The late afternoon sun poured molten gold over the cracked pavement of the Hawkins High parking lot, heat shimmering off the asphalt in lazy waves. The blue Camaro gleamed like it owned the place—because, in a way, it did.

Leaning against it was Billy Hargrove, jaw tight, cigarette burning between his fingers untouched.

Across from him, arms crossed over his polo like he was bracing for impact, stood Steve Harrington.

Billy dragged a hand through his sun-bleached hair, frustration radiating off him in sharp, restless waves.

“I’m tellin’ you, man,” he muttered, flicking ash to the pavement. “She’s always tired around me. Like, every time we’re together? She’s yawning. Falling asleep on my shoulder. On my chest.” His voice dropped, irritation twisting with something softer he didn’t want to name. “It’s like I bore her.”

Steve stared at him for a long second.

Then he huffed out a disbelieving laugh.

“You cannot be serious.”

Billy’s eyes snapped to him, sharp and defensive. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Steve said slowly, stepping closer, “that you’re an idiot.”

Billy bristled. “Watch it, Harrington.”

“No, you watch it,” Steve shot back, jabbing a finger toward him. “A sleepy woman in your presence isn’t bored, dude. She feels safe around you.”

The words hit harder than Billy expected.

He scoffed automatically. “Safe? With me?”

“Yeah. With you.” Steve’s tone softened, losing the bite. “You know how her home life is. She’s always on edge. Always listening for the next door slam. The next fight. She’s wired tight twenty-four seven.”

Billy’s jaw flexed.

He knew that.

He’d seen it—the way your shoulders tensed at sudden noises. The way you scanned rooms automatically, like you were mapping exits. The way your smile sometimes didn’t quite reach your eyes unless you were with him.

Steve continued, gentler now. “Around you, she doesn’t have to do that. She doesn’t have to be braced for impact. Her nervous system finally gets to power down.”

Billy swallowed, gaze drifting past Steve to nowhere in particular.

He thought about last night.

You curled against him in the backseat at the quarry, warm and soft and trusting. The way your breathing had slowed, your fingers fisting lazily in his shirt before going slack when sleep took you. The tiny sigh you made when he brushed hair from your face.

You hadn’t looked bored.

You’d looked… peaceful.

“She falls asleep because she knows you’ve got her,” Steve added quietly. “Because she doesn’t have to stay alert. That’s not boredom, man. That’s her body finally feeling safe enough to rest.”

Billy let out a slow breath, the fight draining from his posture.

He’d been seeing it wrong.

All those times you dozed off with your head on his chest while his fingers traced idle patterns on your back. All those times you mumbled sleepy protests when he tried to move you, clinging tighter instead.

You weren’t checking out.

You were letting go.

And you only ever did that with him.

Steve clapped him on the shoulder. “Trust me. If she was bored, she wouldn’t be glued to you every chance she gets.”

Billy huffed a quiet laugh despite himself.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “She does that.”

“Exactly.”

Silence settled between them, heavy but no longer tense.

Billy flicked the cigarette away, crushing it under his boot. His chest felt tight—but not in the angry way from before. In a different way. A protective way. A careful way.

Because if you felt safe with him…

If he was the one place your body could finally rest…

Then he’d be damned before he ever let that change.