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At least Lucas hadn’t had to convince his parents that he would be perfectly fine staying home by himself (Finally! At eighteen!) while they had both gone to see Erika perform with the Hawkins Middle School Chorus in Indianapolis. That gave him plenty of time to enact and carry out Masterplan: Win Max Back 12.0. He’d pulled enough odd jobs, gotten a cookbook out from the library, stashed his ingredients in the back of the fridge under the pretense of a science project, picked out his nicest outfit...now all he had to do was figure out was how to get Max to come over for dinner. In the pouring rain. When she hadn’t spoken to him for three days.
“Hey, Max, wanna hang out?... No… Hey, just calling to make sure you’re okay… No…”
His reverie was interrupted by a rap at his window. “Let me in already!” was clearly audible through the glass.
“Max?” He asked even as he slid the pane up. “You’re soaking wet.”
“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.” She brushed past him, kicking off her rainboots and dropping her umbrella. “The wind wasn’t as bad when I left.” She turned and glared daggers at him. “Why were you lying on your bed? Talking to yourself? While wearing your best shirt and a blazer?”
“I, uh, erm--” He stammered as each phrase cut off his latest excuse before gathering himself. “Hey, being cool is a full-time occupation.”
The ghost of a smile haunted the corners of Max’s lips. “Whatever, loser. Anyway, lucky for me, I brought a change of clothes.”
“Why would you?..” He threw up his hands in despair as she left without another word. “Girls,” he muttered, picking up her discarded wet things and stacking them on a towel.
It was that moment that every light in the Sinclair house went dark.
Lucas yelped. And was pretty sure he heard an echoing shout from the bathroom. “Max?” He called, sprinting towards her; what if..? “You okay?” Only rapid breathing answered him. “Max?” he repeated, testing the doorknob.
A higher-pitched scream and a sodden piece of fabric came flying at his face. “Jesus, Lucas, I’m not decent!” she shouted, a fact which the half-glimpse of moon-catching freckled skin confirmed.
“Sorry, sorry!” he called back, immediately shutting his eyes and turning around to slump against the wall. “I thought…” He paused to inhale, heart and breathing still racing. “I thought maybe it was something from the Upside Down.”
A long silence, then: “Yeah, so did I. I, uh, kind of froze up. Sorry I threw my shirt at you.”
A nervous giggle escaped Lucas’s lips. “Hey, not your fault every time the lights go out some kind of hellish monster tries to kill us.”
“Not helping, Sinclair.”
“I’ll, uh, go find some candles, and, uh,” the reworking of an idea sprang to his mind, “are you hungry? The stove’s gas, so it should still work.”
“God, I could murder a grilled cheese and a bowl of soup.” Okay, Lucas thought. Murder bad; rapturous tone good. She continued, voice a little softer. “Great idea. I’ll, uh, be out in a couple minutes.”
“Okay,” Lucas replied, letting out a long-held breath. “Okay.”
Ten minutes later, the sandwiches had been flipped on the griddle and a can of soup was nearly hot. Not what I had in mind, Lucas mused, but what the lady wants, the lady gets. And hey, serving it by candlelight… He peeked at the bottom of the grilled cheese. “Nearly done,” he announced as bare feet padded up behind him. “Sorry, we were out of tomato, so I hope clam chowder is okay--wow!” He gaped as he turned to see Max wearing a gorgeous dress in a vibrant green that set off her hair and brought out her eyes. “You, uh, look really nice.”
“You’re such a dumbass,” Max laughed approvingly, and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for checking on me. Speaking of which…” she tilted her head towards the sandwiches, now starting to steam.
“Right! Yes. Dinner.” Christ, pull it together, he thought as he served the food. Max laughed as he sat across the corner of the table from her. “What?”
“It’s just…” She waved her hand in a circle at the tableau. “It looks like we’re a couple of kids pretending to be adults.”
“To be fair, we have a lot of practice with that.”
Max laughed again and they ate in silence again, six mismatched candles flickering between them. “I forgot how nice this was.”
“Soup?”
“Don’t make me say it, loser,” Max snorted, rolling her eyes. “I like spending time with you. It’s just, you know, sometimes you’ll be an idiot, and I’ll be hot-tempered, and, well…” Her voice trailed off; she took a mouthful of soup. “I’m sorry.” Then: “Hey, this is pretty nice for a first date, huh?”
“Like you said, we have a lot of practice with that.” His hand found hers across the table. “I, uh, missed you too. Was going to cook something nice and everything, but…”
“It’s fine, honestly.” Max gave his hand a squeeze. “So, um, your family’s still out of town until tomorrow, right?” Lucas nodded; she leaned over to whisper in his ear. “I don’t usually put out on a first date, but for you, I’d make an exception.”
“I, um.” While this was not how he had planned their evening to go, he couldn’t deny that: a) Max looked incredible in her dress, and b) their reunion sex was mindblowingly good. “I’m flattered.” She grinned and tugged him toward his bedroom.
***
The soup and sandwiches were surprisingly good reheated, as it happened.