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“Steve. Steve!” You had been saying his name for the entirety of the last song and, despite the fact that he was less than 10 feet away from you, he hadn’t even glanced in your direction. You weren’t sure whether to blame it on the speakers or the booze.
“ Harrington! ” You finally pushed your way through the small crowd, tugging on his hair, until his attention was at last on you.
“Hey!” He wrapped you in a hug once the glassiness in his eyes gave way to recognition. “Everything okay?”
“If Nancy spilling an entire wine cooler down the front of her dress is ‘okay' to you, then yeah everything is totally rad.” You tried to keep the bitterness out of your tone, you really did, but somehow it crept in anyways.
“Nancy’s here?” It was a wonder he didn’t know the second she walked in. They had broken up months ago and it was like she was still the center of his universe - even when he was screwing everything that walked and complaining to you about his lack of a relationship afterwards. “Where?”
His head swiveled around, scanning the throng of your friends and whoever else had shown up, until he caught a glimpse of her in the kitchen.
“I don’t even know why she’s here,” you muttered, though he either didn’t hear you or opted to ignore you, instead making his way towards her. You followed, begrudgingly, and hoped he wouldn’t do anything too stupid.
You watched the floor as you walked, determined not to have another incident like last weekend - which involved cheap beer and a pair of skimpy underwear - and didn’t notice Steve had come to a halt until you smacked into the broad expanse of his back.
“What the f- oh .” You peered around him to see what had him so tripped up, and were both surprised and disgusted to see Nancy practically wrapped around Jonathan, the two of them pressed against Steve’s kitchen counter.
You scoffed at the sight because, really, who goes to a party at their ex’s house just to hook up with the guy you dumped him for? It was just another reason for your bitterness towards the girl - a list filled with disgustingly petty revelations that spoke more on yourself than her, if you thought about it too long.
“C’mon, Harrington, let’s get another drink.” You pulled on the hem of his t-shirt, finally getting him to turn towards you, though his eyes lingered in the opposite direction for just a moment longer.
“But all the -”
“A good drink, Steve.” The corner of his mouth ticked up at your suggestion, and seeing Nancy must have really struck him to the core if he wasn’t even going to pretend to argue with you about raiding his dad’s expensive liquor.
As platonically as you could manage, you linked your fingers with his and coaxed him towards the basement door. To your surprise, no one even glanced in your direction as the two of you made your way back through the crowd, and the beat of Duran Duran quieted as the door clicked shut behind Steve
He padded across the carpeted floor towards the liquor cabinet, and the smile he gave you when he picked the old lock was the first time he truly felt like your best friend again since the night he got with Nancy.
And you really needed to stop thinking about her.
He flopped down on the couch beside you, a half full bottle of rum in his hand, and took a swig before passing it over. The burn was welcome, much better than the warm beer you had been drinking upstairs, and soon enough you were coaxing the last drops from the dregs of the bottle.
“I hope my dad won’t miss this one.” Steve said, feet hung over the back over the couch, his hair grazing the floor. You hoped he wouldn’t barf once he sat upright again, because you knew you would be the one cleaning him up.
“You took this one from the back, right?” He nodded. “I bet you a movie rental that he doesn’t notice for at least a month. Just invite Tommy over before then and you can blame it on him.”
Steve laughed, even though you were right, and shifted on the couch so his head rested in your lap. As if on instinct, you carded your fingers through the long strands, mussing it up even more than the sweat and dancing from the hours before. You looked down at his face to see a content smile there, before a pinch of disappointment appeared between his eyebrows and the look in his eyes as he opened them was no longer carefree, but forlorn.
“Why would she even come?” His voice was barely a whisper, and if you hadn’t been mere inches from his face, you were sure you wouldn’t have even heard it. “Do you think she just wants to rub it in? Her and Jonathan?”
“Steve, honey,” you sighed, bringing your thumb down to his forehead to smooth the worry lines between his eyes. “ You were the one who wanted to ‘try being friends’ after she broke up with you.”
“It was mutual,” he insisted.
“Right. You were the one who insisted on trying to be friends after your mutual breakup , and I think her coming was her trying to do that. But we all make stupid decisions when we’re drunk and around someone we love. I don’t think she was trying to hurt you.”
It was surprising how much clearer your drunk mind was, that you could admit to yourself that you didn’t dislike Nancy as much as you told yourself you did, and that she really wasn’t a bad person at all. She had just hurt your best friend - the one you had been telling yourself for at least a decade that you weren’t in love with - and it wasn’t even intentional. Suddenly, every scoff and eyeroll seemed stupid, and you felt like a raging bitch.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” His eyes closed again, your fingers still gently combing through his hair.
“Don’t you know I’m always right, Stevie?” You tried to come off as joking, but your voice cracked, the alcohol in your system breaking down a dam of emotions you tried desperately to keep at bay. Hearing the waiver in your words, his peaked one eye open, and it suddenly registered how close you were to him, bent over his head, so close that if he leaned up just a few scant inches, your lips would be pressed together.
His hand searched out yours - the one that wasn’t playing with his hair - and intertwined your fingers together, squeezing gently; an unspoken are you okay?
You nodded and then suddenly the basement door cracked open. You both stilled, waiting for someone to interrupt you, but no one appeared and instead notes of Blondie drifted down the stairs.
“Is this -”
“The song we danced to at the eighth grade talent show? Yes. ”
Suddenly, Steve was on his feet, pulling you with him, and the former melancholic mood was wiped away as he spun you around and around, trying to mimic the moves that didn’t win you any awards when you were 14 and certainly weren’t any better now.
The two of you danced until you were dizzy and giggling, and you had to lean on your best friend to keep from falling down. Once your head stopped swimming, you realized Steve was staring at you, a sparkle in his eye that you had never seen before, not even when he had looked at Nancy.
But that just couldn’t be right. You were the one pining for your best friend for years, not him. Right?
That sliver of hope burned bright as his fingertips traced a gentle pattern over your face; the line of your nose, the curve of your cheekbone, landing on the cushion of your bottom lip. Your mouth parted and before you could make sense of it, his lips were covering yours and it was everything you had ever wanted but never dared hope for.
You had always imagined your first kiss with Steve would come in the middle of a fight, after a confession that you just couldn’t keep in anymore. You always imagined heat and hands and losing your minds in each other, but instead it was soft and sweet and tasted of alcohol, and yet somehow it was still utterly perfect.
He pulled away, just far enough to separate your lips, but instead pressed his forehead to yours, breath a little heavy, mingling with yours.
“I’m -”
“Why -”
You spoke at the same time, both giggling at the overlap of voices, and you gently poked his side, prompting him to talk first.
“I’m not sure why I did that.” You frowned, suddenly terrified that it didn’t mean what you thought it meant. When you tried to pull away, he hooked his fingers in the loop of your jeans, pulling you tight against him. “No, no, that came out wrong. I don’t know why I did that now , when I should have done it a long time ago.
“I’ve always loved you, I think. I just never really knew what it meant. It took Nancy telling me to get a clue before I figured out that the funny feeling I got in my stomach every time you laughed or fell asleep on my shoulder wasn’t platonic. I thought it was just you and that’s why I never felt that way with anyone else.”
“Not even Nancy?” You cursed yourself for asking the question, cringing at the insecurity laced through your voice.
“Not even Nancy,” Steve confirmed.
“But you two broke up months ago. Why did you wait so long to say anything? Why did you -” You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “Why did you go on all those dates and everything?”
“You’re gonna think I’m stupid if I tell you.” You huffed at his answer, shifting your body and stepping on his toes until he yelped and shuffled away. “Fine, fine, just stay off my toes.”
He closed the small gap of space that had crept between you, his hands gentle where they settled at your hips. You let yourself melt into him, your own hands wrapping around his neck and tangling in the soft hair at his nape.
“You’ve been my best friend for longer than I can even remember. We’ve been through everything together. First, I was scared that you would never feel the same way, then when I started thinking you just might, I was terrified of ruining our friendship. I mean, I don’t exactly have a stellar track record when it comes to dating.”
You made a noise - half scoff and half laugh - and he brought a hand up to flick your nose.
“Hey! You wanted to know, and I told you that you would think I’m stupid. Which I am, because if you’ve made it this long without killing me, I think you could probably handle me for the long haul.”
“The long haul?” It was like every moment you had spent secretly pining and drawing Mrs. Harrington in the margins of your diary had led to this moment. “You saying you wanna go steady with me?”
“Go steady? You’ve been reading too many of those Captain Brooklyn comics.”
“It’s Captain America , Steve.”
“Whatever.” He smiled that ridiculous lopsided grin that turned your insides out and you got a sudden jolt of courage, tilting your head up to press your lips to his again and, yeah, it was just as amazing the second time around.
Then the basement door was flung open, and what once was barely a crack gave way to strobe lights and booming bass.
“Harrington!” Someone shouted, followed by the sound of what may have been glass breaking, and Steve pulled away with a sigh.
“Tomorrow night, after you help me clean this mess, I’m taking you for a movie and ice cream. Heard that new place in the mall is really good.”
“What makes you think I’m helping you clean up?”
“Because you're my best friend. And you love me.” He finally stepped away from you, placing a quick kiss on your forehead before turning to the stairs. When he made it to the top, he looked back down at you and gave you a small wink before disappearing into the party.