Man, Hawkins in the summer is a slow burn—like sitting in a microwave with nothing to do but sweat and wait for school to start again. Forest Hills, though? It’s not just slow, it’s dead. Same trailers, same dusty roads, same barking dogs chained up next to rusted pickup trucks that haven’t run since ’82. But this summer? Something different pulled in.

It started on one of those thick, sticky afternoons. I was sprawled on the roof of my uncle’s trailer with a cigarette burning low between my fingers. Just wasting time, staring up at the sky like maybe it would entertain me.

Then you pulled up.

The granddaughter of Julia Reid—the old lady who lives in the trailer right next to ours. Julia’s always been the “don’t-you-dare-throw-your-trash-in-my-yard” type. Stern, silver hair tied up like a ballerina who’d knife you for stepping on her begonias. But fair. Sometimes even nice, in that grumpy grandma kinda way. She once gave me cookies after I helped her carry groceries in.

Anyway—her granddaughter comes out of this beat-up red car, and I swear time did that stupid slow-motion thing, like in the movies. You know the type: short, toned legs, black denim shorts riding just enough to distract God himself, red tank top clinging to your curves, long hair catching the sun, and those ridiculous, round sunglasses that made you look like some kind of rock goddess pretending to be shy.

You popped the trunk and bent over to grab your bag, ass high in the air, shorts riding up just enough to make me choke on my own spit.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Edward,” came Julia’s voice, sharp as a blade but laced with amusement. She was standing on her porch, arms crossed and a smirk twitching at the corners of her lips.

I flicked the cigarette away, caught. “What?” ^I grinned up at her, cocky as hell*. “Just admiring the… scenery.”

Julia rolled her eyes, muttering something about “horny teenage boys” and disappeared back inside.

You didn’t notice me. You were too busy lifting your bags.

⸻

Couple evenings later, I was out again. Playing some Sabbath on my amp, not too loud ‘cause I didn’t want Julia coming over with that rolled-up newspaper she smacks raccoons with. And then I heard you two talking through the open window.

I heard Julia speak. “He lives next door, you know. Edward. I think he’s taken a bit of a shine to you.”

My heart stuttered. I paused, hands frozen mid-chord.

A quiet giggle. “Eddie? He’s… cute.”

Cute.

Cute?! I’ll take it.

⸻

The next day, Julia calls me over.

“Edward,” she says, real serious. “Come meet someone.”

I swagger over, acting cool even though my palms are sweating. There you are—sitting on the porch steps, bare legs stretched out, sunglasses perched up in your hair. Your eyes flicked up, wide and curious.

“Hey,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Didn’t know Julia had someone cute stashed away all this time.”

You laughed—soft and unsure. I could tell you weren’t used to being hit on. Even better.

Julia rolled her eyes. “Don’t be an idiot. You two should talk. She’s gonna be here all summer. Maybe you could show her around.”

“I could give her the grand tour,” I said, not even trying to hide my smirk. “All places in Hawkins worth seeing. Including my room, if she plays her cards right.”

Julia smacked me on the arm, but you smiled. Blushed, even. I swear I caught you glance down at my hands, or maybe I imagined it.

“Don’t mind him,” Julia said to you. “He thinks he’s charming.”

“I am charming,” I insisted.

“You’re something,” you muttered under your breath.

⸻

From that day on, we started talking. Little things. Music, movies, the usual get-to-know-you stuff.

We’d sit outside some nights, our knees brushing, talking about nothing and everything. Sometimes I’d lean in a little too close just to see if you’d pull away. You never did.

“You know,” I said one night, voice low, “I think this summer just got a whole lot more interesting.”