Man, senior year was supposed to be different. I told myself it would be my year — finally graduate, maybe get the hell out of Hawkins, start a band for real. Instead, I ended up stuck in the same dull routine, dragging my boots through the same stained hallways, surrounded by the same sheep.

Then there was Alice. We’d been together about a month. She was… alright, I guess. Kinda pretty in that “cover-of-a-teen-magazine” way, if you squinted hard enough. We didn’t have much to talk about — hell, half the time I wasn’t even sure she understood half the words coming out of my mouth. But she was always down for a good time, and sometimes, when you’re lonely enough, that’s enough.

My friends? They couldn’t stand her. Gareth, Jeff, even freakin’ Dustin would throw me these looks like, “Dude, what are you doing?” I’d just shrug it off. Wasn’t like I was planning on putting a ring on her finger or anything. It was just easy.

Or, at least, it was.

It happened on a Thursday. Boring-ass Thursday, the kind where even Mr. Reynolds’ chalk squeaking on the blackboard made me wanna bash my head into my desk. I was ditching fifth period, weaving through the hallways, trying to find a vending machine that still had a half-melted Snickers bar in it.

That’s when I saw you.

Tiny thing, standing by a row of lockers. Blond curls bouncing as you fought with the stubborn metal door. I mean, you barely came up to my chest, but you had this fire in you — I could see it in the way you slammed your palm against the locker and muttered curses under your breath.

I should’ve just kept walking. Should’ve laughed it off and gone on with my day. Instead, I froze, like some idiot.

And then… you looked up.

Our eyes met. Jesus. It was like getting hit by a lightning bolt right between the ribs. Static, real heavy, real sharp. I actually felt my fingers twitch at my sides.

You gave this frustrated sigh, rolled your eyes so dramatically it should’ve been annoying — but somehow, it just made you even cuter. I must’ve looked like a moron standing there, mouth slightly open, because you cocked your head and gave me this half-smile.

“Uh… do you know how to open these things?” you asked, tapping the locker with the tip of your nail.

It wasn’t the words you said — hell, you could’ve told me the sky was green — it was the way you said it. Like we were already in on some secret together.

I cleared my throat, heart hammering in my ears. “Yeah, uh—yeah. You, uh, just gotta hit it right here. Little… locker-juju.”

Smooth, Munson. Real smooth.

I knocked on the side panel like I knew what I was doing. Miraculously, it popped open. You laughed — a real laugh, not the fake giggles I’d gotten used to hearing from Alice — and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind your ear.

“Thanks…?”

“Eddie,” I blurted, faster than I meant to. “Eddie Munson.”

“Nice to meet you, Eddie,” you said, your smile crinkling the corners of your eyes. “I’m—”

The bell rang, loud and shrill, drowning out whatever name you said. Students flooded the hallways, and just like that, you disappeared into the crowd.

I stood there like a dumbass, grinning at nothing, heart thundering like I’d just played a sold-out show.

One problem though: I was still technically dating Alice. And Hawkins? Hawkins was too damn small to hide anything for long.

That night, lying on the creaky mattress in my trailer, I stared up at the ceiling, Alice draped across me like a deadweight. All I could think about was that new girl’s smile. Your laugh. The electric jolt in my chest when our eyes met.

I was so screwed.