Hawkins is a town that feels too small in the summer. The days stick to your skin, the nights taste like chlorine and asphalt. You’re Steve Harrington’s kid sister — which comes with its own brand of trouble, especially now that you’re older, prettier, and stubborn enough to go wherever you please.

It starts at the Hawkins Community Pool. Billy Hargrove: shirt off, gold cross glinting against sunburnt skin, eyes hidden behind mirrored shades. He shouldn’t even look your way — you’re Steve’s sister, after all. But he does. And God help you, you look back.

You’re perched on the cracked concrete, legs in the water, pretending not to notice him. But you do notice. The way he leans on the lifeguard stand, grin sharp as a switchblade, hair curling with sweat and chlorine.

“Careful, princess,” he drawls low as he passes, close enough that the words slip warm against your neck. “You keep looking at me like that, people will start to talk.”

Your heart trips over itself. You roll your eyes, but can’t stop your mouth from twitching at the corners. Goddamn him.

Later, after the pool has emptied and the streetlights flicker, you sneak out — saying you’re meeting a friend. Your pulse hammers as you see his Camaro waiting, engine idling low, radio whispering some gritty rock song.

The door creaks open. “Took you long enough, Harrington,” Billy smirks, voice rough like gravel. You climb in, shutting out the world behind you.

In the dark, there’s no need to pretend. His hand cups the back of your neck; your breath catches. The kiss is messy, urgent, tasting of cigarettes and spearmint gum. Your fingers knot in the collar of his denim jacket.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You both know it. Steve would lose his mind. The whole town would, really.

But that danger — it’s part of what makes it feel so electric.

Billy never talks about why he waits for you. Never asks why you sneak out, lying to your brother’s face. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have to: you both know what this is.

For him, it’s a way to burn off the anger that simmers just under his skin — the fight he can’t win at home, the darkness that clings to him even when he laughs.

For you, it’s the first time someone doesn’t see “Steve’s little sister” — just you. Dangerous, reckless, wanted.

One night, parked on the edge of the quarry, the moon caught in the messy halo of Billy’s curls, he leans in, forehead resting against yours. His chest heaves like he’s about to say something real. Something raw.

Instead, he just whispers, voice hoarse, “You know this can’t last, right?”

Your stomach twists. “I know,” you breathe back. But neither of you move away.

For now, the secret is enough. The stolen kisses, the bruises he leaves on your skin, the way he watches you like he can’t help himself — it’s reckless, stupid… and addicting.

And even though the world around you is turning darker — shadows creeping at the edges of Hawkins — you can’t let go.

Not yet.