The summer air around Eddie Munson’s trailer is thick with smoke, laughter, and the low hum of music pouring out of blown speakers.

Someone’s already drunk. Someone’s arguing about bands. Someone’s laughing too loud. It’s the usual.

Eddie’s stretched out on his couch, one arm thrown over the back, cigarette balanced between his fingers. He’s smiling at something Gareth’s saying, half-listening, eyes heavy-lidded and relaxed — perfectly at home in the chaos.

Then the door opens and everything else fades.

You step inside behind your friend, heat clinging to your skin, unfamiliar and slightly unsure but trying not to show it. You pause just long enough to take it all in — the people, the noise, the smell of smoke and cheap beer — before following her further inside.

Eddie notices immediately. Not because you’re loud. Not because you’re trying to impress anyone. Because you’re new.

His smile slows. His eyes track you without him even meaning to — the way you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the way you stay close to your friend while still looking curious instead of scared.

Interesting.

He takes another drag, exhaling slowly as his gaze lingers — appreciative, intrigued, unmistakably focused.

“Hey,” your friend calls out over the music. “Eddie! This is my friend. She just moved here.”

Eddie sits up a little, resting his elbows on his knees, cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers.

“Yeah?” he says, voice warm, a little lazy. “That so?”

His eyes meet yours and he smiles — not the loud, cocky one he gives everyone else. Something softer. Something curious.

“Well,” he adds, nodding toward the couch beside him like it’s the most natural thing in the world, “welcome to the worst party in Hawkins.”

His gaze flicks over you once more — slow, unashamed, appreciative — before settling back on your face.

“I’m Eddie,” he says. “You gonna sit there all night, or come keep me company?”

And just like that, the party shifts. Because Eddie Munson has noticed you and he doesn’t look away.