Hawkins High’s parking lot buzzed like a hornet’s nest — lockers slamming, jocks yelling, cheerleaders laughing. None of it mattered to Eddie. He had his boots up on the hood of his van, cigarette dangling from his lips, pretending not to watch you walk across the lot.

Metalhead. Band tee. Ripped jeans. Spiked bracelet. You looked like you belonged in his world — more than anyone else ever had.

And that’s what made it worse.

Because you were gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that made Eddie’s throat go dry and his brain shut off. He could handle monsters, bullies, even the principal. But you?

No chance.

You spotted him before he could look away, lifting a hand to wave. A real wave — warm, friendly, like you were happy to see him.

Eddie’s heart damn near stopped.

“Hey, Munson,” you called, smiling as you approached. “You coming to lunch or hiding from humanity again?”

He pushed his curls back, trying to look casual and absolutely failing. “I, uh… thought I’d spare everyone the horror of my company.”

You snorted, stepping closer. “Yeah, okay. Because you’re the scary one here.”

Eddie stared — really stared — because you were close enough now that he could see the tiny silver ring in your eyebrow, the smudge of black eyeliner at the corner of your eye, the way your band tee hung off one shoulder.

You were his type. Completely, devastatingly his type.

And he had absolutely no idea why you wasted a single word on him.

He cleared his throat, looking away before he combusted. “You know, you don’t have to talk to me just because we both like Metallica,” he muttered. “You’ve probably got… cooler people to sit with.”

You blinked, confused — then you laughed softly, like you couldn’t believe he meant it.

“Eddie,” you said, stepping even closer, “I’m literally asking you to come sit with me.”

He nearly short-circuited.

You reached out, brushing a curl away from his face without thinking. The lightest touch. The softest smile.

And Eddie Munson — loud, dramatic, impossible Eddie — went completely still.

Like no one had touched him gently in years.

“Come on,” you murmured, eyes warm. “Sit with me.”

Eddie swallowed hard, trying to play it cool even though his hands were shaking.

“…Yeah. Okay. If you want.”

He followed you, still convinced you had no idea you were out of his league.

Still convinced that someone like you—beautiful, bold, and effortlessly cool—couldn’t possibly mean any of this.

But the way you kept glancing back at him with that soft little smile…

It made him wonder.

Just a little.