Music thumped through the walls of the Hagan house, bass vibrating the floorboards while the smell of cheap beer and chlorine from the backyard pool hung heavy in the air. Tommy Hagan was throwing one of his usual loud, overcrowded parties, and half of Hawkins seemed crammed inside.

Red solo cups. Cigarette smoke drifting out open windows. Someone yelling over the stereo.

Typical Friday night.

Near the kitchen doorway, leaning against the wall like he owned the place, stood Billy Hargrove. Denim jacket, arms crossed, jaw tight enough to crack teeth. Most people at the party knew better than to bump into him, the crowd naturally parting around him like he was some kind of storm cloud no one wanted to get caught under.

Because Billy wasn’t here for the party.

He was here for one person.

Across the room stood Jason Carver, basketball golden boy, surrounded by a few of his teammates like they were his personal audience. Jason was mid-story, laughing about something loud enough for half the room to hear.

Billy didn’t laugh.

Instead, he pushed off the wall and started toward him.

Each step slow. Deliberate.

People noticed.

The tension spread through the room like static electricity. Conversations quieted. Someone turned down the music just a notch.

Jason noticed Billy approaching and smirked, tilting his head slightly as if he’d already decided this whole thing was amusing.

Billy stopped a few feet away from him, close enough that Jason had to look him in the eye.

“The next time you lose your cool with her,” Billy said calmly, voice low but carrying enough edge to cut through the noise of the room, “I suggest you find a different approach.”

The room went very, very quiet around them.

Jason blinked once, clearly not expecting that opener, but his cocky grin came back fast. Arrogance practically radiated off him as he leaned back against the counter.

“Oh yeah?” Jason said, that smug tilt still in his voice. “Why’s that?”

Billy didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

But the look in his eyes?

God.

There was something dark there. Something dangerous. The kind of look that made people rethink their life choices real quick.

“Because if you don’t,” Billy replied, voice still steady, “it’s gonna put me and you in a position where things will definitely go south.”

A beat of silence followed.

Billy hadn’t raised his voice.

Hadn’t made a big show of it.

But everyone in the room understood exactly what he meant.

Jason chuckled under his breath, pushing himself upright off the counter as if he wasn’t impressed.

“Man, you’re real worked up over this,” he said. “All because her freak brother plays Dungeons and Dragons with the Hellfire losers?”

At the mention of Dustin Henderson, Billy’s jaw flexed.

Just barely.

“You grab her again,” Billy said quietly, leaning in just enough that only Jason and the people closest could hear the final words, “and we’ll see how funny you think it is.”

Jason held his gaze.

For a second.

Two.

The cocky smirk on his face wavered slightly. Not gone—but not quite as solid as before.

Because Billy wasn’t bluffing.

Everyone there could see it.

And Billy didn’t need to say another word.

He straightened, rolled his shoulders once, and held Jason’s stare like a promise hanging in the air between them.

One wrong move.

That’s all it would take.