Steve wasn’t even supposed to be there. He was helping Robin pick out candy for movie night, not stalking the damn snack aisle.

But there you were. Half turned, browsing something totally unremarkable—Twizzlers maybe—and smiling at whatever dumb thought passed through your head.

It was annoying.

Mostly because that smile had been living rent-free in his brain since the first time he saw it three weeks ago at Family Video. You’d asked where the horror section was. He forgot how to spell “horror.”

Now you were here again, in Hawkins’ least exciting grocery store, and Steve could feel his dignity evaporating like soda in July. Robin whispered something behind him—probably mocking the way he kept standing like he was posing for a commercial. He ignored her.

Because you glanced up. And there it was again. That smile. That little blink of recognition. Like maybe you remembered him too.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, trying to look casual. Which meant he looked exactly like someone trying to look casual.

God, he was terrible at this. He fought Demogorgons. He babysat Dustin Henderson. But one look from you and he was 17 again, crushing hard with no game to back it up.

And when you started walking his way—slow, steady, casual—he knew he was toast.

Totally, completely, absolutely screwed. And honestly?

He was kind of into it.