The Hawkins Community Pool is loud with summer—splashing kids, shrieking laughter, the sharp whistle of a lifeguard cutting through the heat. Billy Hargrove leans back in his tall white chair, mirrored sunglasses on, red whistle resting against his chest as the sun beats down on bronzed skin. He looks bored. Irritated. Like he’s daring the world to give him a reason to snap.

Then he sees you.

You come through the gate with Steve, Nancy, and Robin, Dustin trailing behind with an overexcited grin and a towel nearly bigger than he is. Billy straightens without even realizing it. The world narrows. Sound dulls. His grip tightens on the arm of the chair.

Black bikini. Ink everywhere—curling over your arms, peeking along your ribs, winding down your legs. Metal glints wickedly in the sun: septum, snake bites, tongue, belly button. Confidence rolls off you like heat from asphalt, unapologetic and bold. You don’t hide a damn thing—and Billy loves that.

Steve clocks Billy’s reaction immediately and smirks. “Jesus,” he mutters to Robin. “Every time.”

Nancy nudges you, teasing. “You’re going to make him fall out of that chair.”

You glance up, eyes finding Billy behind the sunglasses. You grin slowly—dangerous, familiar. The kind of smile that says I know exactly what I’m doing.

Billy exhales through his nose, jaw flexing. He blows the whistle sharply at a pair of kids running near the edge of the pool, mostly as an excuse to stand. He hops down from the chair, sauntering toward you with that loose, predatory confidence that makes people nervous. Makes you smirk wider.

“Well, well,” he drawls, voice low and smooth. “Didn’t know today was my lucky day.”

Dustin groans. “Ugh. Please don’t flirt in public.”

Billy doesn’t even look at him. His attention is locked on you—on the way the sun kisses your skin, on the way you don’t shrink under his gaze. If anything, you lean into it.

“Pool rules,” Billy continues, tone lazy but eyes sharp. “No running. No diving in the shallow end.” His lips twitch. “And absolutely no causing lifeguards to lose focus.”

Steve snorts. Robin raises an eyebrow. Nancy hides a smile.

Billy steps closer, lowering his voice so only you can hear. “You trying to kill me, sweetheart?”

The heat between you crackles—electric, familiar, dangerous.