You didn’t belong here.

The empty metal bleachers of the Hawkins High football field creaked under your sneakers as you made your way to the far end, where the floodlights didn’t quite reach. He was already there — sprawled out on the top row like it was his throne, denim jacket patched and frayed, cigarette hanging from his lips.

Eddie Munson. The guy your coach said to never talk to.

“You’re late, sweetheart,” he drawled, leaning forward on his knees. “Cheerleaders are supposed to be punctual.”

You crossed your arms. “I had practice.”

“Of course you did.” He flicked ash into the grass below, eyes scanning you from the big bow in your hair to the white sneakers still smudged with dirt from the field. “So… what’s a shiny, perfect Hawkins High mascot doing looking for the freak in the dark?”

Your voice dipped, low and quick. “I heard you… could get me something.”

His smirk widened. “Oh, I can get you a lot of things, princess. Question is — what’s the price you’re willing to pay?”

You rolled your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “Just tell me if you have it or not.”

He hopped down from the bleachers, slow and lazy, stopping just close enough for you to smell the smoke and leather. His gaze locked with yours, sharp and knowing.

“Yeah, I’ve got it. But you’re gonna owe me a favor, cheerleader. And I never forget a debt.”