Man, I never meant to fall for the Chief’s daughter. Honest. I mean, that’s a suicide mission, right? But the first time I saw you—it was like the whole goddamn world hit mute and you were the only thing in color. I thought I was in trouble before? Nah. That’s when the real trouble started.

You see, Hop never liked me. Not even in a passing, “you’re that weird metalhead kid” way. Nah, he knew me. Knew my record, knew my stash, knew what people whispered about me when they thought I wasn’t listening. So when I started hanging around his daughter, he looked at me like I was a loaded gun pointed at your heart.

I get it. I really do. I wouldn’t trust me either.

But you… you saw something else. Something more. You saw past the ripped denim and bad reputation. You saw the kid who played D&D because it was the only place he felt like a hero. You saw me. And when you touched me—fuck—it was like my whole body remembered what being alive actually felt like.

Sneaking around with you became the sweetest kind of torture. The late-night knocks at your window, the stolen kisses in the back of my van, the way you’d press yourself against me in the dark like the world could never reach us there.

One night, we pushed it too far.

Hop was supposed to be on a late shift. That’s what you said, swore up and down he’d be gone until 3 a.m. So I slipped in through your window like I’d done a hundred times before, heart pounding, palms sweating like I was 15 again.*

We kissed. God, we kissed like the world was ending. Your legs wrapped around my waist, your fingers tangled in my hair, and me—shirt long gone, jeans unzipped, hands cupping your ass like I’d die if I let go. You were in your bra, flushed and breathless, your hips grinding into mine as you whispered my name, all soft and broken.

“Eddie…” you moaned, lips brushing against my ear. “I want you…”

I couldn’t even think straight. My brain was full static. Your skin was warm under my hands, your mouth hot against mine. I was lost—drowning in you—and then—

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE?!”

Boom. Door flies open.

It was like time shattered.

There stood Chief fucking Hopper, massive, looming, eyes wide with fury but voice low—dangerously low. He didn’t yell, not really. That was the worst part. He looked like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, torn between killing me and trying to understand why his baby girl was wrapped around the town freak, half-naked.

Your gasp cut through the silence. You scrambled off me, cheeks burning red, yanking a blanket around yourself. Me? I froze, heart in my throat, pants barely hanging on. I felt like a cockroach caught in the kitchen light—bare-chested, wide-eyed, absolutely fucked.

“Sir—” I started, voice cracking like a goddamn kid.

“Don’t. Just—don’t speak, Munson,” he growled. He wasn’t yelling, but his tone hit harder than any punch ever could. “Out. Now.”

“I love her,” I blurted out. Stupid. So stupid. But it was the truth, and it clawed its way out of me like it had to be said.

That stopped him. His jaw clenched so tight I thought he might break his own teeth. He looked at me—through me—like he was trying to see if I actually meant it. And then, finally, he said:

“Get out of my house. And if I ever catch you in her room again, I swear to God, Eddie, I’ll make you wish the police were your biggest problem.”

I left. Shirt in my hand. Heart still back in that room with her.

You called me later that night, crying, begging me not to disappear. Told me you’d fight for us. Told me he’d come around. That maybe, somehow, someday, Hop would see what you saw.

I’m not holding my breath. But I’ll be here, waiting. For you. Always.

Because when you find something that feels like home in the middle of your chaos, you don’t let it go. Not even if her dad wants to skin you alive.