chapter seven ♰ All the Right Moves

  Matt woke up with a violent jolt and a migraine. He was bathed in sweat and crashed out on the living room couch, still wearing his uniform. For a few disorientated moments, he boiled the headache, the raw throat and the temporary amnesia down to a hangover ━━ then, he felt a particularly dull throb to his temple and his hand shot there, callused fingertips prodding at a blooming bruise. He hissed, dropping his hand and staring round at the living room. The TV was off and Sydney wasn't in sight. Usually if Matt came home late from the bar, she'd put the TV on for him to have some white noise as he fell asleep and throw the crochet blanket over his body. But there was no television static, no crochet blanket, and no Sydney.

  "Sydney?!" bellowed Matt, rising off the couch with sore muscles and his head panging. "Syd! Syd, c'mon━━!"

  The telephone started blaring dulcet rings and Matt hit his knee against the coffee table as he staggered toward it. He groaned, clutching the stinging bone before hastily picking up the phone and slamming it to his ear.

  "Syd, is that you?"

  "It's me," grunted Hopper.

  Matt sighed disparagingly, pinching the bridge of his nose and sliding down the wall behind him. "Hop. 'Mind reminding me what happened yesterday?"

  "You being serious, McConnell?"

  "I remember... going to the morgue. And the body━━"

  "Yeah, it's not real," lamented Hopper sullenly. "Do you remember anything after that?"

  Matt wracked his brain, but it felt like styrofoam in there. Skull being crushed inwards around gooey grey matter, splinters of bone cutting into where all of his memories were stored. He didn't remember anything after the morgue. Him and Hopper beat up that cop who found Will Byers in the quarry until he was a bloody, bruised pulp with a fractured rib or two. And then they broke into the morgue after finding out the town coroner had been replaced by a man from state. The last thing Matt remembered was Hopper dissecting that kid's jaundiced body and finding no organ or muscle or even blood ━━ just cottonwool.

  "No," said Matt. "I don't."

  Hopper made a disgruntled sound. "We broke into the lab. And ... we found ... something. Fuck, Matt, I dunno how to describe it, it was like ━━"

  Maybe it was Hopper talking about it again, but a picture fizzled to mind, simmering at the edges like a burning photograph. They had found themselves in a room overgrown with amorphous, organic matter, unfurling into some sort of gate. Biologic branches twisted up onto ceiling and it looked like thing had a heartbeat, like it was alive. Before they could go into it, agents in hazmat suits stormed the room and Matt took the hilt of a shotgun to the cranium.

  "Yeah, I remember now," interjected Matt hoarsely. "Fuck. What the fuck was that, Jim?"

  "Hell if I know..." he muttered darkly. "Listen, check your place for bugs, OK? I found mine in a light, and ━━"

  Matt scrambled to his feet, looking round frantically. "Bugs? Hop, my daughter lives here! You're telling me the fucking government have bugged my house where my kid lives?"

  "Shut it, they could be listening, you moron!" seethed Hopper. "What part of a bug do you not get?"

  "Right..." said Matt. "Well, what am I meant to tell Sydney?"

  "Nothing."

  Matt's face fell, appalled. "Nothing? Jim, she's my kid."

  "Exactly," said Hopper bluntly. "You don't want her getting caught up in this. Keep your daughter safe, McConnell. And don't tell her about this. At least until we actually figure out what 'this' is. And find that fucking bug."

  "Then what? What do we do next?"

  Hopper paused, his breathing coming out in heavy pants over the phone. "We tell Joyce."

  As soon the line cut, Matt started ravaging the living room. He screwed light-bulbs off lamps and ripped up pillow-cases and tore the house upside down. Eventually, Matt was surrounded by shattered glass, feathers from mangled pillows and sat on his recliner holding a bludgeoned microphone he found in the ceiling lightbulb. 

  "What the hell?"

  Matt's neck snapped so fast in the direction of the voice that he nearly fractured a bone. "Sydney!"

  His daughter stood in the doorway of her room, donning a plain black dress, some Mary Janes and a mortified expression at the state of the living room. "Matt, what the hell happened here?"

  "Did anyone come by last night?" he asked frantically, getting up from the armchair. "Anyone from government?"

  "Matt, what's going on?"

  Matt grabbed her shoulders and started scrutinising her perturbed face for any wounds, but there wasn't a cut, bruise or mar in sight. Just horror. "You're alright," he said breathlessly. He yanked her in for a hug, squeezing her tight. "You're alright."

  Sydney awkwardly patted his back. "Yeah, I'm good, Matt. Are you?"

  "Me?" he wheezed. "Oh, 'm great." 

  "Y'sure?" she laughed weakly, pulling back. "You've somehow managed to make the place look worse than usual. And you're ━━"

  The politest word Sydney could think of describe him was dishevelled. His hair was all over the place, strands unruly and sticking out, dampened by sweat. He also had patches under his armpits on the thin material of his plaid shirt, and what looked like a blood stain on his shoulder. Most concerning of all was the bruise on his temple, yellowing around a gnarly cut which was smothered with dried blood. 

  "You're hurt," said Sydney, frowning. "Matt, tell me what's wrong."

  Matt shook his head. "Nothing, kid. Nothing. I'm just glad you're safe." When all Sydney did was give him a reluctant nod, Matt scratched his neck and gestured at her outfit. "I see you're ready for the funeral."

  Matt wanted desperately to tell her that Will Byers most likely wasn't dead at all ━━ the corpse she'd see lowered six feet into the earth was nothing but taxidermy. A government ploy. But Hopper was right to advise him against it ━━ it would just endanger her if she knew. And Matt had ruined his daughter's life enough without threatening it. 

  "I hate funerals," Sydney muttered bitterly, looking down at the Mary Janes.

  Granted, she'd been to only three before Will's. Both of her grandmothers, and Christine's. But that was enough for her to lament that they were depressing ordeals. The harrowed eulogies and the pastor's proverbs and the black and the awaiting grave.

  Her first funeral was for Matt's mother ━━ Victoria. She had died of cancer, and Sydney had never really known her. She had been 9, and didn't really understand why she was there. Her mother had dressed her up like the doll she was into a black dress with lace, and Sydney would always vividly remember the stigmata fumes strangling her lungs in the front of the church pews. She had been sat awkwardly between Christine and Matt ━━ a bit like a satellite state. It was one of the first times she had actually been in a room with Matt. He had been silently crying all the way through the service and he didn't really speak to Chris, or to Sydney ━━ not until the wake afterwards. He was slurring over his grief and whiskey, drunkenly hugging Chris and thanking her coming, kissing her clenched jawline for what was most likely the last time.

  Sydney would also never forget what her mother said to him in response. I came for your Victoria, not for you, she had seethed, before storming off to grab herself a glass of wine. Sydney, numb, had stood alongside her stranger of a father and he had looked down at her with grief-stricken eyes and told her she was somewhat named after his dead mother. They were both cities in Australia ━━ Victoria and Sydney. Then, Matt had smiled painfully and staggered off to spend the rest of the wake drinking himself sick with Jim Hopper.

  The second had been for Christine's mother. Sydney had known Adelaide Sommers slightly better than Victoria McConnell. Adelaide was mean old woman ━━ curmudgeonly and bitter about the world, and about her daughter. Christine was meant to go to Harvard, just like her father did. She wasn't meant to have Sydney at 17 and maim everything that Adelaide had planned. But Adelaide had been around despite her grudge. Always there with cheques over the holidays and a brittle demeanour. Until, of course, the acrimony got to her and she died a lonely death in that big, barren house of hers.

  Matt had been a tortured man when burying his mother. Sydney genuinely didn't even see Christine shed a single tear.

  And for so many years, Sydney thought that made her mother a monster. Some kind of apathetic machine. But then Christine died and she understood. Sydney had cried, but not at the funeral. At the funeral, she just felt as though she was under general anaesthetic and hallucinating the entire service. A swathe of black-adorned mourners had come to solemnly shake her hand and talk about how remarkable Chris was, but Sydney had just nodded stiffly along. Funerals felt like outer-body experiences. 

  "I didn't think I'd be going to another one so soon," she said. "Least of all a 12-year-old boy's."

  Matt smiled gravely ━━ he should tell her. This wasn't a funeral for Will Byers. This was the burying of a waxen doll stuffed with cottonwool disposed in the quarry to make people stop looking. Matt wanted to tell her that he wouldn't stop looking. But he couldn't.

  "I know, Syd," he said grimly, instead of the truth. "Hey, I gotta get dressed but then I'll drive us to the church, OK?"

  Sydney mustered a little smile. "Yeah."

  Matt showered off the veneer of sweat and actually bothered to wash his hair. He even combed it. He only actually owned one good suit ━━ it was the very same he wore for Chris's. It was his funeral suit. All he could think about was that mouth in the wall with the veinlike branches in Hawkins Lab, snaking across the walls and smothering the ceiling. And the body. A marionette cut off its strings.

  The church service was sombre. Joyce Byers didn't make a eulogy. She just sat there looking like a ghost in the front pew, unmoving. Lonnie Byers did, instead. It was hollow of any feeling ━━ he barely knew Will. He spoke about how much of a good kid he was, but everyone knew that. Lonnie didn't know his son. As Sydney listened to the slurring voice of the absent father, Lonnie not once sparing a glance at the coffin behind him at the alter, it hit her viscerally. Matt wouldn't talk like this at her funeral. Like Lonnie, Matt hadn't been there for years. But Matt knew her better than Lonnie knew Will. 

  She noticed something else, too. On the second pew, behind Will's splintered family ━━ a haunting of a mother, Jonathan impassive and reticent, and a half-drunk father ━━ was the kids. Mike, Lucas, Dustin. And, to her surprise, none of them looked upset. They were whispering avidly amidst each other throughout the entire service, even as the congregation moved to the cemetery for the burial. Instead of being strangled with grief, they were grinning enthusiastically to each other. As if it wasn't their best friend's funeral. As if Will wasn't dead.

  As Sydney's heels crunched over the fallen, crisp leaves littering the graveyard, she felt someone's shoulder brush hers.

  "Miserable, huh?"

  Sydney looked up at Toby and felt her heart flood with warmth. She threw her arms round his broad shoulders and hugged him so tightly she feared she might puncture a lung. But Toby hugged her back just as firmly. Arms wrapping around her waist, his fingers absently playing with the ends of her hair. He subconsciously breathed her in ━━ manuka honey and shea butter and everything Sydney. 

  "I'm sorry I haven't spoke to you much since..." Since they saw Will's body be recovered from the quarry.

  Toby shook his head against her neck. "No. We deal with shit differently, it's OK." 

  "But you knew him more than I did."

  "I don't care," said Toby, untangling their arms and moving to cradle her face. Sydney looked up at him, expression indiscernible. His fingertips were slightly rough from calluses ━━ thanks to the bass strings of a bass guitar and working at a mechanics ━━ but his touch was nothing but gentle as his thumbs moved along her jawline. "I was worried about you. Especially today ━━ with Chris, and ━━"

  Sydney winced. "I don't want to talk about Mom today." 

  "I'm sorry," he mumbled, one of his thumbs sweeping over her cheekbone. It felt damp, like she had been crying in the church. Toby frowned and leaned down to kiss her forehead. Sydney's eyes fluttered shut as she lost a bit of strength in her legs, slanting into him slightly. "C'mon."

  When Sydney glanced down again, Toby was offering out his calloused hand for her. She realised things between them hadn't changed drastically. Things had evolved. People aren't stagnant. Neither are relationships. They shift and grow, just like humans do ━━ just as organs fail, bones break, ligaments tear and skin gets old with wrinkles, relationships can get sick and can splinter and can heal and can die. Maybe things weren't like they used to be with Toby ━━ innocent and platonic. Maybe they got lost in translation amongst all the grief. Losing Christine had severed something, or maybe allowed something to bloom. Violent and beautiful and menacing. 

  Sydney laced her fingers with his and let him walk her over to where the rest of the mourners were gathered round Will Byers' hollow grave and lonely headstone. The pastor was already in the midst of reciting a biblical parable that defended God's infallibility ━━ despite all the innocents he lets die. Sydney had lost any religion she had left in her pagan bones after she saw Christine's corpse on a silver table in a morgue ━━ the entire place reeking of cadaverine. She decided there couldn't be a god if she was left to rot as her mother's corpse did the same. A motherless girl who lost any sense of faith or hope. No amount of pastors' fanaticism and allegories could ever restore what she lost when she was stood in this very cemetery ten months ago with her mother's grave at her feet. 

  "Fear not, for I am with you," said Pastor Charles, reading from his holy scriptures zealously. "Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. Yes, I will help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. It's times like these that our faith is challenged. How, if He is truly benevolent... could God take from us someone so young, so innocent? It would be easy to turn away from God, but we must remember that nothing, not even tragedy, can separate us from His love."

  Sydney felt something sacrilegious curl around her heart, a heathen snake with venom and fangs that wanted to say something so profane God would smite her where she stood. Tragedy separated her from the love of God ━━ it also severed her from the love of Mother. 

  "The kids seem to be handling it well," Toby mused in a low whisper, his lips dangerously close to Sydney's ear as he nodded over to where Mike, Lucas and Dustin were stood.

  They were giggling at something together, until Mrs Wheelers nudged Mike beratingly and the three of them closed their mouths into wry, mischievous grins. Sydney didn't understand them at all. 

  "Maybe it's, like, a coping mechanism..." she suggested weakly.

  "Maybe." 

  Once the pastor finished his testimonial, they lowered the coffin into the earth. White roses were tossed onto the polished wood and handfuls of dirt were pitched atop. Sydney briefly left Toby's side and delicately put her hand on Joyce's shoulder. The woman looked absolutely catatonic ━━ as though she was stood in an icy, apathetic tundra. She jolted as soon as she felt Sydney's touch, shuddering.

  "Oh, Sydney...it's you," she said halfheartedly.

  Sydney grimaced ━━ she felt like every time she spoke to Joyce Byers recently, the woman's tone was disappointed and heavy. "Yeah... I just wanted to ━━ I dunno. I bet you've had enough condolences. How are you feeling?"

  "Well, you know."

  "I think I do," said Sydney. In her periphery, she could see the corner of the cemetery where her mother was buried. "But no one will ever really know. Not like you do." 

  Joyce nodded numbly. "Yeah." 

  "I'm sorry for bothering you," muttered Sydney, going to leave.

  "No, you ━━ Sydney, you could never bother me." With an earnest smile, Joyce squeezed Sydney's elbow. "Thank you. For coming, and for ━━ for being a good kid. You would've made a great babysitter." 

  Despite herself, Sydney laughed. "Yeah... I'm sorry I never got the chance." 

  Joyce embraced Sydney in a bone-crushing hug. Her ribcage cringed at it, but she could tell the woman needed it. And maybe Sydney did too. So much shit had happened the past week her brain was starting to disintegrate into ash like a charred cigarette. She felt the woman sweep her lips chastely against her cheekbone when she pulled back, and Joyce pinched her cheek weakly before letting Lonnie guide her away with an aloof hand on the small of her back.

  Sydney had been traipsing after the amass of mourners, the church bell toll across the dried grass and fallen leaves, when she was ambushed by Nancy Wheeler yanking her down behind the iron-wrought bars of somebody's grave.

  Sydney yelped as her knees bruisingly hit the ground, probably dirtying the knee socks she had on. 

  "Nance, what the ━━" Bewildered, Sydney registered Jonathan and Toby crouched down with Nancy behind the headstone, too. "What the fuck is this?"

  "Listen, Sydney, what we saw the other day in Steve's backyard ━━"

  Sydney's stomach fell. "No, no. No way. I've suppressed all memory of that thing."

  "Sydney," said Toby, narrowing his eyes.

  "What?" she hissed scathingly. "You said it was a fucking bear!"

  "Yeah, well, we know it's not," snapped Jonathan. 

  "I must've missed the memo," said Sydney, glaring at him, "when did he get forgiven for being a total perv?" 

  Nancy winced. "We're not here to talk about that. We're here to talk about this."

  She brandished out her sylphlike arm, exhibiting a blurred, enhanced photograph. It took Sydney a second to distinguish what Nancy was showing her, but with a squint she discerned it immediately. The gangly, jaundiced limbs and the featureless face. It was the same creature they saw in Steve's backyard. Tall, thin, gunmetal-grey, faceless.

  "That's it," asserted Toby. "That's the thing."

  Sydney felt dizzy. "Demogorgon." 

  "You said that last time," said Nancy fervently. "What's it mean?"

  "Just something from that game the kids play," mumbled Sydney. "It's like... this monster." 

  Jonathan started rummaging in the depths of his trouser pockets and retrieved what looked like a map of the town. Sydney leaned over his shoulder, scrutinising the red X's marked on the thin paper. 

  "Is this where It's been?" she asked.

  Nancy nodded grimly, and pointed at the first X. "So, that's ━━"

  "Steve's house," said Jonathan. He then skimmed to the next marking. "And that's the woods where they found Will's bike and... that's my house."

  "It's all so close," marvelled Nancy.

  "Yeah. Exactly." Jonathan kept glancing up at Nancy, not really sparing looks at Sydney or Toby, who were on either side of the pair. "I mean, it's all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is, it's...it's not travelling far."

  "Well, its like pursuit predation, right?" 

  Sydney, Nancy and Jonathan all turned to Toby with blank expressions. 

  He rolled his eyes, readjusting how he was crouched next to Nancy and holding onto the steel pillar behind him for support. "When a predator finds its prey, it'll stalk it slowly but persistently wear it down physically. Like, whip them up into a frenzy until fatigue just wears it down. This thing ━━ it doesn't really have a specific prey. It went for Will and Barb, right? Where's the connection there? It's targeting an area. Pursuit predation ━━ it's persistent."

  Sydney gaped at him for a moment, a weird feeling convulsing her guts. "Sometimes I forget how smart you are."

  "How do you even know all that?" asked Nancy, equally as impressed.

  "Uh..." he scratched his neck abashedly, "I want to be a vet, I guess?"

  "Can we discuss future aspirations later?" said Jonathan. "If it isn't travelling far, that means we can track it down." 

  "You want to go out there," stated Nancy, brows pinching together.

  "We might not find anything."

  "We found something," retorted Nancy, looking round at Sydney and Toby, who both suddenly looked very grim and surly. "And if we do see it ━━ then what?"

  Jonathan sighed dejectedly, gazing off to where the crowd were dispersing. Some into their cars to return home, others in the direction of the function hall they rented out for Will's wake. He thought about his mother ━━ how he screamed at her for being crazy and destroying the wall of their house. 

  He then looked back at the little mismatched group of so-called monster hunters ━━ somehow, he had amassed Nancy Wheeler, Sydney Sommers and Toby Stanfield into helping him track down a faceless creature. If they were going to do this ━━ the fractured, unexpected group they were ━━ they were doing it right. 

  His expression got very resolute, and his tone just as determined. "We kill it."

After Jonathan broke into his own father's car to steal a revolver and a box of bullets, they group parted ways to get themselves together before tracking down the 'thing', as they had started to call it. Sydney had preferred the term 'Demogorgon', but calling it that introduced the risk of Nancy figuring out that Sydney had known this entire time that Mike had some involvement in the tumult. Plus, that meant confronting the other elephant in the room ━━ Eleven. She had enough going on without thinking too much about the telepathic refugee on Maple Street. 

  Toby had a spare change of clothes at Sydney's place, so they went there instead of making two separate journeys. She got herself into a pair of mom jeans and a cableknit sweater, Toby's outfit not far off the same. Matt hadn't even seem freaked out when Sydney told him not to wait up for her ━━ if anything, he seemed glad that she would be out of the house. He awkwardly gave Toby the mock-stern monologue about taking care of his daughter and then sent them vehemently on their way. 

  On the way to pick Nancy up from her house, Toby asked Sydney the dreaded question that had been mulling her brain ever since Nancy showed them that photo.

  "Do you think this means that Will might be alive?"

  "I don't even know," she said earnestly. "If this thing exists, then anything's possible, right?"

  Toby nodded. "Right. Hey ━━ are you ever gonna tell me who that girl was the other night? With the kids?"

  Sydney paled, throat tightening. "What girl?"

  "Don't play dumb. The bald one." 

  "Ah, uh ━━ yeah, she's... Mike's cousin?" stammered Sydney.

  "Mike's cousin?" echoed Toby dryly.

  "Yep. Mike's cousin!" 

  Toby scoffed, shaking his head at her. "Whatever you say, Syd." 

  She felt guilt effervesce in the pit of her belly, but didn't let it control her. Not even when it churned like bile in her throat. Whatever Eleven had going on wasn't her business. She had been desperately trying to suppress every thought of the troubled girl ever since encountering her. She figured that denial was the best way around bizarre shit ━━ ignorance is bliss, as they say. And Eleven ... she was pretty fucking bizarre. 

  As soon as they parked outside Nancy's perfect suburban house, Toby started to honk the horn. 

  "Is that... Steve Harrington's car?" he asked, leaning over his steering-wheel and squinting at the burgundy BMW parked ahead of his.

  Sydney felt sick again. For a moment, she was back in that vacant classroom and she could feel Steve's breath fan against her cheek. He was talking lowly with her, maybe even flirting. And Sydney might've flirted back. It had felt wrong then, but afterwards ━━ when she stumbled out of the room feeling asphyxiated and drunk ━━ it felt sinful. Like she shouldn't ever speak with him again. A feat she wasn't sure she'd be able to uphold for long, though. 

  "Of course it is..." she mumbled. "I'm gonna go tell Nance to hurry up."

  Sydney unbuckled her seatbelt, and ignored Toby's protest as she cranked open the passenger door and started jogging down the path towards the open garage door. Just her luck, she caught Steve on his way out.

  "Just take those old records off the shelf, I sit and listen to them by my━━ Sydney!"

  Steve looked just as mortified as she felt.

  "Uh, hey." Sydney swallowed thickly, glancing around him at Nancy, now clad in a peony sherpa coat and wielding a baseball bat. "I just ━━ came for Nancy."

  "Nancy," echoed Steve. 

  Sydney nodded. "Uh-huh."

  "Yeah, that's why I came to, uhhh ━━ just to see if she wanted to hit the movies, y'know," rambled Steve. "All the Right Moves is still showing."

  "Oh. Cool."

  Sydney loved that movie.

  "Yeah, but she's busy, so ━━"

  "Sydney's not!" exclaimed Nancy. Sydney's eyes widened, glancing at Nancy in absolute horror. Nancy winced, trying to convey an apology through a contorted smile and an awkward shrug. 

  "She's... not?" said Steve, looking at Sydney with an unreadable expression.

  "Yeah, uh, she can go to the movies with you," offered Nancy clumsily. "Won't you, Sydney?" 

  "I, uhhh..."

  Steve's brows furrowed inwardly. "It's cool. Don't sweat it, Sydney. Nance, it's OK."

  "No!" shouted Nancy, faltering. Steve and Sydney exchanged frightened stares before fixing back on Nancy. "Listen, Steve, go wait for her in the car, alright? I've just gotta speak with Sydney for a sec."

  "But ━━"

  "Please?"

  Steve turned to Sydney, eyes fleeting over her chagrined expression and frowning when she didn't meet his gaze. "Yeah... alright." 

  He stalked off towards his car, leaving the two girls alone in the garage. Sydney was seething, storming over to Nancy with a glare and her heart pounding belligerently against her ribs.

  "What the hell was that?" she asked scathingly. 

  "Sydney, you need to distract him." 

  Sydney's glare deepened. "What? Why me?"

  "Because he likes you!" said Nancy. Sydney's heart plummeted. "I mean ━━ more than Jonathan and Toby, anyways. And if he has a really bad habit of knocking on my bedroom window when I tell him no. So, please ━━ just keep him occupied? Just for a few hours."

  "So you lot, what? Get to go monster hunting, and I'm stuck on Steve duty?" demanded Sydney. 

  Nancy threw her arms up disparagingly. "C'mon, Sydney! You and Steve are friends, right?"

  Sydney wavered. "I wouldn't call us friends."

  "I think he would," remarked Nancy. 

  "Nance, I really don't think it's a good idea ━━"

  "Why?" Nancy interjected, raising a brow. "Give me one good reason why you can't spend a few hours with Steve, and I'll let you off." 

  Hesitating, Sydney's throat got all constricted and taut. What could she say to that? That the last time her and Steve were in a room alone together, Sydney genuinely felt like she needed an hour long shower to scrub at her skin till it was blistery and red just so she could forget how his touch felt ━━ even through fabric? That Sydney, for a shameful, illicit, ugly moment, considered kissing Steve? Even though he was dating the very girl who was trying to convince who to go watch a movie with him ━━ in a dark, intimate room?

  "See," said Nancy, simpering. "Now, go. He might leave."

  "What that be so terrible?" Sydney muttered grudgingly. 

  When she trudged down the path back to where Toby and Steve's cars were adjacently parked, Toby perked up in the driver's seat when he noticed that she wasn't walking towards his, but Steve's instead. He gave her a horrified, confused look through the open window, but Sydney just shrugged her shoulders helplessly. She moved round the front of Steve's car, ignoring how his gaze lingered on her as she did so, and slipped into the passenger seat with a barely contained sigh of disgruntlement. 

   Steve swallowed thickly, turning to her and not failing to notice her discomfort as she shifted round in the chair and avoided his eyes. He resented how palpably she didn't want to be there ━━ with him. Selfishly, he wished she'd at least pretend to tolerate him. Instead, Sydney looked physically repulsed. Like she was experiencing severe nausea just by being in breathing vicinity of him. How much of a fucking idiot must he have been to think that yesterday's moment in the classroom meant anything to her? 

   Just because Steve couldn't forget about how strongly she smelt of manuka honey, and how pretty she was when she smiled, and how sharp her wit was, it didn't mean it mattered the same to Sydney. Honestly, the more he thought about it, the more he reckoned it had been another one of the games she played on him ━━ taunting and mocking and manipulating his emotions to make him feel humiliated. 

   "So, where to?" Steve asked awkwardly. 

   "The movies, I guess."

   Steve nodded, switching his keys in the ignition. "The movies it is."