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Steph never thought she’d like Richie Lipschitz as much as she does. Not that she likes him like that, of course. He’s the stereotypical weird kid, far from her social circle, and kind of smelly. But here she is, the night before the big game against Clivesdale, holding his hands as she paints his nails.
It’s not in a romantic way! They were just hanging out, that’s all. Pete and Ruth still had to do homework, Grace had bible study, and Richie, who already finished his, suggested the remaining two trauma-bonded nerds spend some time together. Steph didn’t have anything better to do (and didn’t feel like doing her homework), so she agreed.
“I uh, like your fingernails,” Richie says after some awkward silence. “The black paint, it's really nice.”
“Thanks, wait what? Why don’t you have yours painted?” Steph replies, assuming he is the kind of person to paint his nails. She’s not wrong, of course, but his nails remain plain. He hasn’t had the chance to, and whenever he’s tried his hands have been too shaky. And there was always the biggest problem.
“Max.” He answers, “I wouldn’t dare paint my nails with him around. Once, I got a really nasty paper cut in English class while writing my essay, and the blood dried on my nail making it kind of look painted from a distance. Max had a field day with that…” Richie trails off, in thought. Unable to shake the harsh memories, the intense bullying, and all its feelings rushing back to him. Until Stephanie Lauter parts the clouds.
She puts a hand on his knee, “Hey. He’s not here anymore. No one is going to bully you ever again, Richie. Alright?” Richie is staring at her hand, not used to pretty girls paying attention to him, much less touching him. He’s speechless. After he stares at her for way too long, she moves back, “Anyways, how about we paint our nails? Mine is chipped anyways, I need a new coat.” She smiles at him, and he smiles back.
“Yeah, yeah alright!” Steph looks through her bag for all the colours she has. She and her friends paint their nails at school sometimes, and she’s thrown the bottles in her bag to forget about. She manages to find a black bottle for her, and a blue one for Richie. The same shade as his hair.
“Blue?” Richie asked.
“Yeah, it’s your favourite colour, right?” She says absentmindedly, as she unscrews her own bottle of nail polish.
“Yeah… It is.” He smiles. It’s a cute, goofy smile. He’s probably just not used to people paying attention to him. His hair and clothes are blue, it’s not that hard to tell that it’s his favourite colour! Not that Steph was paying attention to him. At least, not that much attention. It’s not in a romantic way, though! She just likes to look at him. That’s not romantic! Steph finishes painting her nails quickly, being very practiced.
Richie is… another story. It’s cute, really. He’s so focused, his tongue sticks out of his mouth slightly, and Steph only looks at it for a completely normal amount of time. Despite his focus, he isnt doing the best job. Okay, he’s doing a bad job.
“What is that?” Steph laughs.
“I’m sorry I’m doing my best! My hands just get shaky.” Steph nods in understanding, before grabbing some nail polish remover and a tissue. She puts some on the tissue and gently grabs Richie’s hand.
“May I?” She asks, which earns a response from Richie, and he gulps. Two times now a pretty girl has touched him, and clearly, it’s affecting him.
He really is cute, huh? He is. But not like that! Not in that way.
As she gently wipes away his failed attempt at painting his nails, the cooling sensation is almost enough to tear his gaze away from her face. Almost. It’s Steph’s turn to be focused now, her brow furrowed. Occasionally she looks up at him, making eye contact. Richie flushes when she does so and looks away. When he does, it’s hurt turn to flush. Just in an embarrassed way of course, not because of feelings. She doesn’t have feelings for him.
She holds his hands still as they begin to shake again.
“Hey, Richie?”
“Y-yeah?”
“You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you. And I won’t let anyone bully you for this” Despite her best intentions, this just makes Richie’s hands shake more. Could he…? No, no. No. They’re just friends. Just hanging out as friends.
Eventually, She finishes, having to correct small mistakes (mostly borne from Richie’s shaking) with her tissue, but it's done.
“There we are, what do you think?” She asks, turning her head to put her things back into her bag.
“Absolutely perfect.” He says, smiling at her. Not even glancing at his nails for a second.
“Awesome!” Steph is unaware of the real subject of Richie’s answer, but when she turns back and sees the way he’s looking at her, the look in his eyes is so fascinating, so endearing, she can’t help but blush. And for the first time today, she is rendered speechless.
“I uh. We… We should get going.” She says.
“Yeah! Yeah… I should get home.” Richie agrees, both of them red.
“Yeah but uh. Why don’t we do this again?”
“You mean hang out? Just us?!” Richie can’t even hide his excitement at that idea.
“Yeah. This was a lot of fun. You’re kinda cool, Lipschitz.” She lightly punches his arm as she says this. When he beams, she says, “Kinda. Don’t go getting a big head now.” Steph smiles at him.
“Right, yeah, okay! Kinda is good! Kinda is great.” He smiles, before almost skipping away.
Steph shakes her head, smiling. “He’s too cute.” Maybe it is romantic.
Oh fuck.