Vulnerable

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Both stunned, all Shannon and Tiffany could do was stare at each other. The door creaked open to the right of Tiffany, but her attention wasn't refocused until she heard Jack's voice whisper "shit."

Tiffany's head flew in that direction, unsure if she was more pissed or hurt. "What the fuck, Jack?" Rage seemed to be taking charge.

Shannon took the opportunity to slide into her clothes while the focus was off of her. "Tiff, I-," he almost sounded apologetic, but then his own anger met hers. "What was I supposed to do? If you'd actually made time for me instead of chasing after your freak sister and her freak friends, I wouldn't have had to run around looking for something else."

Tiffany's mouth gaped open and an unexpected laugh escaped. "That's a sick joke, right? You're turning this around on me?" She laughed again.

Being that her reaction was not the one he'd been expecting, he quickly shifted gears. "Look, babe, just stay the night and we can talk about this, okay?"

"There's nothing to talk about, Jack," her tone was icy. She was fighting back tears, so the best thing she knew to do was return to anger. "Go to hell." She turned her back to both of them and climbed back through the window.

Humiliated wasn't even the word to describe how she felt trudging back through the yard towards her car. No sooner than she slammed the door to the car, the storm really began to conjure up.

The further down the road she got, the more the rain started to fall. There was a sinking feeling that was encapsulating her stomach and it wasn't just the disgust she was feeling from what she'd walked in on, but instead it was something that made the hairs on her neck stand up.

As if the night, and Tiffany's luck, couldn't get any worse, her car started sputtering until it came to a complete halt on the side of the road. "Son of a bitch," she shrieked and banged her hands against the steering wheel.

As fate would have it, for Tiffany, the end of the storm was nowhere in sight and she was, what seemed like, the middle of nowhere. Eventually, she braved it out and left the vehicle started towards town. A few cars passed here and there, but none stopped to so much as check on her. There wasn't much to hear aside from the rain beating down on the pavement, so when a throaty growl came from in the woods, it sent her heart lurching. Given everything that the last two days had thrown her, all she had left to do was cry in fear. The tears that fell down her face melted into the rain that poured down her face. She knew she couldn't stop though. No, that would be the worst decision she could make, so instead she walked faster.

After walking nearly two miles in the pouring rain, she watched as a familiar burgundy BMW sped past. She squeezed her eyes shut, as she heard the tires skid against the rain into a halt, hoping it would turn her invisible. It was a useless feat, really, especially since Steve Harrington slowly drove up beside her. "Need a lift?"

Boy, was she getting sick of being the damsel in distress to none other than Steve Harrington.

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He drove her back to her car, in hopes that whatever had gone wrong would be an easy fix. "Looks like a dead battery to me," he said, joining her back in his own car. He shook his hair and sent droplets flying.

"Geez, Steve, you're worse than a dog," Tiffany muttered, flinching away from the assault. "That sounds simple enough, got any jumper cables?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm not sure if you've noticed or not, but it's pouring down rain. Water and electricity don't mix." Tiffany leaned her head back against the headrest and groaned. "Look, my house isn't far off, we can hang out there until the rain stops."

Tiffany was running out of any energy required to argue. It was a bad idea, terrible, even, to go to Steve's house alone. Nancy was already extremely weary about what their friendship used to be, and it was sure to look worse being that it was right after finding her boyfriend in bed with another girl. But at the time, she saw no other choice. "Yeah, okay," she shrugged, leaning back into her seat. She stared out of the passenger window, until they started down the familiar driveway.

It was oddly comforting, being at the Harrington house. Growing up, she'd spent more time there than at her own house. It wasn't until they got into high school that people started questioning the closeness of the pair. Instead of sitting and talking about the possibility that there could be something more than just a friendship, they both just immediately jumped ship. Tiffany found Jack not long after that and Steve hopped from pointless relationship to pointless relationship, until he found Nancy.

"You okay?" His voice startled her, making her realize they had pulled all the way into the driveway.

Tiffany sat up a little straighter, focusing on anything besides his gaze that was carefully watching her. "I-y-yeah," she stammered. "I just haven't slept in over forty-eight hours, is all." She climbed out of the passenger seat and made her way into the house. The cool air inside hit her like a bus, making her shiver. When she rounded the corner of the kitchen, she nearly collided with Steve's mother.

"Tiffany, sweetheart, hi," she greeted with a grin, before frowning at the state of her. "Were you out in this mess? Are you okay?" Her eyes flashed up to Steve, but refocused on Tiffany, awaiting an answer.

"I'm fine," Tiffany assured her. "My car died, but it's no big deal."

She pursed her lips, not completely accepting the young girl's answer. "Steve, take her upstairs to my closet and let her get some dry clothes," she told her son. "If you need to stay the night, you're more than welcome."

"Honey, we need to get on the road," Steve's father called from the front door, impatiently, making the woman sigh, but oblige.

"Bye, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington," Tiffany waved after them.

"Kiss ass," Steve chuckled, bounding up the stairs, before stopping halfway. "You coming?"

Tiffany slowly followed him upstairs and to his mother's closet. She felt much better after changing into dry clothes, even if she wouldn't be caught dead wearing the pastel pink dress in public.

Steve was laying across his bed, throwing a basketball up in the air and catching it. The flash of color from his doorway caught his attention and made him sit upright. "You look-,"

"Like I just got out of Easter Sunday service?" Tiffany scoffed, scratching near the neckline of the dress.  She stalked over to the chair near the window and looked down into the pool that was nearly overflowing.

"I was going to say nice, but yeah, that too," he chuckled. "So, what were you doing all the way out here?"

Tiffany clenched her jaw, frowning at the question. "I was seeing Jack," she said dryly, not looking back at him.

"And you didn't stay?" He pushed, of course.

"Obviously I didn't stay, or I wouldn't be here," she snapped, still refusing to look his way.

"Geez Tiff, you don't have to do that," he countered. "You don't have to be bitchy towards me, just for the sake of being bitchy."

Tiffany stood up and started towards the door. Her chest was aching and the last thing she wanted was to cry in front of Steve. Between Jack being Jack, Steve's snide comment just then and feeling like the frilly dress was suffocating her, she knew that if she didn't get out that was exactly what was going to happen.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, clearly disgruntled, as he debated whether or not to follow after her. He knew she was stubborn, though, and if he didn't stop her, she'd return back to walking in the storm. He ran through the door and reached her just as she made it downstairs. "Whoa, whoa, wait a second," he grabbed her wrist gently. "You can't leave, it's still pouring down rain. Just—just tell me what's going on, okay?"

"It's none of your business, Harrington," she said coldly, removing her wrist from his grasp.

"Stop doing that!" His tone elevated, but only purely out of frustration for the situation. "Stop trying to push me away and shut me out. It's me! It's Steve!" He almost sounded pleading. "The same Steve that skipped school in eighth grade and rode my bike to your house to hang out with you, even though you had chicken pox...then got chicken pox shortly after." He shook his head at his own anecdote, getting back on track. "The point is, I'm here. I know I've been a shitty friend and I'm sorry it took four years and way too little sleep to have this conversation with you, but I don't care what people think about us being friends, Tiff, I just want my best friend back. And on more than just a 'nice package, Harrington', level. Not on a 'pretend to be semi-friends because we're dating people and they're friends too' level, either..." he trailed off when he saw Tiffany's bottom lip tremble. "Hey, w-what's wrong? What did I say?" He panicked slightly, but still pulled her into a tight hug.

Suddenly, Tiffany didn't care that Steve was about to see her cry. She felt more relaxed than she had in days. She was running off of minimal sleep and her head was all over the place and Steve's embrace was the straw that broke the camel's back. She buried her head in his chest and fought to control her breathing. All Steve could do was hold her, unsure of why she was crying. Selfishly, it didn't matter much to him why he was holding her—at the moment, he only cared that he was able to without any sideways glances, or rumors that they were together—without having to worry about hurting Jack or Nancy's feelings. Nancy...he thought to himself. He slowly pulled back, fearing that if he didn't, he wouldn't.

Tiffany straightened her posture a little, wiping away the tears under her eyes. Feeling vulnerable was not her strong suit, yet there she was. "Jack, uh, Jack cheated on me." She felt the need to defend her emotions. "I-I went to see him after Mallory fell asleep. I was going to tell him everything—why I've been acting crazy today and why I've been blowing him off. When I climbed in his window, Shannon Grey was in his bed." She spat the girl's name.

"Shannon Grey?" Tiffany nodded. "The same Shannon Grey that put a frog down down your shorts in third grade?"

"Yes, Steve, that Shannon Grey." She grew irritated at the reminder. "Anyway, I'm sorry for unloading all of that on you."

"Don't be sorry," he objected. "For the record, though, he's an idiot for cheating on you."

"I know."

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It was gearing up on eleven at night when the rain finally came to a dead stop. Steve loaded up a pair of jumper cables and they drove back to where her car was sitting.

Tiffany stood a couple of feet away from him as he connected the cables. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Yes, I know what I'm doing," he insisted. "If my dad taught me nothing else, he taught me how to use jumper cables and how to change a tire."

Much to her surprise, he wasn't wrong. He had her car started within minutes. "Well aren't you just a big bag of surprises," she teased, looking up at him. Her amused grin slowly faded from her face, into a look much more serious. "Thanks, though. For...listening to my rambling and saving me from my car problems again."

"Thanks for letting me see you in that dress," he joked, earning a shove. He grabbed her arm mid-shove and pulled her into a short hug—one not long enough that any passersby—even if it was eleven at night—would find intimate. "Hey, uh, I was thinking about having a little get together tomorrow night," he quickly changed the subject. "Nothing big, just a few friends."

"As long as Jack isn't there, I'm in," she smiled softly, but her voice was certain.

"I won't tell him if you won't."