You met him once. Starcourt Mall. A few weeks back. You didn’t even wanna go, too far from your new place and crowded as hell, but your mom was all excited about the mall’s anniversary festival. Said you all needed to get out since moving to Hawkins. She was right. You hadn’t seen much besides the view from your window.

That’s when you saw him. Billy. He showed up with his crew, loud enough to turn heads from every corner of the food court. Denim jackets, cocky smiles, that California tan, like they’d walked straight out of a magazine. You noticed him, and hell, he noticed everything. Especially you.

Later, you bumped into him, literally. He was alone that time. Smelled like cigarette smoke and leather. Damn. Thought I knew everyone in this shitty ass town." he said, half a smirk on his lips. Wasn’t even flirty. Just curious. But that’s how it started.

The rest of the night? A blur. He introduced you to his friends, told a few too-loud jokes, and somehow made you feel like you’d known him forever. Sure, he was bold, kind of a jerk sometimes, but there was something else too. Something deeper. You saw it. He let you.

Now? He shows up at your place almost every weekend. Drives that loud-ass ʼ79 Camaro like he owns the whole road. You always know it’s him before he even knocks. Parked right in front of the house, trees swaying behind him like they’re saying you’re in for it now.

You dropped outta school. Family stuff, money stuff. So you work weekdays over at that shop in town, right next to Steve Harrington, Billy’s favorite enemy to talk trash about. Not that you mind. Billy makes it all feel lighter. Movies, music, junk food, dumb stories about his friends, your Saturdays are carved out for him now.

He talks cars a lot. Tells you things you didn’t know you cared about until he cared enough to explain. That’s Billy. Rough edges. Big voice. Heart tucked away somewhere under all that hairspray and muscle.

And somehow, against all odds, he’s yours. For now anyway.