CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
XXII. the plot thickens
[ season 3, episode 1 ]

When Veronica said the record-store opposite Scoops Ahoy was severely understaffed, Steph jumped at the opportunity of potentially landing a job there. It was the Summer term, after all. She needed something to fill the blank spaces in her schedule. A way to make money for the upcoming plans.

The moment she applied, the manager ── his name was Mick and a permanent aroma of cats treaded after him everywhere ── hired her immediately. No interview. No trial shift. No questions. Boom; Steph's name was slapped onto the rota and a wad of cash was slammed into her palm.

At first she imagined it would be a little better than stacking records all day, or filing them in the correct order.

Unfortunately, she had been wrong.

Very wrong.

A rock song hummed softly in the background of the store, drowned out mostly by the racket of the surrounding Starcourt chaos. Steph's eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, positioned directly above the counter. It had been just over an hour since she had started her afternoon shift, yet it felt as though she'd been standing there ── of course, stacking records ── for days. Weeks. Months, even. Her eyelids burned, and she was on the edge of collapsing on the spot from a mixture of fatigue and boredom.

Mick, her manager, had fallen asleep at the counter. No surprises there.

He was lazy. Very much so. The only reason he hired Steph without interview or question was because he needed someone to do the jobs he wasn't willing to do, or couldn't be bothered to do, as soon as possible. The summer meant more people flocking to the mall, which inevitably meant more customers, more people badgering the staff for specific records, more things to do, more things to order in, and more days spent catching up on work that shouldn't have been left until last minute.

Hence, Stephanie's arrival.

She worked afternoon shifts to get everything stocked, filed, stacked and ready for the next day. Mick didn't have to do anything at all; he slept and complained and that was about it.

To make up for her bad recommendation, Veronica promised she would bring her a cookie dough ice-cream at lunch. But that damned clock just seemed to be getting slower and slower.

Stephanie grumbled a string of profanities under her breath as she shoved the next record into the cabinet with a little more vigour than required. From the corner of her eye, she shot a snoring Mick a very disgusted look.

Asshat. How does he get to sleep while she did all of the work?

She deeply wished she could be absolutely anywhere else in the world. The Bahamas. Portugal. Iceland ── for the experience, not the lack of heat. Even England. Anywhere but the record store.

Longingly, she peered out of the front window.

"Excuse me?"

Steph turned toward the new voice. It was a man, in his early twenties. He was burly, extremely tall in comparison to her meek stature, and his features looked as though they'd been chiselled to appear as sharp and formidable as possible . . . like maybe he should have landed a part in the Terminator just for appearance alone.

She quirked a brow at him.

"Where is the, uh . . ." He pressed his lips into a firm line, trying to piece his words together. In that moment, Steph realised he had an accent ── Russian or something. Her frown deepened as he continued, "the toilet?"

"We don't have one in here," she said. "They're near the front doors"

"They are?" he droned cluelessly.

Steph narrowed her eyes, "Yes."

Eventually, the strange man nodded, "Okay."

As he went to turn, Steph noticed something protruding from his back pocket: a walkie-talkie. It was large, a newer model. Apparently, in one of Steph and Nancy's calls while Stephanie was in Atlanta and she was stuck here in Hawkins, Nancy's brother, Mike, had been melting everybody's brains because he had being going on and on for months about getting the Scooby Gang new walkies like that one. Very expensive walkies. They could transmit messages from miles away.

She wondered how, and why, this man had one. Why bring it to Starcourt Mall of all places?

A prolonged screech of static suddenly crackled from it, and the Russian man hastened to switch it off, reaching around to grab it from his back pocket. He shot Steph an inconspicuous look over his shoulder and marched out of the record store. Seconds before he disappeared around the corner, however, she saw him lift the walkie to his mouth and blurt a string of information to whomever was on the receiving side . . . in Russian.

She rolled her shoulders back, drawing herself up to her full height.

That was weird.

Tourists in Hawkins was like seeing sharks in Britain: almost nonexistent. There was nothing remotely interesting about the cursed town, and absolutely nothing exciting. Sure, Starcourt Mall had been recently established and proved to be a point of interest for the nearby population, but that didn't mean people from all over the world were going to flock to Hawkins just to see it. Especially not from Russia.

With a sigh, Steph shook her head. She peered up at the clock; it was almost three in the afternoon. Mick was still flopped over the counter, snoring irksomely, and probably wouldn't wake for another few hours.

That meant she had an hour or so to kill before her shift concluded. And she'd be damned if she was going to spend that time stuck in the record store, stacking CDS.

Fortunately, Scoops Ahoy was just opposite. Who would say no to free ice-cream?

Steph wouldn't. So she made her way there.

Inside, behind the counter, Ronnie and Robin were engrossed in deep conversation. A pink flush was crawling up Ronnie's throat, blooming in her freckled cheeks. She tucked a strand of fiery-red hair behind her ear as she laughed at something Robin had gesticulated with flourishing hand movements. If possible, Ronnie became even more flustered than before when Robin nudged her shoulder, winked, and slipped through the back doors into the storage room.

Veronica turned, smiling softly to herself, tracing invisible shapes against the counter top. Slowly, the redness in her cheeks faded, and her usual pallid tone returned to its former glory.

"Hey."

She flinched at Steph's sudden proclamation of her presence, lurching away from the counter. Another flush resurfaced, and she cleared her throat hastily, attempting to duck behind the ice-cream counter to hide her embarrassment.

Steph stifled her laughter, "Having fun?"

"Mhm. Sure," Ronnie replied, scratching the base of her head. She pretended to be grossly interested in the notice board behind, "Shouldn't you be working?"

"I should, but I don't want to."

Ronnie peered over her shoulder, rose a brow, "You'll get fired."

"I doubt it," Steph countered nonchalantly. She picked a plastic spoon out from the cup-holder beside the till, and began looking through the different selection of ice-creams. "Mick needs someone to do all of the work so he can sleep during his shifts. Unfortunately, I happen to be the only other employee. I'm basically keeping that place in business."

"Oh. That's crap," Ronnie muttered, pursing her lips. "I didn't realise Mick was such a . . ."

"Asshat?" Steph interjected grimly. She scoffed, shaking her head, "No, me neither."

Ronnie sighed and readjusted the mandatory Scoops Ahoy sailor's cap on her head. It was a horrendous accessory. Even Ronnie admitted the hat had no appeal whatsoever, and she actually enjoyed working there. She also mentioned Steve's constant whining about the matching hat hiding his best feature ── his hair. According to him, the lack of hair transparency ruined his chances with the women.

Ronnie said she might have mentioned his terrible communication skills with aforementioned women, accounting for his current relationship status being single. Steve hadn't liked that very much.

But it was true.

Suddenly, the swinging doors to the back storage room swung open. Robin walked out, and her eyes snagged on Steph.

"Oh, hey," she greeted with a small, timid wave. "If you're here for free ice-cream, I'm afraid I can't offer you any on this occasion."

Ronnie scoffed, "Robin."

"Don't blame me. I don't want Erica barging in here again. I seriously cannot deal with any more children."

"She's my cousin," protested Ronnie, folding her arms. "At least give her, like, a 99% discount."

Robin rolled her eyes. She glanced warily around the partly-empty store, and then grabbed her ice-cream scooper. With a particularly menacing expression, she pointed it in Ronnie's face, "Fine. But if Erica has another tantrum, you, my friend, are taking the heat."

"I will," Ronnie agreed with a firm nod.

But she didn't look too happy about those circumstances.

"Mint chocolate?" Robin inquired, voice thin with impatience. When Steph nodded in confirmation, Robin lowered the scooper into the soft mound of pale-green ice-cream, and dumped a large lump onto a cone. Inconspicuously, she handed it to Steph. "Don't say anything to anyone. Okay? I need money for new clothes, and I can't buy anything without a paying job."

Steph squeezed an unhealthy amount of chocolate sauce onto the top of her cone, "I won't say a word. Promise."

"You said that last time, and somehow Lucia found out, who then told Mike, who then told Lucas, who then blurted it out in front of Erica, who then came here──"

"I know! Word of mouth. Geez."

Before Robin could argue, the store was plummeted into darkness with a low whooshing sound that swept through the entire mall like a storm cloud. Steph immediately panicked, and her hands rushed to locate Ronnie in the shadows. She almost knocked over the obnoxiously large Scoops sign in the process.

Fortunately, Ronnie's silhouette stumbled out in front of her, "It wasn't me," she whispered softly, practically reading Steph's initial thoughts. "Maybe a power cut."

Steph's anxiety depleted with relief. She hummed doubtfully, "Maybe."

Another moment passed. The customers murmured between themselves, sounding displeased by the unprecedented turn of events. Feeling slightly perplexed herself, Stephanie leaned against the counter, frowning. She attempted to eat her ice-cream in solid darkness, but wound up accidentally licking her hand more times than the actual condiment, so she gave that up pretty quickly.

Then, as if nothing had happened, the lights flared brightly to life, and Starcourt Mall reignited in flame.

It also illuminated Steve Harrington, standing beside the light switch, looking incredibly proud of himself. He shrugged, gesturing to the ON switch. "See. Works."

"If you say so, Dingus," Robin mused.

She walked back through the double doors into the storage room, shouldering Steve out of the way in the meantime. He scowled in her direction, and turned back to the counter. When he saw Steph standing there, looking just as awkward and out of place, he feigned a warm smile.

Ronnie glanced between the pair. Last time they talked, it had been horrifying bland and excruciatingly awkward.

She decided to leave them to their own devices, and scampered through the doors into the back after Robin. Furiously, Steph attempted to latch her hand around the red-head's shirt in order to drag her back into the stifling awkwardness, but missed by a mile. Ronnie successfully disappeared into the backend of Scoops Ahoy, saluted, and Steph was left to stare at the boy she had . . . mixed feelings about.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, whistling a tune under his breath. He slowly treaded toward the till, looking anywhere but Steph's eyes.

"So. . ." he began, dragging out the O. "Dustin comes back from that nerd camp tomorrow."

Steph had no idea ── she hadn't even asked. She swallowed her guilt, having not kept entirely up to date with the dweebs, despite everything they went through and did for one another last year, "He does?"

"Yeah. Lucia said they're planning on surprising him when he gets back," he informed, pacing behind the counter. "I wanted to go, but," He gestured exasperatedly to the Scoops Ahoy sailor's cap on his head, "I'm working."

He then tried to lean on the till coolly, but completely fumbled, and instead banged his hip against the edge of it. The money draw lurched open with a resounding cling, punching him squarely in the stomach. He pursed his lips and slammed the draw closed, cheeks shining ruby. Surprisingly, he masked his pain well ── not so much his embarrassment.

Steph tried not to laugh. She ran a hand through her unkempt blonde waves, "I haven't seen Dustin since I left for Atlanta."

"I know," Steve nodded. He averted his gaze, "Maybe you should go."

"Yeah. Maybe I should." She considered the possibilities, "I'll ask Lucia first. The dweebs might not want me there."

Steve's bewildered expression juxtaposed that thought greatly. He scoffed, fidgeting with the metal scooper attached to his belt, "Trust me, they aren't going to say no. They've been talking about you non-stop."

Her lips parted on their own accord, "Have they?"

"Mhm. Constantly."

She didn't know how to feel about that. Of all the dweebs, Steph presumed only Lucia and Dustin had taken a liking to her. And by liking she meant a heavy tolerance, which many found difficult to obtain in her presence. Her own mother said she was a task, a nuisance; that her attitude was volatile. She exhausted her on a daily basis. Many people did not want to waste time trying to like someone who didn't bother changing themselves to become more tolerable, her mother had repeated on a daily basis.

But if the preteens had been talking about her constantly, as Steve stated, then maybe she wasn't as much of a nuisance as she assumed.

Her mother was wrong.

"Don't look so surprised," Steve added. "Everyone missed you."

Everyone.

Inadvertently, he was telling her how much he'd felt her absence. One day she was there, in his car, listening to Queen as they drove to that farm half an hour away just to see their favourite horses . . . and then she was gone, flying away on an airplane to a city located almost ten hours away.

Had he known about her imminent departure? Yes. That didn't make it any easier saying goodbye, though.

And God, the awkwardness between them was just immense. He hadn't thought they'd be so tense in one another's presence. Over the phone, it had been different ── he felt like he could talk to her without being too aware of his appearance. Now, it was just . . . weird.

But he was happy she had come back. Hawkins hadn't felt like Hawkins without Stephanie Miller.

"I missed everyone, too," she agreed, looking anywhere but his eyes. "Surprisingly."

Steve's usual smirk bloomed, "Nice to know."

She opened her mouth to speak, but a gaggle of cackling girls ── who Steph recognised to be her ex-classmates ── interrupted her. They shoved by her to reach the counter, and one particularly loud girl amongst the group shot Stephanie a glare over her shoulder and scowled. She lowered her face to her friend's ear, and whispered something that was loud enough to hear.

"That's Steph Miller. Her cousin is that girl who went missing years ago and then came back. Veronica Hayes: she's the freak that works here."

Her mouth curved into a humoured smirk and they both turned inconspicuously, eyeing Steph. In return, however, Steph rolled her eyes.

After last year, words no longer had the capacity to hurt or irritate her as much as they used to, not after everything she went though. Words were minuscule in comparison to inter-dimensional monsters and freaky labs. The girls could say whatever they wanted about her, Veronica, Aunt Jenny ── anyone really. It didn't affect her. Their opinions didn't have the power to change anything. It was just words; it was like water off a duck's back.

She laughed at them and watched in satisfaction as their conniving expressions melted.

"Ahoy, ladies!" Steve greeted suddenly, and they all individually jumped in alarm.

Steph's laughter dwindled as she watched Steve attempt to badly flirt with them. They didn't reciprocate, or appreciate, his sentiments, but he continued attempting to win them over regardless, and leaned flirtatiously over the counter. The ringleader ── the same girl who whispered into her friend's ear earlier ── raised her brows disapproving, exchanging glances with the rest of her bubblegum crew.

Lips twisted, she smirked deviously, "Uh, hi."

Steve couldn't read body language very well. He took her contempt as coquette.

With a wink, he leaned over the counter-top, "What can I get for you, ladies?"

Quickly realising she was no longer needed, or wanted, there, Steph pushed herself away from the counter. Steve didn't notice.

She began walking toward the doors.

But, in fact, Steve did notice her leaving, and almost completely forgot about the girls in front of him; an opportunity that had arisen which he no longer considered.

Why was he such an idiot? He was too caught up chasing the thing he felt was near enough to what he truly wanted. The thing that was right in front of him, and heading out the doors. Shit. Steve felt his heart stutter in his chest, the words on his tongue tumbling out in a string of near incomprehensible nonsense the girls frowned at, as he tried to stop Stephanie from leaving.

He attempted to call out for her, "Steph!"

But she didn't hear him.

"Wait!"

One of the girls blocked his view. Steve attempted to peer over her shoulder, but the rest of the bubblegum crew packed together like a swarm of angry bees behind her, and he could no longer see past their wild, curly ponytails, or bright, obnoxious hair pieces. The glitter was blinding ── but not as much as his stupidity.

With sinking dread, he realised Robin was right.

He sucked.

All this time, he was trying to win over pretty girls just to distract himself from the fact he knew he would never have a chance with her. Her with bleach blonde hair and an aroma of lavender and cigarettes. Her who would never in a million years see him as potential. He who never batted an eye in her direction throughout all their years of acquaintance. 

King Steve ruined his chances.

Normal Steve wanted to change that.

But maybe it was too late.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

if you saw the chapter before this one,
no you actually didn't. i didn't
like it all, so i deleted it and changed
it to this . . . which is significantly
better i hope.

but this is THEIR season guys.
steph & steve <3