By: FireBloodandTruth

The heat was thick, suffocating, the kind that pressed down like a weight on your chest and made every breath feel like a workout. Summer in Hawkins wasn't like summer in California—no salty ocean breeze cutting through the humidity, no endless beaches to drown the heat in. Here, the air stuck to your skin, soaked through your clothes, and clung to you like a second layer, inescapable.

Billy Hargrove hated it.

He stood at the edge of the Hawkins Community Pool, arms crossed over his bare chest, watching the water ripple in slow, lazy waves as kids splashed and parents sipped from sweating cans of soda. His sunglasses—mirrored aviators, reflecting the blinding glare of the sun—hid his eyes, but his scowl was all too visible. The muscles in his jaw tightened, a constant tic, as he scanned the crowd with the same bored disdain he'd felt for months. Everything here was dull—gray and flat in a way that made him itch for something, anything, to break the monotony.

This place wasn't California. And it sure as hell wasn't home.

Billy wiped a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, irritated by the stickiness of his own skin. He missed the dry heat of the West Coast, the kind that made you feel like you could breathe, like you could move. Hawkins was the opposite. It was a small town, a suffocating town, filled with people who were small in ways he couldn't quite put into words, but could feel. He could smell it on them, the way they settled into their mundane lives with no ambition, no spark, content to live out their years doing the same thing day in and day out. It made his skin crawl.

"Lifeguard on duty," he muttered under his breath, the words slipping out in a low growl. "Yeah, no shit."

He shifted his weight, moving from one foot to the other, and flexed his hands unconsciously. His fingers curled into fists, then relaxed, over and over. It wasn't the job that bothered him. Hell, it wasn't even the heat, or the sweat, or the endless screeching of kids too stupid to know they were supposed to stay out of the deep end. It was everything. Everything that was wrong with this goddamn town, with these people, with his life.

He caught his reflection in the glass window of the pool house. The same old face stared back at him. Jawline sharp as broken glass, golden tan, hair that fell in perfect, sun-bleached waves—he looked good. He always looked good. He knew it. It wasn't vanity, it was fact. People like him didn't blend in. They didn't go unnoticed, and they sure as hell didn't end up in places like this unless something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

Billy's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. Yeah, something had gone wrong, all right.

The memories were there, just below the surface. California. His old life. His mother's face—warm, laughing, her hair blowing in the breeze as she smiled at him from across the beach. His father's fists—cracking across his cheek like thunder, the sting of it a reminder that happiness didn't last long in the Hargrove household.

And then, Hawkins. The middle of nowhere. A fresh start, they'd said. Fresh start, his ass.

He'd been here a little over a year now, and nothing had changed. Hawkins was just another cage, another place to trap him. The people here treated him like some kind of celebrity—whispers and stares followed him everywhere he went, girls giggled and blushed, boys scowled with jealousy. But none of it mattered. None of them mattered. They were all just as pathetic as the ones he'd left behind.

Billy's gaze drifted to the water, watching the sunlight dance on the surface, refracting in a thousand directions. He let his mind wander, losing himself in the memory of California waves, real waves, the kind that made you feel alive. The kind that could crush you, rip you apart, and still make you come crawling back for more.

The pool was a joke by comparison.

"Hey, Billy!"

The voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned his head slightly, barely acknowledging the presence of Tommy, one of the high school kids who seemed to think being on Billy's good side was worth something. Tommy was grinning, all teeth and no substance, with his girlfriend hanging on his arm like she was afraid he might float away without her.

"What do you want, Tommy?" Billy asked, his voice flat, deadpan. He didn't care enough to hide his irritation.

Tommy blinked, caught off guard by the lack of enthusiasm, but recovered quickly, throwing a thumb over his shoulder toward the diving board where some of the younger kids were gathering. "That little brat over there is causing trouble again. Thought you might wanna…you know, handle it."

Billy's eyes flicked toward the group. He could already tell who Tommy was talking about. A scrawny kid, maybe eight or nine, shoving another kid toward the edge of the pool. The smaller boy stumbled but caught himself before he could fall into the water.

Billy sighed. Typical. This was what his life had come to. Babysitting. He could have been anywhere. He could have been back on the coast, riding waves, feeling the rush of adrenaline as the ocean swallowed him whole. But instead, he was here, playing lifeguard to a bunch of snot-nosed kids who didn't know their ass from a hole in the ground.

"Yeah, fine," Billy said, pushing away from the railing. He didn't wait for Tommy's response, already making his way toward the diving board with long, purposeful strides.

As he approached, the kids scattered like birds, their wide eyes darting toward him with a mix of fear and awe. Billy liked that. He liked the way they looked at him, the way they knew not to mess with him. He didn't have to say much—his presence alone was enough to get the message across.

Except for the scrawny kid. The one Tommy had pointed out. He stood his ground, his chin lifted defiantly as Billy stopped in front of him. The kid couldn't have been more than four feet tall, but the look in his eyes was something Billy recognized. Defiance. Anger. A spark of rebellion that reminded him a little too much of himself at that age.

"You got a problem, kid?" Billy asked, voice low, dangerous.

The kid didn't back down. "Nope."

Billy raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. Most kids would have pissed themselves by now, but this one? This one had balls. He wouldn't last long in a place like Hawkins, though. Not with that attitude. The town had a way of grinding down anyone who thought they were special, anyone who thought they could fight back. Billy knew that better than most.

"You think you're tough?" Billy asked, leaning down so he was eye level with the kid. "You wanna act like a big shot, huh?"

The kid's jaw clenched, and for a second, Billy thought he might take a swing at him. But the moment passed, and the kid looked away, his shoulders slumping just a little.

"Get out of here," Billy muttered, standing back up. "Go play somewhere else before I throw you in the deep end."

The kid didn't need to be told twice. He turned and ran, his feet slapping against the concrete as he disappeared into the crowd. Billy watched him go, shaking his head. Little punk had spirit, but it wouldn't do him any good in a place like this.

He turned his back on the pool, heading back toward his post. His muscles ached with the need to move, to do something—anything—to shake the feeling of being trapped in this shitty little town. Every day felt the same, like a never-ending loop of boredom and frustration. He needed something to break the cycle, something to remind him that he was still alive, still capable of feeling something more than capable of feeling something more than anger or emptiness.

As Billy made his way back to his lifeguard chair, he caught a glimpse of her.

She wasn't from around here, that much was obvious. The girl standing by the edge of the pool, adjusting her sunglasses with a bored flick of her wrist, didn't have the air of someone who belonged to Hawkins. Her hair was dark, long, falling in waves down her back. Her skin had the kind of tan you didn't get from short summers in Indiana—it was a deep, sun-kissed shade that hinted at places Billy hadn't seen in far too long. Places where the heat was dry and the breeze was salty, where the sun didn't just burn, it blazed.

Billy slowed his pace, his eyes narrowing behind his own shades as he took her in. She stood out from the crowd, not because she was trying to, but because she couldn't help it. There was something about the way she moved—self-assured, almost lazy in the way she carried herself—that caught his attention. She was relaxed, but not in a way that suggested she didn't care. More like she was in control. The kind of control Billy recognized because he had it himself. Or, at least, he used to.

She was talking to some of the other girls who worked at the pool, the part-time lifeguards, the ones who giggled and blushed whenever Billy so much as glanced their way. But this one wasn't giggling. She wasn't even looking at him. That was new. Different. He didn't like being ignored, but at the same time, something about it intrigued him. Challenged him.

He stopped next to the lifeguard chair, arms still crossed, watching her as she moved through the group. The girls parted for her, almost unconsciously, like she was the tide, and they were too weak to stand against her. They were drawn to her, and Billy could see why. There was a quiet confidence in the way she held herself, a subtle strength that didn't need to be loud or obnoxious to be noticed.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, the first real smile he'd felt all day. Yeah, this one wasn't like the others. She wasn't here to swoon or giggle or throw herself at his feet. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Billy felt something stir inside him. Interest. Curiosity. The itch of a challenge.

He uncrossed his arms and took a step forward, but before he could make his move, the whistle blew.

"Break time!" one of the other lifeguards called, and the crowd of kids in the pool began to groan in protest. Billy sighed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his red swim trunks as he watched the water slowly empty out. The kids climbed out of the pool, dripping and grumbling, and the lifeguards began to gather their towels and water bottles for their short break.

Billy scanned the deck, looking for her again. She was already heading toward one of the shaded picnic tables near the fence, her towel slung over her shoulder. She didn't seem to be in a hurry, which only made Billy more interested. Everyone else in Hawkins was always in a rush, trying to keep up with something or someone, but not her. She moved at her own pace.

He leaned against the lifeguard chair, considering his options. He could wait. Wait until she was settled in, comfortable, off guard. Or he could go now, catch her before she had time to think about who he was or what he might want.

Billy's fingers twitched at his side, itching to make a decision. He hated waiting, hated the idea of letting anything slip through his fingers. But there was something about the way she carried herself, the way she didn't seem to care about what anyone else was doing, that made him think waiting might not be such a bad idea this time.

Still, the itch was there. The need to know more. To see what it was about her that had him standing here, watching, instead of moving on to the next thing like he usually did.

He pushed himself off the chair and headed toward the picnic table, taking his time. No rush. No need to make it obvious what he was doing. He was just walking, just taking a break like everyone else. But his eyes stayed on her, tracking her movements, waiting for the moment when she'd look up and notice him.

She sat down, pulling a bottle of water from her bag and taking a slow sip. Her sunglasses were still on, hiding her eyes, but Billy could see the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. She knew. She knew he was watching, and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. Not yet.

That made him smile.

He was a few feet away from the table when he saw the sunglasses come off. She placed them on the table next to her water bottle, and for the first time, Billy got a clear look at her eyes.

Blue. Icy blue, like the kind of cold that hit you when you dove too deep into the ocean. The kind of cold that took your breath away before you even realized what was happening. It was a shock to the system, that color, so different from everything else about her—her tan, her relaxed posture, the heat of the day. But those eyes were sharp, piercing, like they could cut through anything, and Billy felt them settle on him as he finally stopped in front of the table.

He didn't speak at first. Didn't have to. He knew how to make an impression without words. It was all in the way he stood, the way he looked at her, the way he made it clear that he wasn't just passing by. He was here for a reason.

She looked up at him, her expression unreadable. She didn't smile, didn't frown, just waited. Billy liked that. He liked that she didn't jump to fill the silence like so many other girls would have. It gave him a moment to study her up close, to take in the small details he hadn't noticed before. The way her hair curled just slightly at the ends, the faint freckles on her nose, the curve of her lips as they pressed together in quiet amusement.

She wasn't laughing at him, not exactly. But there was something in her eyes that told him she wasn't taking him too seriously either.

"Nice place to hang out," Billy said, finally breaking the silence, his voice low and smooth, the same voice that had made countless girls blush and stammer over their words.

But not her. She didn't blink. Didn't flinch. She just tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing in what could only be described as mild curiosity.

"I guess," she replied, her voice steady, calm. Not nervous. Not shy. Just…there.

Billy raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Most girls he talked to around here couldn't wait to giggle and flirt, to stroke his ego, but this one? She barely seemed interested.

"You new here?" he asked, leaning one arm on the edge of the table, letting his body language do the work of closing the gap between them.

She took another sip of her water, her eyes never leaving his. "Just for the summer."

"Summer job?"

She nodded, her gaze never wavering. "Something like that."

Billy let his eyes linger on her for a moment longer, trying to figure out what her game was. She wasn't giving him much, just enough to keep him interested, but not enough to let him in. It was a delicate balance, and she was playing it perfectly.

"Well," he said, his voice dropping just a little lower, "if you're looking for someone to show you around—"

"I'm good," she cut in, her tone polite but firm. "I've got it covered."

Billy's smile widened. Oh, she was good. She was playing hard to get, and he liked that. He liked the chase, liked the idea of having to work for it. Most girls fell at his feet without him even trying, but this one? She was different. And different was exactly what he was looking for.

"You sure?" he asked, letting his voice dip into that dangerous territory between teasing and serious.

Her lips quirked up at the corners, just a little, like she knew exactly what he was doing and didn't care. "Positive."

Billy straightened up, giving her a slow nod. "All right then," he said, stepping back from the table. "Maybe I'll see you around."

She didn't say anything, just gave him a small, knowing smile before turning back to her water bottle, dismissing him without another word.

As Billy walked away, the smile on his face widened. This summer just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

Get the chapter a day early on our writing group's blog https://fictioneers.thinkific.com/pages/blog.