The bell above the Scoops Ahoy door jingles, sharp and cheery in a way that feels like it’s mocking him.

Steve Harrington leans both elbows on the counter, chin in his hands, blue-and-white sailor cap tilted back just enough to show the full depth of his misery. Robin is behind him, pretending to wipe an already spotless counter, watching him with thinly veiled amusement.

“You really think I can get a date?” Steve asks, eyes flicking toward the mall corridor like it might magically produce a miracle.

Robin snorts. “Steve, I’ve been watching you fail all week. Face it. You peaked in high school.”

He straightens instantly, wounded pride flaring. “That is not true.”

“Oh? Because from where I’m standing, King Steve traded a crown for a scoop and zero phone numbers.”

Steve exhales through his nose, jaw tightening. “Fine. Next girl that walks in. I’ll ask her out.”

Robin’s grin is immediate and dangerous. “You’re on, Harrington.”

The universe, cruel and deeply entertained, answers instantly.

The bell jingles again.

Steve turns—already pasting on his best smile—and then freezes.

Walking in are Mike, Lucas, Will, Max… and right in front of them, You.

Dustin’s older sister.

Of course.

She’s shorter than Steve by a good margin, maybe five-two, with long brown hair that falls loose around her shoulders. A septum ring glints under the fluorescent lights, matched by snake bite piercings at the corners of her mouth. She’s wearing a tank top that shows off a couple of tattoos curling along her arms and disappearing down her sides, and her expression—oh, her expression—goes slow and delighted as her eyes land on him.

Specifically, on the uniform.

She stops dead in her tracks.

The kids fan out behind her, arguing about flavors, but she doesn’t move. Her head tilts slightly. A smile spreads, lazy and sharp.

Steve feels his soul leave his body.

Robin chokes on a laugh behind him.

“Well,” You say, folding your arms. “This is new.”

Steve clears his throat. “Hey, Henderson.”

Her eyes drag from his striped sleeves to the ridiculous little neckerchief to the sailor hat. “So,” she continues sweetly, “did you lose a bet, or is this your dream job?”

Robin makes a strangled sound and turns away, shoulders shaking.

Steve shoots her a glare before looking back at you. “It’s a uniform.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, stepping closer to the counter. “I just didn’t realize scooping ice cream required you to look like you’re about to scrub a deck.”

Mike groans. “Please don’t encourage her.”

She doesn’t even look at him. “I mean, Dustin never mentioned his babysitter joined the navy.”

Steve rubs a hand over his face, then drops it, forcing himself to meet her eyes. “You done?”

She leans in, elbows on the counter now, close enough that Steve can smell her perfume—something warm, not sweet. “Almost,” she says. “I just want to know if you salute customers or if that costs extra.”

Robin loses it completely.

Steve exhales, helpless smile tugging at his mouth despite himself. “What can I get you?”

Your grin softens, just a little. “Surprise me, sailor.”

From behind him, Robin stage-whispers, “Ask her out.”

Steve’s ears burn.

And somehow, as you watches him with bright, teasing eyes, he starts to wonder if maybe—just maybe—his luck hasn’t completely run out after all.