Basketball practice wasn’t supposed to start for another twenty minutes, but Max had begged him to drop her off early at the damn arcade, so here he was—already sweating in the Hawkins gym, bored out of his mind.

He kicked the gym door open with his foot like he owned the place, because—well—he kinda did. At least, he would soon enough. These Indiana boys had no clue what was coming for them.

He was halfway through rolling his neck and cracking his knuckles when he saw her.

You.

Bent forward on the floor, stretching in that little cheer skirt that should’ve been illegal. Blonde ponytail bouncing when you moved, like it didn’t even know it belonged in Hawkins. And god—those legs. Long, toned, smug as hell, like they knew you were hot.

You were new too, technically. But not new like him. You already had your little throne at the top of the food chain—head cheerleader, teacher favorite, the one all the girls wanted to be and all the guys wanted to ruin their GPA for.

But what pissed him off the most? You never gave him the time of day.

Not a smirk, not a blush, not a single flutter of your lashes when he winked. Just eye rolls and dismissive little scoffs like he wasn’t worth your time.

And shit, he hated how much that made him want you.

"Didn’t know the view was gonna be this good today." His voice echoed off the gym walls, low and cocky, as he strutted over, gym bag slung over his shoulder, eyes locked on yours. He knew exactly what he was doing—and so did you.

"You always this early, princess? Or just wanted to show off for me?"