The top of the bar was sticky and the nightclub had filled up so people kept jostling her in her seat when they came up to order. With a scowl she scooted further down the bar, ending up in the corner where it was much less busy. She didn't even want to be here, but her "friends" had dragged her out again, promising not to abandon her and that she would have fun.

She wasn't. The dance floor was packed full of guys with grabby hands and bad breath, who were currently surrounding her roommate and the rest of their friends. Eleven rolled her eyes and turned back to her gin and tonic, taking a sip and wishing the alcohol would magically transport her back to her apartment. She had to work tomorrow evening anyways, some big event she needed to be present at. At least it made good money.

Enough money to pay for this drink, at least, and her overpriced apartment. And whatever else her mid-twenties life crisis might convince her to buy. She sighed, eyes still closed.

"That good of a drink?"

A random blonde guy was next to her and she immediately frowned at him as he looked her up and down hungrily.

"Could I buy you another?" he asked licking his lips and she didn't bother wiping the look of disgust from her face.

"No. I'm good."

She turned back to the bar, wondering if he was going to try and make her accept it anyways. Precious few men actually took her refusal for an answer, some getting pissed and calling her a bitch, others trying to grab her, some convinced they could get her to say yes. Once guy had even bribed her, casually setting his open bank app next to her so she could see the six figure number. She'd told him to be more careful or his account might get hacked.

Every muscle was tense and when a finger tapped her shoulder. She whipped around, hackles raised and the guy behind her took a step back, looking alarmed. He was a different one, taller and pale with a mop of ebony hair that fell into his dark chocolate eyes. She relaxed a bit.

"Can I help you?"

"Um, yeah, that guy you were just talking to," he held up her purse which she realized was somehow no longer attached to her body, "kind of tried to steal your bag. I told the bouncer though, he got thrown out. Here." He offered it to her and she took it gingerly.

"Oh, wow, um… thanks."

She didn't really know what to say, usually she ended up cussing guys out or siccing the bartender on them, but this guy… was actually being nice? He licked his lips awkwardly and then held out his hand.

"I'm Mike, um, sorry if I'm bothering you…"

"No, it's okay. I'm Eleven, um, it's a nickname," she quickly explained at his look of confusion, shaking his hand quickly and then resting it back into her lap. "Thanks though, really, for getting my bag back."

"It's nothing I've kind been noticing you all night—" she tensed again but he didn't notice, finishing his sentence, "—since you're the only who looks as sick of this place as I feel."

That was different. Most people assumed she was there willingly and having a great time. She felt curious, blinking back at him before nodding cautiously.

"Why are you here then?"

"Um, one of my buddies is getting married, we came from Hawkins to get trashed for his bachelor party but… it's not really my thing," he shrugged and then nodded to a group of guys further down the counter taking a round of shots. "We're staying here for the night but I'm kind of considering going home after they pass out."

"My friends brought me too," she sighed, "but they always seem to have more fun than me."

She grabbed her drink and slurped the last of it down. It was her second and she felt the alcohol little, enough that she knew not to drive but not so much that she was afraid she'd do something stupid. He noticed her empty glass.

"Did you want another one? We have open tab. My friend Lucas said he would pay for booze the night and I'm not really drinking so…"

"Oh… no it's okay. I shouldn't anyways, I'm a little drunk already."

There was a flash of disappointment in his eyes and she readied herself for him to get angry or whiny or pouty. But he didn't, just bobbing his head.

"Okay, um, well…" his leg was jiggling up and down, "nice to meet you, Eleven. I hope your night gets better."

He turned to go and she found herself reaching out, grabbing his elbow. He turned back to her, eyebrows peaked into a question. His face so pale that his lips almost looked red in the dim light and she wondered what they tasted like. Fuck, he's really cute.

"Wait, Mike…" the last gulp of alcohol was definitely fuzzing her brain, "I want to get french fries."

He blinked. "You want… fries?"

"Yeah. I'm hungry. But I shouldn't go wandering out alone, there's creeps…" she trailed off, letting him put together the pieces. He wasn't a creep to her. She wanted french fries. They were both bored of the night club.

"Isn't there a Wendy's down the street?" he asked as a smile quirked the corner of his mouth. Her heart sped up and she nodded.

"Walk with me?"

"Only so the creeps don't get you."

She didn't understand why she trusted him, but she did. Something about his eyes. They were dark, almost black, but lit up from behind with a strange sort of a warmth that made her stomach burn. Her lower half was burning too, but she tried to ignore it.

Grabbing his hand she jumped down from her barstool and led him out, through the dance floor where people were packed together, writhing to the music. The bass was thumping, she could feel it in her chest, echoing her heart beat. The music was something upbeat and dance-y, with a melody that was catchy and almost made her want to stop and give in to the rhythm. Whoever was singing was killing it, his vocals filling the air around them.

"You are the piece that I can't replace
A star shot from outer space
And as the lights dance around your face
Not gonna stop 'til the break of day

Tonight is the night we dance in the lights
Won't stop 'til the sun comes out
It's just you and I, we're sparks in the night
Won't stop 'til we're burning bright

When we collide."

They finally made it outside and El paused to take a breath, still holding Mike's hand. He seemed unsure of what to make of the situation, the pretty young women attached to him was definitely making something in him stir, but she was also inebriated. He wouldn't take advantage of that.

She was tottering in her heels and he winced sympathetically.

"Why do you women wear heels when you know they hurt?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Because they look good, they make our legs look better," she huffed as she struggled, wincing at each footstep.

"Your legs look fine to me…" he gulped at his slip, "um, I mean, women in general, not just your legs—Uh, not that you don't have nice legs, I just meant—"

"Mike?"

"Yeah?" he gulped, sure he'd just blown it and she was going to tell him to take a hike.

"Can I have a piggyback ride?"

He stopped walking, surprised and she turned to look at him. Her face was pleading, the big, brown doe eyes that had almost frozen in him in his tracks earlier full of hope. Does she really want me to?

"I mean… if you really want."

"Please, my feet are going to fall off. I'll buy you french fries too."

He grinned. "Well, I can't say no to that…"

He turned around and crouched down and she hopped onto his back, wrapping her small arms around his neck and pulling herself up. Her legs squeezed around his waist and he looped his arms under knees, making sure she wouldn't slide down. He was actually really good at giving piggyback rides, his little sister had treated him her personal donkey growing up, so he wasn't too fazed by it. However he was definitely a little distracted by the feel of her firm breasts squishing up against his back. The dress she was wearing had ridden up her legs and he tried not to focus on the feel of her body pressed against his, her smooth skin under his hands. He gulped.

"So Mike—what's your last name?"

"Wheeler," he said gamely.

"So Mike Wheeler, I have a question."

"Yeah?"

"What the fuck is a Hawkins?"

He almost busted out laughing, settling for a soft chuckle instead.

"It's my hometown, further out west, about an hour and a half drive from here."

"How big is it?"

"Umm… I think we hit an even hundred thousand a few years back. It's been growing but it's still pretty small."

"Sounds terrible. What do you do there?"

"Uhhh, I teach seventh grade science class, but I also write."

"Write what?"

He swallowed, hoping she wouldn't think he was lame. "Um, like young adult fantasy action novels? Or… I'm working on some. I don't have anything published but…"

"An author who teaches kids. That's kind of cool," she admitted.

Her warm breath on his ear was making his shiver and he tried to focus on the Wendy's sign up ahead instead of the way her lips kept brushing his neck and the smell of her perfume, something soft and florally, that now surrounded him.

"So El—" he started to say but she cut him off.

"What'd you call me?"

He blanched. He'd given her a nickname without even thinking about it.

"Um, El? Like short for Eleven? Sorry, that's probably crossing a line—"

"No, I…. I like it," she murmured.

"Oh, um, cool," he tried to change the subject, hoping she couldn't feel how hard his heart was beating. "So what do you do?"

"I work for my dad, well, adopted dad. I don't like to consider him my dad cause he's kind of a fucking asshole."

"Why do you work for him then?"

"Because I'm poor as fuck. And he pays really well, I'm his assistant."

"What does he do?"

"Everything," she sighed, "business, entrepreneuring, producing… it's a fucking mess."

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. That's the problem."

They'd finally reached the Wendy's and he carefully set her down. His back felt cold without her but he tried not think about it, reaching for the door and opening it for her. The place was almost deserted, other than some drunk college students in one corner and he followed her to counter.

"Two large fries, extra salty," she told the tired looking employee. "Oh… and a frosty."

She pulled her wallet out and paid, then turned and leaned against the counter as she waited for them get the order done. The lighting in her was a lot brighter than that shitty club and Mike blinked as he took her in. She'd looked great sitting at the bar, legs crossed, looking bored as fuck. He'd tried not stare, but couldn't help glancing back now and then to see if she was still there. Now in the light she saw that her brown eyes had sparks of green around the iris, her lips pinker, her hair more of a dusky brown than dark chocolate. He gulped.

"Um, thanks for the food."

"Thanks for the ride," she snickered, tilting her head and looking up at him. "You're really fucking tall."

"Thank… you…?"

"How tall are you exactly?"

"Um, 6'3… why do girls always ask that? Is there some secret magic number? I feel like being the damn giraffe in the room is enough for everyone to realize that yes, I am tall."

"Oh, I dunno, I was just curious," she shrugged, unbothered by his small rant. She was too drunk to care and when the food arrived she almost squealed with excitement. "Yes, I'm soooo hungry."

They picked a random table and he watched her dig into the food, dipping her fries into her frosty and then sighing happily as she chewed. She moaned and he glanced around the empty eating establishment, hoping no one had heard.

"Easy on the sex noises," he teased, "are the fries really that good?"

She looked shocked. "I'm not… sex noises?"

"Yeah, you're… moaning."

"I am?"

She looked around and then leaned forward, whispering.

"Did anyone hear?"

"Um, no… I think you're good."

She grabbed another fry, dipping it into the chocolate shake and then slowly put it into her mouth, sucking her finger to get the salt off and then moaned, loud enough that the drunk kids in the corner looked over. Mike turned red.

"Oh my god, El, don't do that!"

He was absolutely scarlet and she giggled.

"But you're cute when you're embarrassed," she protested.

"Okay, why don't you eat some more fries like a normal person, and maybe then I'll let you embarrass me, okay?"

"Ohhhkaaayy," she sang, grabbing more fries.

It was quiet while she ate and he joined her, not terribly hungry but not wanting to be rude. She ended up eating most of both their fries. They just talked, for almost an hour. He told her about his friend, Will, who was getting married to this guy he'd met in college, how they were soulmates and how happy he was for them. El talked about her roommate, Max, who was a personal trainer at swanky rich-person gym, who she'd known since college. They talked about recent events, music, politics, his job as a science teacher, her job and some of the celebrities she'd met, and everything in between.

El felt herself sobering, wishing she'd sobered sooner but figuring it was better late than never. Talking to him was… nice. More than nice. He listened to her and told funny stories that made her laugh. And his eyes… they were so warm. She wanted to curl up in them forever. Something about him made her cross her legs and squeeze them together, trying to ignore the burning between them.

"—after that he wouldn't come over for a week, he was convinced I'd hide another clown doll somewhere. Greatest prank I've pulled ever."

"Mike," she said seriously and he straightened a bit. "Would you mind walking me to my apartment?"

"Um, sure, where is it?"

She pointed out the window, towards one of the skyscrapers across the street. It was a posh apartment, her dad had found it for her and helped get the lease lowered so she and Max could afford it. It was close enough that she didn't need him to walk her there, but it was a test, to see if he would take the bait.

He followed her gaze towards the building, then looked back at her, catching her meaning. If he walked her over he might not go home that night. She was staring at him from across the table, chin resting in her hand, eyes half-lidded and curious. Her shoulder-length hair curled prettily around her face and the pink dress she was wearing had v-neck, that dipped low enough to show off the curve of a breast.

He licked his lips and felt himself nodding.

"Yeah, sounds good to me."