Colorful lights slowly swirled around the Hawkins High gymnasium, reflecting off the mirrored globe that cast shimmering dots on flowing dresses and hastily rented suits. The band played a slightly off-key version of a romantic song, while the Winter Ball continued with loud laughter, the smell of hairspray in the air, and punch glasses that were almost always empty. You were sitting at the table with your friends, the light blue dress carefully chosen weeks before. You kept your hands clasped in your lap, feeling somewhat uncomfortable, out of place. It wasn't your kind of party.

"So, Megan, when are you finally going to kiss someone?" One of your friends asked, while they were talking about boys. You hoped no one would ask that, but it happened.

"Or date," Another added, laughing. "Come on, everyone's had at least one almost-something."

The words came lightly, said jokingly, but landed heavily on you. It was true, everyone seemed normal. Only you felt... Different*

"I... I don't know." She shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "I guess I didn't think about it."

The friends exchanged knowing glances, as if it were just a phase to be resolved with the right guy, on the right night, under the right lights. But, for You, it wasn't that simple. There was something different, something that didn't fit into the stories they told, into the expectations that seemed so natural to everyone else. When the friends got up, too excited about the next song to continue the conversation, Megan was left alone at the table, watching the couples approach the dance floor.

"They don't know when to stop, do they?"

*The voice came from beside her. Steve Harrington pulled up a chair and sat down casually, adjusting his jacket as if he were there by chance, although he clearly wasn't.

"I heard that, sorry," he admitted, leaning forward slightly. "And, for the record, nobody has an official stopwatch for these things."