quickly grasped the orange ball, bouncing it across the entire length of the linoleum court. Steph was up front beside the net, stretching her arms above her head as the Hargrove neared.

With narrowed eyes, she watched him. He was a decent player, that much was clear ── but only because people were scared of him. He used intimidation as a tactic to gain a victory for his team, as well as his height. Nobody dared approach him, apart from Steve, who had already faced the repercussions of putting up a fight.

But Steph refused to feel fear. It was a game.

The basketball thudded against the ground, and Billy's wild expression came into clear view. He smirked when she tried to intercept the ball from his grip, rounding on him haphazardly. And he laughed when she stumbled backward, unable to get a good angle.

Billy made the shot, and it soared through the hooped net.

The Hargrove's dilating eyes found Steph's, "Better luck next time." he drawled.

With clenched teeth, Steph merely glowered at him.

The game raged on for another five minutes, with no more points scored, but many fouls made. Steve had finally caught the ball, and his teammates were scattered across the court, blocked by the opposition. Behind him, Steph was clear ── which was an advantage, seeing as she was faster than half the team and would be able to make it to the bottom of the court in seconds. And, as the small forward, she could attempt to score.

Steve's sneakers screeched against the linoleum as he turned.

He held Steph's gaze, and threw the ball across the space between them.

She jumped into action immediately. The ball was rough in her hands, rolling around in her palms as she threw it to the ground and caught it once it bounced up again. Someone who she didn't know from the opposing team tried to intercept her, but she was quicker and managed to twirl away. Being smaller was an advantage, too.

Of course, Billy decided to take matters into his own hands, as Steve yelled encouraging chants from the bottom of the court.

He surged in front of her, waving his hands around as a means of distraction. Steph continued bouncing the ball, shooting him a glare that only made his smirk grow. She tried to dupe him into going left, but apparently it was a trick people used in this game very often, so he didn't fall for it and snatched the ball from her grip.

Billy winked in her direction, "Nice try, princess."

She grumbled in frustration.

In soccer, arrogant people got what they deserved. It was a rough game ── only headstrong people were able to play to the absolute best of their ability. Basketball, on the other hand, gave assholes like Billy Hargrove a chance to flaunt their tyrannical behaviour and use it to thrust themselves toward victory.

Steph loathed those types of people.

Without thinking, she followed after Billy. He cleared a path toward the net on the opposite side of the court, with Steve's team dispersing as he approached. But Steph stayed on his tail, clenching her hands into fists.

In the middle of the court, he and Steve found one another.

"Come on, King Steve," Billy snarled breathlessly. "Show me what you've got."

That didn't end well for Steve. He ended up on his ass again, cheeks exploding with colour, as Billy raced past him.

Steph was still behind him.

As he repurposed his broad stance toward the net, Steph skidded up to his side. He snickered quietly to himself, which only angered her more. She tried to snatch the ball, but he moved aside and bounced it tantalising, arching a challenging brow.

It looked like he was going to say something, but she refused to let that happen.

Her foot glided across the linoleum, and pummelled fiercely into Billy's ankles. The force of her swipe tripped him over, and much to her amusement, he tumbled to the floor like a dropped bag of bricks, landing flat on his backside.

The anger glinting in his eyes was visceral.

"Better luck next time." Steph drawled, repeating what he had told her only five minutes prior.

While Billy was on the floor, she turned around and tossed the ball toward Steve ── who was grinning judiciously ── despite the coach's demands for a foul to be drawn as a result of Steph's inappropriate actions.

Fortunately, Steve's team shot the ball through the net, and scored.

They all ran toward her as the whistle was drawn to announce the point, because Billy had refused to take the foul, regardless of the coach's demands for it to be tallied. He pulled himself up from the ground, his fury mounting the more he gazed upon Steph.

She was grinning wickedly.

Steve came over and patted her on the shoulder, "Nice one, Miller. The look on his face was priceless."

The whistle blew again, commencing the final round of the game.

Steph sprung into action instantaneously, eyes finding Billy amongst the rowdy players quicker than light. They were all peeved ── you know, unrightfully so. Their team could give and give, but they could never take. Aggression equalled aggression. All sports players should know that. But their superiority complex was blinding, both to them and their peers.

Steph backtracked to the bottom of the court, taking up the defence for her team.

Like a raging bull, Billy charged full steam ahead toward her. But much to her confusion, he skidded to a stop in the centre of the court, glancing between the net and her face.

From his position, Billy made the shot.

However, the force behind this aforementioned shot wasn't meant to land the ball in the midst of the net. No. Not even close. That could wait. He had his gaze trained somewhere else ── another target. Another goal. Something that would be ruled as an immediate accident, which was exactly his aim.

Nobody crossed Billy Hargrove and got away with it.

The ball smashed against Steph's face.

She promptly lurched back, mouth falling open through a mixture of pain and shock, hand flying to her nose. A chorus of gasps broke out around her ── from the crowd standing by the door, to the gymnasium audience, and the players lining the court.

Something warm trickled over Steph's lips. A sharp pain flared around the bridge of her nose, unmatched compared to the sudden ache building behind her eyes.

She pulled her hand away from the injury.

Her fingers were coated in crimson, and a metallic scent wafted into her nostrils, which felt slightly blocked. The sight of blood made her internally and externally cringe ── nausea spewing over her like a tidal wave crashing out at sea.

"What the hell, man?" she heard Steve's voice demand angrily.

Their was a round of laughter. All Steph could feel was pain.

A hand landed on her shoulder, but she quickly shrugged it off. She didn't know who it was, or care to look, because she was too focused on trying not to cry in front of everyone, despite the blood dripping on the ground below her feet and the agonising pain that had erupted in her nose.

Do not cry.

The comforting hand came back to her shoulder, and this time Steph didn't object.

They led her away from the chaos.

When the gymnasium doors closed behind the pair, and the strikingly bright hallway lights flooded her vision, Stephanie finally allowed herself to shed a single tear. Only one.

Her mask had cracked.

✧.｡. *.

"It's bleeding pretty heavily." Steve admitted, sitting beside Steph in the nurse's office, adamant to remain there until the nurse returned. They shared the lone couch at the corner of the bleach-white room, much to the Miller's dismay ── because apparently Steve was only capable reminding her how horrible an injury she had acquired.

Her voice was muffled behind the cloud of stained tissue pressed to her nose, "You don't have to tell me that every three seconds, Harrington. I know."

"But still ──"

"If you say something about the intensity of the bleeding right now, you're gonna end up with a bloody nose, too."

Steve gulped and flashed the girl beside him a quick thumbs up before sinking further into the sofa chair. He crossed one leg over the other, impatiently tapping the leather arm. His gaze flittered from the tickling clock perched on the wall to the box of medical supplies peeking out from beneath the exam table.

In spite of what had occurred in the gymnasium half an hour ago, Steph still refused to let her guard down. To shed her hard exterior ── a shield.

Steve hadn't even seen her cry, which was the most confusing part about the entire ordeal. Billy humiliated her in front of so many people, going so far to purposely injure her, and she barely seemed stirred by it.

Then, Steve recalled the conversation they had in his car the night of the party. Fake it flowers. Fake it 'till you make it. Put up a false alternative, and nobody would be able to decipher your true emotions. Nobody would be able to hold anything against you.

However, Steve never realised it was to this extent, delved so deeply into everything she did.

But he didn't know Steph Miller. Not really.

And that was exactly why she had intrigued him.

"Ah, geez." she groaned suddenly, an invisible lead pulling Steve back into the dark abyss of reality. The tissues were throughly soaked in scarlet blood, pooling into Steph's hands the moment she tugged the only means of protection away from her nose. "Can you grab me a gauze?"

He obeyed rather swiftly.

Steph watched as Steve raked a hand through the medical supply box, tossing bandages aside and other useless things that he didn't need. When he finally found a gauze amongst the compressed mess, he whooped quietly and jumped up to his full height.

"Such an achievement." Steph drawled teasingly.

"Well, do you want it or not?" Steve challenged.

With a roll of her eyes, Steph snatched the gauze from his hands. However, having took her hand away from her nose momentarily, the blood began to gush freely, as if a faucet knob had been twisted and twisted until it couldn't turn anymore.

She tipped her head up, blindly trying to rip open the packet.

"You make things way harder for yourself, do you know that?" Steve said with a light scoff.

The couch sank as the Harrington retook his seat beside her. Steph kept her head lolled back, pinching the tip of her nose despite the ache that radiated across her entire facial structure as she did so. She could feel the blood that was pooling in her nose trickling down the back of her throat.

Much to her agitation, Steve swiped the gauze packet from her hands and tore it open.

"First of all," he began, placing the gauze on the table beside him. He pulled out a bunch of tissue from the small cardboard box in the middle of the sofa. "never tilt your head back. You're only causing yourself a ton of problems."

Steph scoffed, "Who the hell are you ── Mark Craig?"

"Mark Craig?"

"Yeah," Steph shrugged, voice incredibly muffled the longer she kept her head back. "He's from that show, St Elsewhere."

"Never seen it."

"I didn't think so. It requires intelligence, something you lack."

She didn't have to look across at Steve to know he was rolling his eyes. It was a joke ── something that honestly tickled his amusement, though he would never admit it. He was often baffled by how she was so witty all of the time, even when injured. Honestly, he envied it.

"Tilt your head forward." Steve ordered softly.

Against that idea, Steph spluttered, "I'm going to get blood everywhere!"

"Oh, my God," Steve huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose out of frustration. "Can you just do it? I'm trying to help you here, Miller."

"Fine."

She tipped her head forward, looking straight toward the office door. Blood trickled over her fingers, dripping onto her gym clothes ── which was merely a grey shirt with the Hawkins High School crest printed over the front.

Steve cupped her chin in his hands, turning her head in his direction. His forefinger grazed her jawline ── trailing to the base of her chin. Before Steph could say anything in protest, he pressed a bunch of tissues to her face, halting the stream of blood and capturing it in the white cloth.

"What are you doing?"

Steve shrugged in response, "Helping."

He held her displeased gaze.

There was a storm brewing in her eyes, tempestuous and electric ── bound to wreak havoc, as it always seemed to do. Meeting Steph's gaze was like being thrust into the eye of a hurricane, stillness bubbling all around, but a deeper chaos lurking beyond his perception.

He found himself lost in the turmoil of cobalt.

This worried Steph deeply, shaking her to the core. She resented the idea of someone figuring out her true persona. Understanding her, acknowledging her.

Seeing her.

She wanted to remain unknown. It was better that way.

After a moment or two, she reached up and curled her fingers around Steve's wrist, the storm in her eyes growing unprecedentedly torrential. She pushed his hands off of her face, taking the tissue into her own grasp to cease the bleeding.

She pressed her lips into a thin line, "Thanks, but I have working hands."

There was a foreign genuineness in her low voice that made Steve's mouth curve upward.

They sat in silence for a while, waiting for the nurse to arrive. Apparently, a freshman had fallen over and grazed his knee, and he required immediate attention. In Steph's opinion, that was utter bullshit ── freshmen were constantly first on the waiting list, even if their injury was merely a prick on the finger from a small pin.

She was stuck waiting until God knows when, wondering whether or not Billy Hargrove had broken her nose or only bust it.

Fortunately, it didn't feel broken. And it wasn't bruised, which was an indefinite bonus.

Steve sighed heavily, crossing his arms over his chest. He was looking to strike up a conversation, bored of the silence. "You're a pretty decent basketball player."

"Really?" she inquired.

"Yeah. Way better than Verona ── like, by a mile off."

Verona was a player on the school team. He only secured a place with the squad because his father was a famous basketball player's dietician, or something. Although, it did little to improve his skills.

Steph mumbled her agreements, "I guess so."

"And that foul?" Steve's eyes were wide as he recalled. He puffed his cheeks out, slicing a hand through the air out of pure astonishment. "Amazing. The look on Hargrove's face was perfect."

"It wasn't that amazing." Steph countered.

Steve whipped around to face her, appalled by the incredulous remark, "Are you kidding? You floored that son of a bitch. I haven't seen anything like that since '81."

He managed to intrigue her, "What happened in '81?"

"Well ──"

The infamous story was rudely interrupted by the office door opening. Of course.

Finally, the nurse had made her long awaited arrival, a sheen of sweat gleaming over her forehead. She looked inconspicuously between Steph and Steve, realising she had interrupted something, but barely cared as she swiftly dragged a chair toward Steph.

The nurse was at least forty, with chestnut hair that was framed by grey wisps. She had more wrinkles than the typical middle-aged woman, but her high demanding job was likely the main cause of that. Alongside the definite smoking habit ── seeing as there was an indistinct scent of cigarettes encircling the woman like an aura.

"This is why I abhor sports." she grumbled, casting her eyes upon the bundle of bloodied tissue. "The absolute bane of my existence."

Steve tried to hide his amusement, but failed. The nurse glowered at him, noticing his gym attire and realising the time. Not to mention, she already had many encounters with Steve Harrington before, and had no patience when it came to dealing with him.

"Next period starts in five," the woman informed, her voice sharp as a dagger. "Shouldn't you be off to the changing rooms, Harrington?"

He cleared his throat, distended pupils growing smaller, "Uh, yeah. Yes."

"Off you go."

Steve exchanged a brief look with Steph before his departure. He gave her a slow nod, a small wave, and then took off through the door with an unchanged expression. A smile graced her lips ── one that she couldn't hide, no matter how hard she tried.

The nurse shook her head, "Nothing but trouble, that boy."

Steph nodded. But she wasn't quite sure how much she agreed with that statement.

"Now, let's see this nose of yours."

Steph brought the tissues away from her face. Blood seeped through her nostrils, but not as intensely this time, which was an immediate relief.

The nurse carefully grazed her fingers along the bridge of Steph's nose, inspecting the damage with furrowed brows. A crackle of pain trembled down the cartilage, coming and going in waves.

"Is it broken?" Steph asked the first thing on her mind.

"No. Luckily, it's just bruised."

A breath of relief clawed it's way up her windpipe.

The nurse patted Steph's shoulder tenderly, a motherly smile tugging at her lips, "Coming from me, I'm glad you gave that Billy Hargrove a taste of his own medicine. Poor kids have been in and out of here all week because of him."

Steph struggled with what to say, so settled with a slightly confused, "Thank you?"

The brunette woman unravelled the gauze and a strip of nose plaster. Gently, she placed them over the inflamed injury, slightly stunned by how still Steph was despite the searing pain it likely caused.

Once finished, she clapped her gloved hands together, "I don't want to see you back here again, okay? Try not to pick trouble ── especially with people twice your size."

The girl nodded, "I won't."

As she left the nurses office, Steph was absolutely sure she had just made a false promise.