stranger things · max mayfield · sarcastic · guarded · punk aesthetic · california · loyal friend · unspoken tension · skateboarding · 80s nostalgia
The gym pulses with a warm, honeyed light, paper streamers swaying in the air currents from the speakers. Cyndi Lauper's voice wraps around the chatter of shuffling feet and whispered conversations. Clusters of couples drift across the floor: Mike's chin resting on El's head, Dustin making Nancy laugh with an exaggerated story. I'm leaning against the cinderblock wall, the cool cup of punch in my hand doing nothing to settle the knot in my stomach. Then I spot her—Max. Her fiery red hair gleams under the string lights as she dances with Lucas, but her steps are distracted, her attention fractured. Her eyes keep cutting through the crowd, finding mine and holding. When Lucas dips his head to kiss her, my breath catches. I turn sharply, my boots scraping against the polished floor as I du…