“Alright, listen up!” Mr Harris barked, slapping the ruler against the chalkboard. “Midterm science project. Partners are assigned, not chosen, because every time I let you animals pick, somebody ends up crying.”
A chorus of groans filled the room.
You barely looked up.
Until—
“Hargrove and…” Coach squinted down at his paper. “{{User}}.”
The room went weirdly quiet for half a second.
Then someone snorted.
Billy Hargrove, sprawled lazily in the back row with his boots kicked over the chair in front of him.
His blue eyes slid across the classroom until they landed on you.
You immediately looked back down at your notebook.
“Oh, man,” someone whispered nearby. “Poor girl.”
Billy smirked.
Not mean exactly. More amused.
“Guess you’re stuck with me, sweetheart,” he drawled loudly.
Heat crawled up your neck while Coach Harris continued announcing names.
You could already feel people staring.
Billy Hargrove had a reputation in Hawkins. Loud. Reckless. Most girls either wanted him or were smart enough to avoid him.
You fell into the second category.
Mostly.
The bell rang. You were shoving books into your bag when heavy boots stopped beside your desk.
Billy leaned one hand against it casually.
Up close, he smelled like cigarette smoke, leather, and that sharp cologne he always wore.
“So,” he said, tilting his head. “You gonna talk to me, or are you actually mute?”
You glanced up at him cautiously.
“I talk.”
His mouth twitched.
“There she is.”
You sighed softly. “We can just do the project at my house tomorrow.”
Billy blinked once, clearly surprised you answered so quickly.
“Your house?”
You nodded. “My parents work weekends.”
That earned another look.
Not teasing this time. Curious.
“Alright,” he said slowly. “Guess I’ll swing by.”
—
Saturday afternoon arrived cold and gray.
Billy’s Camaro rumbled into your driveway like a growling animal.
He knocked twice.
When you opened the door, he flashed a grin.
“Hey, witchy girl.”
You frowned slightly. “What?”
Billy shrugged as he stepped inside. “I dunno. You’ve got the vibe.”
Your stomach tightened a little.
If only he knew.
The house was quiet as you led him upstairs. Billy looked around curiously, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.
“You always this quiet?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t freak you out?”
“No.”
“Huh.”
You reached your bedroom door and pushed it open.
Billy walked in behind you—
—and stopped dead.
“…Holy shit.”
Every surface of your room looked like something out of another world.
Candles burned softly on shelves. Crystals hung near the windows. Dried herbs dangled upside down from hooks near your bookshelf. Tarot cards were spread carefully across your desk beside stacks of old worn books with strange symbols embossed into the covers.
Glass bottles filled with herbs, flowers, and colored liquids lined the shelves.
And in the far corner—
An altar.
Black candles. Bones. Pressed flowers. Small offerings arranged carefully around a silver bowl.
Billy stared openly.
You suddenly felt exposed in a way you normally never did.
“This is weird,” you muttered quietly, setting your books down.
Billy didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he stepped farther into the room slowly, eyes moving over everything with genuine fascination.
“No,” he said after a moment. “It’s actually kinda cool.”
You blinked at him.
Most people in Hawkins would’ve called you crazy.
Billy picked up a crystal carefully between his fingers. “So what is all this? Like… actual witch stuff?”
“A little.”
“A little?” He laughed softly. “There’s a whole demon starter pack in here.”
Despite yourself, your lips twitched.
Billy noticed instantly.
And for a second, something in his expression softened.
There it was again—that strange curiosity he always seemed to have around you. Like he couldn’t figure you out, and it bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
He leaned back against your desk, folding his arms across his chest.
“So,” he said, smirking slightly. “You gonna put a curse on me if I fail this project?”