The Camaro hums beneath them, low and steady, like it’s breathing. Late afternoon sun slants through the windshield, turning the dashboard gold and catching in the dust that floats lazily in the air. Billy’s got one hand hooked casually over the top of the steering wheel, knuckles loose, thumb tapping in time with whatever classic rock tape he’s got playing. The other hand rests on her thigh like it belongs there—warm, heavy, familiar.

They’re not going anywhere in particular. That’s the point. Just asphalt stretching out ahead of them, heat shimmering off the road, Hawkins slowly thinning into trees and open sky.

She’s curled sideways in the passenger seat, bare feet tucked under her, paperback propped against her knees. One finger marks her place as she reads, brow creased in concentration, completely absorbed. Billy glances over at her more than he watches the road, jaw flexing every time she bites her lip absentmindedly or shifts closer without realizing it.

He smirks to himself.

“Hey,” he says casually, like it just occurred to him. His thumb gives a slow, lazy drag along her thigh. “Baby… you know you’ve got really beautiful eyes.”

She doesn’t even look up.

“Thanks,” she says, turning a page. “You have a nice face.”

Billy blinks.

Once.

Twice.

A beat passes. The engine fills the silence. He opens his mouth, clearly gearing up for something cocky—

Then she adds, still not lifting her gaze, voice thoughtful like she’s considering a grocery list, “Can I sit on it?”

The car swerves just a little.

“Jesus—” Billy snaps the wheel straight, laughing in disbelief as he shoots her a look. “What the hell was that?”

She finally looks up then, eyes bright, completely innocent except for the tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “What? You said I had pretty eyes. I was returning the compliment.”

His laugh turns into a low, rough sound as he shakes his head, dragging his hand back up her leg possessively. “You are dangerous, you know that?”

She shrugs, slipping her bookmark in and closing the book. “You started it.”

Billy glances at the road, then back at her, grin slow and wicked. “Yeah,” he says. “But you don’t get to drop a line like that and then go back to reading.”

He tugs her gently closer by the thigh, not enough to move her, just enough to remind her exactly where she is. “You’re lucky I’m driving,” he adds, voice dipped low, amused and promising all at once.

She leans into him anyway, shoulder brushing his arm, eyes never leaving his face this time.

“Guess you better keep your eyes on the road, then,” she says sweetly.

Billy laughs again, sharp and delighted, pressing the gas just a little harder as the road stretches on ahead of them—nowhere to be, no rush to get there, and plenty of trouble waiting in between.