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Eddie peeks his head around the corner, checking that the coast is clear before he slides out into the hallway and strides quickly to his locker. He gets the combination in as quickly as he can, jumping with a little shout when a small hand lands on his back.
“Jesus H. Christ!”
Chrissy Cunningham, so taken aback by his exclamation, shouts a little herself. “Agh! Eddie !”
He places a hand over his racing heart and slumps against the locker next to his. “Scared the shit out of me.”
“Why are you so jumpy?”
Eddie heaves a sigh and shakes his head, resuming his activity. “Oh. Uh, do you know Trish McDonald?”
“Oh yeah, she’s always the star in the musical.”
Eddie nods, shoving things haphazardly in his seen-better-days backpack. “ Well, my fifteen minutes of ill-begotten fame have caught her attention.”
Chrissy furrows her brow, cocking her head. “She’s pretty.”
Eddie huffs. He doesn’t want to get into this conversation with Chrissy like, at all. Ever since they fought monsters and demons and even her mother together, they’ve been inseparable.
He likes being her friend. Needs to be her friend. But he also would really like it if she wanted to kiss him on the mouth as long as they both shall live.
They’re a month away from graduation now, small mercies, and then she’ll be off to Chicago for college. He’s not gonna ruin the last few months he has to bask in her glow with something stupid like his goddamn feelings.
“Sure, she’s pretty. I’m just not interested.”
“So you’re hiding from her?” Chrissy asks curiously. “Just do your mean and scary thing.”
He shoots her a look. “I think she actually likes that.”
Chrissy crinkles her nose. “Oh. Well, I guess some people just don’t know how to take no for an answer. I’m sorry, Eddie.”
He shrugs. He’s had worse than a pretty girl relentlessly pursuing him. He just feels kind of bad about it, is all, and he doesn’t want to hurt Trish’s feelings, but he also just — really doesn’t like her that way.
On paper, he probably should. She’s theatrical and loud. She has kind of a Stevie Nicks witchy thing going on, and an impressive set of pipes. She plays the piano like a pro, and he’s heard her do open mic night at the cafe downtown. She’s pretty excellent.
So, two weird musicians. Should make sense.
Except it doesn’t. He’s developed a taste for cotton candy lip gloss wearing cheerleaders, or one in particular.
“It is what it is.”
“I bet she’d leave you alone if she thought you were with someone else,” Chrissy suggests as they start walking to homeroom together.
Now that he and Chrissy sit next to each other, he actually goes to homeroom. They pass funny notes and she draws him cute little pictures. He loves it. Probably definitely loves her .
“Maybe.”
“She would. It’s girl code.”
Eddie laughs. “Alright, sailor, who exactly should I be asking out then? Other than Trish and her formidable attempts, no one is banging down the trailer door to go out with the formerly accused of murder freak.”
Chrissy glares at him. She doesn’t like when he calls himself a freak, no matter how many times he tells her it’s a good thing in his book.
“Me.”
He comes to a dead stop. Chrissy keeps walking a few steps and then stops, turning to look at him with pink cheeks.
“Uh, Cunningham — what?”
She blinks quickly, her pink glossed lip briefly sucked into her teeth. She leaves little marks in the surface of her gloss and he wants to lick them. But he won’t, because friends don’t do that.
But she just told him to ask her out so he’s a little brain dead, at the moment.
“I mean, I could pretend to be your girlfriend. We spend so much time together anyway. A lot of people already think we’re dating.”
That’s news to him. “They do?! Who thinks that?”
Chrissy flails a hand around vaguely. “Half the cheer team, some of the basketball guys, the guy you sit with in woodshop —”
“Darrell? How do you know Darrell?”
Chrissy rolls her eyes. “Eddie, I know everyone.”
“Right, apologies, my queen.”
“ Eddie.”
He laughs, putting his hands up. “Sorry, sorry. No more queen stuff. Would you uh, actually wanna do that?”
Chrissy nods quickly, brushing her toe on the ground. “Yeah. Plus it would help me, too.”
Eddie frowns. “Carver bothering you?”
“No,” Chrissy says, “he’s still under strict orders from the cops not to talk to any of us. It’s just — well, kind of — everyone?”
She flushes so pink she’s nearly maroon. He laughs and walks to her to gently tweak her ponytail.
“ Everyone?”
“A lot of boys are, um, interested. In taking me to prom and stuff.”
A hot flicker of jealousy sparks in his chest and he tamps it down like he’s stomping out a fire with his biggest boots. He’s always known that anyone who lays eyes on Chrissy must instantly fall at least a little bit in love with her, so he’s always kind of assumed his competition is, well, everyone.
“And you don’t want to go out with these guys?”
“Nope,” she says simply. “I’m not interested in any of them.”
“Right,” Eddie says, opening the door to their classroom. “Cause you’re like, still healing and stuff.”
She shrugs. “Sure, I guess.”
He follows her in and takes his seat next to her. A lot has happened in the last five minutes and his undercaffeinated brain needs a minute to catch up.
Chrissy Cunningham wants to pretend to be his girlfriend.
Huh.
***
It’s incredibly easy to pretend to date Chrissy. They’ve already had a very affectionate friendship, and they have since spring break.
Maybe it’s trauma bonding or whatever, but they spent most of that week in constant physical contact. It’s not uncommon for her to throw her legs in his lap or for him to lay with his head in hers, not unusual for her to peck him on the cheek or for him to drop a casual kiss to her forehead. They got a lot of looks from the rest of the Party at first, but now everyone has kind of gotten used to it.
He collects all those little moments like a magpie, his secret collection of Chrissy Memories tucked away in his brain to visit when he needs them.
So, holding Chrissy’s hand in the hallway is easy. Flirting with each other, calling each other pet names, it’s no big deal.
If it weren’t for the fact that Chrissy has taken to calling him baby and whenever she does, he is — not okay.
“Morning, baby!” Chrissy greets cheerfully. She pops up on her toes and kisses his cheek, ever so close to his mouth.
The Corroded Coffin guys aren’t necessarily used to Chrissy yet, but they see her plenty, so no one comments, even if Jeff’s eyebrows go up at the pet name. Eddie is the nickname guy, but Chrissy has always just called him Eddie.
“Hey pretty girl.”
Chrissy swings a greasy paper bag from behind her back and shakes it in front of him. “I got you a treat.”
He raises his eyebrows. “For what?”
She crinkles her nose up and giggles. “For being my boyfriend.”
Now that gets Jeff and Gareth’s full attention. They are absolutely, positively gawking.
“Holy shit,” Jeff breathes, “he actually did it.”
“Son of a bitch,” Gareth curses. “I owe Grant ten bucks.”
Chrissy blinks in confusion and Eddie tries to quickly get back on task before they out him and his six-year-long crush on Chrissy. As far as they know, she probably knows that now.
And it would be weird to get mad at your friends for telling your girlfriend how much you like her.
So he snatches the bag from her and peaks inside. It’s a chocolate frosted donut with rainbow sprinkles.
“Sweetheart, you know the way to a man’s heart,” he swoons, leaning forward to tuck her hair behind her ear and then kiss her cheek.
She’s pleasantly flushed, eyes shiny with something like happiness. “I thought chocolate was your favorite. I asked if they could make me one with black sprinkles but they looked at me like I was crazy.”
He barks out a delighted laugh and tears a piece off the donut, offering it to her. She eyes it a little cautiously — shit, he still forgets sometimes, that she’s got a tough time with food, it’s not so bad when it’s the two of them but his friends are here.
But then she blows his mind by eating it out of his hand. Her teeth brush his fingers and he thinks he has died, he has fully fuckin’ just — ascended into some astral plane. A little bit of her icy pink lip stuff is on his finger tips.
His friends are gawking even harder, somehow. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t doing the same now.
Her tongue darts out to catch a little sprinkle caught to the corner of her mouth. He’s furiously jealous of the sprinkle.
“Thanks baby,” she says, soft and low.
“Uh huh,” he chokes out.
“I have to talk to Nancy before homeroom, I’ll see you there.”
She tugs him in by his free hand and he follows, loose and easy, and then she brushes another little kiss right by his lips. He thinks he’s kind of panting, now.
He watches her go, in her tight jeans and a lavender t-shirt, a little too big and tied above her waistline.
“Dude,” Gareth says, smacking him on the back of the head. “What the fuck?”
“Sorry, did I not tell you?” Eddie grins. “I’m kinda dating Chrissy Cunningham.”
***
And here’s the kicker — he is dating Chrissy.
Sure, it’s “fake”, technically, but riddle him this — why does Chrissy still call him baby in private? Why does she hold his hand in the van on the way home after school?
If they’re not dating, then why are they literally going on dates, just the two of them, and why is Chrissy cuddling him in the dark of the movie theater, tugging his arm around her shoulders.
He thinks he might be losing his mind a little. Other than the one time Chrissy said pretend, there’s been — absolutely no talk about the fact that this isn’t real.
They’ve been doing this for two blissful weeks, and the school has been buzzing about the latest it couple. They’re walking down the hall together, his arm slung around her shoulders, her tucked into his side, when he hears someone talking about them.
“Kinda weird they never kiss though,” a girl says.
“Yeah, totally.”
Chrissy seems to have heard them too, and when they sit down in class she flicks him a note. It’s folded like a heart but she’s drawn a little black bat on it, to make it more metal.
Yeah, he’s obsessed with her, sue him.
Do you think we should kiss?
Vecna and his hive mind of bats and tentacles didn’t kill him, but Chrissy is going to.
He doesn’t want to be a pig or take advantage, but if she’s asking…
After all, this had all been her idea. He’s just following her lead, and he has been the whole time. It seems to be working, too, since Trish mostly just glares at Chrissy now and only occasionally bats her eyes at him when Chrissy’s not around.
I mean, most couples kiss. If you’re good with it, I’m good with it.
Fuckin’ romantic, dude, way to go.
She opens the note when he sends it back, not folded like anything, just a small square. He glances over and it must be a trick of his eyes but he thinks she might be trembling.
Her eyes skim his answer and her whole face brightens, like she was really hoping his answer would be yes.
She smiles at him, that wide unselfconscious one she seems to mostly shoot his way, and he grins back with a little wink. It makes her blush, which makes him blush.
And then she kicks her foot out to cross her pristine white sneaker over his ratty Reeboks, tangling their ankles.
He is screwed.
***
They’re at the picnic table after school, and Chrissy is sitting on the edge of the table, the shorter side without a bench attached, kicking her feet. He’s pacing around her, like usual, talking about his latest campaign — Chrissy cares about this stuff, asks him questions and remembers everything he tells her. It’s so sweet he could die from it, but then he’d miss her too much, so he does his best to stay alive.
“So, um, do you wanna kiss?” Chrissy asks, out of the goddamn blue.
He makes a show of it, because that’s how he’s most comfortable. He throws himself to the ground with a swoon, which makes her giggle as he straightens up and brushes the leaves off of himself.
“What a proposition, Cunningham.”
She giggles again. “Sorry.”
“No, no, you’re good,” he says quickly. “It’s uh, yeah, I mean, totally could do that.”
She raises her eyebrows. “If you don’t want to..”
“I do!” he practically shouts at her. “Trust me, I really do.”
She blinks, a bit surprised, and that might have been too much. He walks forward and parks himself in front of her, one hand on either side of her hips as he bends at the waist to be eye level with her.
He hears her sharp little intake of breath and she glances down at his lips. He thinks she’s maybe holding her breath, now, actually anticipating his lips touching hers, and he may be on his third shot at senior year but he’s not actually stupid, so he leans in and kisses her.
He tries. Really tries, to make it nice, since he’s never actually done this before. He’s freshly twenty and he’s kissing a girl for the first time, and he doesn’t want her to know that.
Her hands are on his face, cupping his cheeks all soft and gentle as she presses back into him, a little more firm. His hands form fists on the splintery wood of the table.
He pulls away, but she doesn’t actually let him get very far. She kicks her feet out and hooks them around the back of his thighs, tugging him closer until he’s standing between her spread legs.
She beams at him, like kissing him made her that happy, and puts her arms around his shoulders.
“You’re really good at that.”
He scoffs. “Kinda feel like you’re lying but my ego will take it.”
“No, I — yeah, that was um — wonderful.”
And then she pulls him down for another kiss, her lips parting a little, moving against his, and he tries to keep up, letting his hands settle at the curve of her hips.
She sighs when she pulls away, a content little kitten sound, and then pecks him once, sweet and perfunctory, on the lips.
“You need to do your homework,” she reminds him, in an outrageously raspy version of her voice he’s never heard before.
“Uh huh.”
And then he kisses her again, since, ya know, tit for tat, and they spend the whole entire afternoon in the dappled golden sunlight of the woods kissing. What he lacks in experience he makes up for in unbridled enthusiasm, and Chrissy doesn’t seem to mind one bit.
So, yeah, the thing is — she still doesn’t mention that this is fake. Not when he drives her home and she brushes her thumb over his knuckles the whole way, and certainly not when she leans over and leaves a lingering kiss on his mouth before she hops out of the van at Harrington’s.
(It used to make him jealous, that in early April she moved out of her parents house and into Steve Harrington’s well equipped guest room in his big empty house. But now they kiss, so, not much to be jealous about).
***
“What are you and Chrissy doing after prom?” Robin asks him on the way to lunch.
Eddie frowns. “I’m not going to prom.”
Robin’s eyes go wide. “You’re not taking her? She’s gonna go alone?”
Eddie shrugs. Chrissy doesn’t really talk to him about stuff like prom. She knows how he feels about high school bullshit at this point, and he doesn’t begrudge her that she likes some of it — cheer, the pep rallies, dances — but she accepts that it’s not for him.
“I guess so.”
“Oh my god,” Robin gasps. “You’re the worst boyfriend in the world. Fucking boys.”
“Hey!” Eddie exclaims defensively. “Sorry I don’t want to go to the dumb little dance where they reinforce the bullshit monarchy of high school.”
“Your girlfriend,” Robin says carefully, an angry low tone to her voice, “is absolutely getting crowned queen of that bullshit monarchy. And you’re not even gonna be there?”
“So, you’re telling me I should take her?” Eddie asks cautiously.
“ Yes, you clownboy!”
“Okay, you are unnecessarily rude. Harrington is right about you.”
“Please, Steve is obsessed with me,” she scoffs. “What would he do without me?”
It’s a good question, and one Eddie has no answer for. Those two are the most chaotic combination of borderline hostile and extremely codependent he’s ever seen.
“Can’t believe I’m gonna go to the fucking prom.”
“And you better act enthusiastic when you ask her,” Robin scolds, poking him hard in the chest. “That girl deserves the world.”
He glares. Sure, he thinks prom is stupid, but everyone knows how he is about Chrissy. Robin saw them all of spring break, she knows that he got in a knockdown drag out fist fight with her garbage ex boyfriend. She knows that not once, but two times, he tried to die for her.
He knows what Chrissy deserves. And he’s gonna give it to her, no matter how uncomfortable it makes him.
He doesn’t run away anymore, and he certainly doesn’t run away from Chrissy.
“I will,” he assures Robin, batting her hand away. “Don’t act like I don’t know I’m the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.”
He’d spent all night thinking just that last night, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, replaying every single kiss he shared with Chrissy in the woods, and the one she’d planted on him in his car.
Robin doesn’t know that he didn’t think to ask her to prom because this is, technically speaking, all a ruse. Except for all the ways it’s not, or at least, he can’t tell anymore if it is.
Why did she make out with him for like, two hours yesterday when no one was around?
Like she’s been summoned, Chrissy comes bouncing up like a ray of sunshine.
“Hey guys!” she greets. She kisses Eddie on the mouth, again, and he melts.
When Chrissy pulls away Robin is giving him a knowing look, like she’s almost embarrassed for him because of how clearly ass-backwards in love with Chrissy he is.
“We’re having a party after prom,” Robin informs Chrissy matter-of-factly. “At Steve’s.”
Chrissy tenses a little at the mention of prom, but laughs airily. “I live there, so I’ll be there.”
Eddie’s hand is on her lower back, just under her backpack. It’s natural, to be this way with her.
“Good. Steve’s gonna let me make my famous jungle juice.”
“No,” Nancy says as she walks up. “Robin, it’s literally dangerous.”
“If you’re a coward.”
Nancy and Robin walk off bickering, leaving Eddie and Chrissy standing alone. She steps out from under his hand and gives him a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.
“You should come,” Chrissy says, “to the after thing.”
Eddie nods. He’s not gonna ask her here, in the hallway. He’s far too dramatic for that, too much of a deep down secret romantic to settle for wanna go to prom with me in a linoleum hallway that smells like cafeteria pizza, like some kind of gormless jock. If he’s gonna do this, he’s gonna do the damn thing.
He flashes her a smile of his own and reaches out to squeeze her hand. “Anything for you, princess.”
She flushes and follows him to lunch.
***
The next day, he’s totally ready. He ditches last period and buys a bunch of flowers, which he has a bit too much fun destroying in the back of the van. Then he takes the paper bag full of rose petals to their bench and scatters them all over and around it.
He’s got his acoustic — THIS MACHINE SLAYS DRAGONS. On the back, Chrissy added her own little inscription — AND DEMONS — in her bubbly handwriting.
(They had hunkered down at Rick’s together for a couple of days. She was sick of her Walkman and her music, couldn’t stand to hear Raspberry Beret again, so he plucked out some songs for her on his acoustic, delivered by Wayne under cover of night, and kept Vecna at bay for her. After everything was over, she’d snatched his guitar and his thing of white paint with his thinnest brush to add her writing, too.)
Eddie had slipped a note in her locker — meet me at our spot after school. - E
Now he paces around and plucks nervously on his guitar, trying out some softened versions of new riffs he’d like to add to Corroded Coffin’s latest. He hears the light crunch of her shoes on the forest floor and whirls around.
He starts his little song as she enters the clearing. She’s blinking, totally confused by the pink petals everywhere — he’d probably go for the red ones, himself, but Chrissy loves pink so pink it was.
He clears his throat with a nervous grin and sings. “I’m not one for dances, but for you I’d take my chances, and you’ll be the prettiest queen, so will you go to prom with me?”
It’s not his best work. The last thing he wanted to do was serenade her in the woods with some awkwardly long song while she stared at him, so his little ditty will have to do.
She’s smiling so wide he thinks her cheeks must hurt. “Of course!”
She bounds forward and pops on her toes, the body of his guitar between them. She kisses him, soft and sweet and long. He sighs into her mouth and knocks his forehead on hers when she pulls away.
“You’re gonna have to teach me how to dance,” he warns her. “And I’m exceedingly clumsy.”
She giggles and shakes her head. “It’s gonna be so fun. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For asking me,” she says shyly. “I — didn’t want to go with anyone if it wasn’t gonna be you.”
He doesn’t know what the hell to do with that. Is this fake? Is it real? Will he ever get up the guts to ask her?
Instead, he pinches her hip to make her laugh. “Just wait till you see my inflatable tube man dancing.”
She laughs harder, and to his utter joy, throws her arms up and starts wriggling around. “Like this?”
He cackles, clapping his hands. “You’re amazing.”
Chrissy isn’t really like this with other people, unreserved and goofy, and it’s the biggest goddamn honor that she’s like this with him. She beams and winks at him, and he thinks he could fuckin’ fly.
***
Prom is actually fun. He’d never admit that to anyone but Chrissy, but he’s having a great time.
He and Chrissy thrifted him a super cool dark red jacket. He’s wearing it with a black button down and black jeans, totally different than Chrissy’s cotton candy pink silky dress. She hadn’t cared about matching, and had thanked him profusely for the pink and white corsage he got her. She made him a boutonnière with a little metal chain on it.
He is, hand to God, ready to go to war for this girl.
He’s watching Chrissy bop around with Nancy to Bananarama, grinning fondly, when someone lands at his side.
It’s Trish, in a black dress and a shawl, her hair long and wavy. She looks like she should be playing the tambourine at a music festival.
“Hey Eddie.”
“Hey.”
“I’m surprised you’re here,” she observes, looking him up and down. “Really cool look.”
“Thanks. Chrissy picked it for me,” he says. That narrows her eyes a little.
“So you guys are really together?” she asks suspiciously. He furrows his brow.
“Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t we be really together?”
They’re not. Or they are? Fuck if he knows, actually.
Trish smirks. “I’ve just heard Chrissy still flirts with half the football team.”
Eddie rolls his eyes and ignores the pang in his chest at that. “No one has ever accused the high school rumor mill of accuracy.”
“I just — come on. Chrissy Cunningham? She’s a total airhead.”
“She’s —”
“You’re creative and interesting and so above all this high school bullshit, and Chrissy Cunningham is the poster child for high school bullshit. She’s gonna get crowned prom queen.”
She steps closer, grabbing onto his arm.
“Don’t you want to be with someone more interesting?”
Eddie scoffs and yanks his arm back. “Do you even hear yourself? Talk about being judgmental. Chrissy’s the most interesting person I’ve ever met. I can’t believe she even wants to be around me.”
Trish rolls her eyes. “Wow. Another guy who mistakes a cheer skirt for a personality.”
Eddie throws his hands up. “You like me because you think I — what, lead a cult or something? Jesus Christ. You don’t know me, Trish, and you don’t know Chrissy at all, so maybe just back the fuck off.”
He turns on his heel and walks away, feeling totally pissed off, and searches the dance floor for Chrissy. She always calms him down, with her easy giggles and soft hands.
But she’s nowhere to be found. Neither is Nancy.
Robin comes storming over, shoving him a little. “What the hell man?”
“What did I do?!” he yelps.
“Chrissy heard you and Trish.”
“Then she heard me say she’s the most interesting person I’ve ever met?” he asks, totally confused. “Trish was being a bitch and I set her straight.”
Robin shakes her head. “She heard what Trish was saying about her.”
Eddie rolls his neck and looks at the ceiling like it can save him from the unrelenting drama of high school.
“Where’d she go?”
“She’s outside with Nance.”
Eddie salutes her and heads that way, banging out of the doors to see her sitting on the ground beside Nancy, sniffling loudly. Nancy looks up at him wearily.
“Mind giving me a second with my girl, Wheeler?”
She smiles at him, in that wry Nancy way. “Sure thing Munson.”
He helps Nancy up and watches her leave before he sits next to Chrissy, placing his palm on her bare thigh. Her dress is short satin with what she called a sweetheart neckline , with a big bow on the back and puffy, off-the-shoulder sleeves.
“What’s got you so upset, sweetheart?”
Chrissy laughs, a painful little bitter sound that squeezes his heart. “I heard what Trish said to you about me.”
Eddie leans his head back on the wall and turns his head to look at her. “She’s jealous. You know that.”
Chrissy shakes her head, her golden strawberry curls shaking with it. “She’s right.”
Eddie draws back, offended. “Chrissy. Come on. Don’t talk shit about my favorite person in Hawkins. Nay, in the world.”
That gets a laugh out of her, not bitter this time. “I’m sure everyone wonders what you’re doing with me.”
Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Chrissy. That’s the most bonkers shit you’ve ever said to me, and you once told me you were being hunted by a demon from a parallel dimension.”
She snorts. “I didn’t tell you that, Dustin did.”
“Tomato tomahto. Point being, sweetheart, you are like, not just out of my league. You’re like, the star player and I’m the dude who takes out the trash in the locker room.”
“Hey,” she huffs. “Don’t be mean to my favorite person.”
He grins at her. It still never ceases to amaze him that she actually likes him.
He takes a chance and kisses her. He doesn’t even bother mentioning that this whole thing — the fake dating — only came about to get rid of Trish, and it’s clearly served its purpose.
Because what if he says that, and Chrissy gives him a high five and tells him they can call it quits?
Instead of doing that, he kisses her for a few minutes, reveling in the way she relaxes under his hands and his mouth, and then bumps his nose against hers.
“C’mon, we don’t wanna miss your coronation.”
“I might not even win,” she reminds him as he stands and pulls her to her feet.
She lands on her toes, agile as ever even though he yanked her pretty hard.
“Cunningham, I have very little faith in the brainless mass of Hawkins High, but even they know there’s only one option for their beloved queen.”
She giggles, scrunching her nose — his goddamn favorite — and takes his hand. He leads her back to the dance floor and jumps around like a fool with Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Jeff and Gareth. Chrissy stays by his side the whole time, and when Trish catches her eye, Chrissy flips her off.
He gasps, mockingly horrified. “ Christine!”
She grins victoriously and flashes devil horns at him, closing one eye and sticking out her tongue.
He can’t help it. He tugs her in and kisses her hard, right in the middle of the dance floor, and she giggles joyfully into his mouth, and he wants to drink it down like orange soda.
Just as he suspected, she gets crowned prom queen. The king is some football player that Eddie doesn’t even know, and Eddie gets a real sense of satisfaction that Carver isn’t even here, since he’s banned from school events for trying to, ya know, lead a village mob and for pulling a gun on Lucas Sinclair.
About twenty seconds into her slow dance with the football guy, she says something to him and he nods, smiling at her as they separate. Chrissy squints into the light and waves at Eddie, so he pushes through the crowd. The prom king has found his own date, and Chrissy tugs Eddie into a slowly rotating shuffle of a dance, her arms around his neck.
Bryan Adams is, in Eddie’s opinion, awful, but for the moment he’s his favorite musician while he dances with Chrissy and her sparkly tiara to Heaven.
He gives her a twirl and Robin whoops and then Chrissy kisses him in front of everyone, and prom is fun, actually, prom is great.
Because Chrissy is happy. She’s a far cry from the girl in the woods that first day when he found her again. She’s so different than she was over spring break.
She’s whole, and he’s so goddamn proud of her he could cry.
It doesn’t really matter if it’s real or not, he decides, because his feelings are real as hell. He’ll take whatever she’ll give him until she leaves in September for school, and he’ll deal with the heartbreak later.
***
He wakes up the morning after prom in Chrissy’s bed, with her sprawled across his chest. She had asked him to stay with her, sleepily tugging him onto her bed and cuddling up to him, even giving him a gentle goodnight kiss. She’s like a radiator, her skin hot to the touch, and he manages to slip out from underneath her without waking her.
He’s jonesing for a cigarette, and he’s worried if he lays there any longer he’s gonna break his own heart watching her sleep like she’s actually his.
He trundles down the stairs and heads for the backyard, barefoot and shirtless in ratty sweats. He sits by Harrington’s pool and lights up a cigarette, startling when Steve comes out in his basketball shorts. He’s also shirtless and Eddie rolls his eyes.
“What?” Steve complains. “You’re not wearing one either.”
Eddie doesn’t respond, just sucks on his Kool and stares at the bright reflection on the water.
“Chrissy seemed happy.”
“Yeah, she was,” Eddie agrees.
“She seems happy with you.”
Chrissy had spent the whole after party sitting in his lap or tucked into his side, always touching him, sneaking kisses, sharing drinks. Everyone had changed into pajamas and he insisted she keep her tiara on. Nancy took a Polaroid of the two of them, Chrissy in her baby blue matching tank top and shorts ( hot damn), Eddie sans shirt. He’s kissing her cheek while she beams. He’s genuinely considering getting it tattooed on his chest.
Eddie swallows hard and finally, finally tells someone the truth. “It’s uh, not actually real.”
Steve raises his eyebrows. “What?”
“Yeah, she suggested we pretend to be together to get Trish off my back.”
Steve laughs disbelievingly. “That’s such bullshit.”
“It’s not. That’s the truth. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“I won’t,” Steve promises, “but, I hate to break it to you — this thing between you guys is absolutely real.”
“It’s not.”
“If it’s fake, then why the hell is it real ?” Steve challenges. “Chrissy didn’t have to ask you to stay last night. You weren’t drunk. She didn’t have to ask that football meathead to dance with you instead when she won prom queen. She wouldn’t have cried about what Trish said.”
“She’s sensitive. And she was — playing along.”
Steve is unamused and unconvinced. “Do you guys kiss when no one is around?”
Eddie looks away. “None of your business.”
“You do,” Steve says matter of factly. “She’s your girlfriend.”
Eddie shakes his head. “I fuckin’ wish, dude.”
“Oh my god. Talk to her. Tell her you want it to be real, and I guarantee you she feels the same.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not. If I am, you can punch me square in the face.”
Hell of an offer, even though they’re friends now. Eddie hasn’t forgotten that Steve is the one who actually dubbed him the Freak to begin with.
“Rings and all?” Eddie asks.
“Sure.”
Damn. If Steve is so sure he would let Eddie punch him in the face with his rings — then maybe he’s seeing something Eddie isn’t.
Robin comes down and interrupts them, and they all head inside to make breakfast. When Chrissy comes down, she wraps herself around Eddie’s back, pressing her cheek to his bare spine.
“Morning baby,” she yawns.
He smiles softly, putting his hands over hers on his chest. “Morning, sweetheart.”
Steve gives him a look over the kitchen island, and Eddie looks away.
***
“I have to tell you something,” Chrissy blurts out like she can’t talk fast enough.
They’re at the Hideout after his show, and the guys are playing pool while he and Chrissy sit at a high top talking.
“Do tell.”
“Um, maybe not here?”
Eddie starts to feel a little nervous. Has she met someone? Does she want to call this off? Is she going to say this whole thing was a mistake and he’s actually made her uncomfortable with his kisses and his touch?
He gets down from the stool and helps Chrissy down from hers. She takes his hand and leads the way outside to the dimly lit parking lot.
It’s the end of May, but it’s a chillier night. He shrugs his jacket off and puts it around her, earning him a sweet if trembling smile.
“What’s up, buttercup?” he asks her.
She takes a deep breath and stares at his toes. “Um, so, I — need to — I have to confess something.”
He tries to make it light. “ Confess? Ooh, dish, Cunningham, tell me your secrets.”
She’s still not looking at him. “I lied to you.”
Eddie stiffens. This is it. This is why he’s never asked her what the hell is going on between them.
“Uh, about what?”
“I — when I said we should pretend to date.”
“If you don’t want to do this anymore,” Eddie starts slowly, his heart aching as he determinedly presses on, “I understand. It’s okay.”
She shakes her head. “No. It’s — the opposite.”
“Opposite?” he echoes hopefully. She’s so nervous and that kinda breaks his heart, so he tilts her chin up to look her in the eyes. “C’mon, pretty girl, you know you can tell me anything.”
“I tricked you,” she rushes, her words tripping over each other. “I tricked you into becoming my boyfriend and that’s not fair and I feel awful about it, but I — I thought maybe if you — if we pretended, you’d realize that I was — that we could be — that you’d notice me like that, and then we started kissing too and I didn’t want to stop, and —”
His head is spinning. She tricked him? This entire time, this was her way of trying to get him to fall for her?
This sweet little trickster of a girl, who had no idea he’s been hers since he was fourteen years old.
He bends down and kisses her as her eyes start to fill with tears, panic on her face, and he backs her into the wall with the ferocity of it, moving urgently against her, hands slipping under the cracked leather of his own jacket.
“Sweetheart,” he pants against her mouth, breath mingling with hers. “Baby. Princess. This has always been real to me.”
Her eyes blow wide and her smile grows, slow and steady, until she’s beaming like the stars live behind her teeth.
“Really?” she gasps, all surprised like she was in the woods that day, a little reflection of her asking me?
“Really really,” he promises, kissing her again. Softer this time. “I — Chrissy, I think I’m in love with you.”
Her smile grows impossibly wider. “I think I’ve been in love with you since you called me a freak.”
His stomach is full of butterflies. He can barely feel his body, he’s so tingly all over.
“That did it for ya, huh?” he teases.
“So — you actually want to be my boyfriend?”
“I am your boyfriend,” he says proudly.
“And I’m your girlfriend,” she practically chirps.
“Sure are,” he grins, bending down to steal another kiss. He pulls away and shakes his head with a little laugh.
“What?” she asks.
“I don’t get to punch Harrington in the face now.”
Chrissy splutters. “Uh, what?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie laughs. “I’ve got better things to do anyway.”
“Like what?”
Eddie leans down and grabs her around the thighs, hoisting her over his shoulder as she erupts in peels of laughter.
“Like this.”
He carries her to his van, grinning all the way. She doesn’t stop giggling until she’s in his lap in the front seat.