Archive of Our Own

Steve Harrington didn’t consider himself the smartest man. In fact, he knew he wasn't. But it didn’t bother him much because he wasn’t the absolute dumbest either. According to his own assessment, he moved somewhere in the middle of the scale, and it helped a lot that he had best friends whom he had to keep up with, which forced some things to stick to him. The same applied to his emotional intelligence, though he felt he wasn’t as far behind there as he was with book smarts. He was good at reading people. He knew the obvious signs of emotions and their meanings through facial expressions and body language. Especially those who belonged to his inner circle. Those who were important to him. Perhaps it was an internal compulsion stemming from his shitty childhood, wanting to know them as well as possible, knowing how far he could go so he wouldn’t risk them getting fed up with him.

Some higher power, seeing his crappy love life and even crappier family life, must have taken pity on him, because it gave him a best friend who never got fed up with him. They worked together, then slept over at each other's places after work, or if not, they talked on the phone for hours, spent entire days driving around on weekends, singing at the top of their lungs in the car, and in one very memorable case, ended up at a convenience store at 2:00 AM for milk and cereal. So yes, he was unlucky in love, but in friendship? Never.

That same higher power probably hated him with all its heart too, for giving him a best friend like her. Because she was everything a man looks for in a woman. She was perfect in her own imperfect way. She read him like no one ever had. She cared for him like no one ever had. She bandaged his wounds and held him in the dark. And Steve loved her. He loved his best friend. And it killed him a little every day because he could never love her more than a best friend. He could never show her how deep his love really was. He could never hold her hand as if he never wanted to let go. He could never tell her that even though he had woken up next to so many different women, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He could never tell her that sometimes he loses focus while she’s talking simply because he gets lost in her eyes. And Steve knew it was one of the cheesiest things he had ever thought, but he knew it was true. Robin's eyes were like the sky and changed right along with it. When the sun shone brightly, they were a very light blue, but if clouds covered the sky, they were almost gray. He was completely captivated by them, and he often wished he could stare at them long enough to count every shade of blue in them.

And how did he balance between reality and his desires? Well, mostly like he was on a roller coaster. He was painfully careful never to treat Robin as anything other than what she was. He made no ambiguous remarks. He supported every effort she made concerning girls. He never hugged her while they slept, even if every muscle in his body screamed for it. He didn't stare at the curves of her body or her neckline when she leaned over for something. Or rather, not when anyone could notice. The nights spent alone were different, of course. His thoughts wandered, and although he always did this with a slight sense of guilt, he couldn't control himself. Because despite the dates every Saturday, that extra something was never there. That loud, carefree laughter that was uniquely Robin's was never there. That sarcastic but affectionate lecturing, which Steve always knew indicated her care, was never there. That constant back-and-forth between them, which meant the world to him because he simply knew that he mattered. He mattered to someone. It mattered to her whether he ate regularly, whether he slept well, or if he slept at all, what was on his mind when he fell into silence... It was the kind of attention he hadn't received many times in his life. Not from his "friends" he’d known since kindergarten, not from Nancy when she was his girlfriend, because somehow her attention was always fixed on the distance, and he won’t even mention his parents, even if his mother had her moments sometimes, but the truth was always that Steve’s father mattered more to her than Steve himself. So yes, he would do anything to keep this woman in his life. But not just for the things he received from her, but because he wanted to reciprocate them. All of them. And he did, whenever he had the chance. Without crossing the line, of course. He bought her favorite coffee, he chose the movies they watched together, he practically became her personal chauffeur, and naturally, he held her tight when nightmares reached Robin too and she happened to be sleeping at his place. She didn't talk much about them, but if Steve had to guess, he would have said they were mostly about him, because at those times she would hold his face between her hands and examine him as if he were still wounded.

"In time, he will learn not to love her."

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. And there were times when he even believed it. Like when they were hunting Vecna in the Upside Down by Nancy's side. But those moments didn't last long, because when the vines caught Robin... then he didn't care about Vecna, and definitely not about Nancy. Only about getting those damn vines off Robin's neck. So yes, self-delusion only worked for so long.

Steve shook his head to break the train of thought that he didn't even know where it started. He caught sight of Robin sitting cross-legged on the floor, organizing some records in the WSQK building. For some time, they had designated the place as their unofficial "headquarters." Nancy mentioned that maybe they should continue the broadcasting too, so they could even send coded messages to each other. It wasn’t a bad idea, but so far, it hadn't become more than that.

Neither Robin, nor Nancy, nor even Jonathan planned to start university in the autumn, although they had picked up their high school diplomas last week. Robin didn't participate in the graduation ceremony. Her public reason was that there was no point since her family wasn't even in town anymore, but she told Steve the truth that night. That maybe it was stupid because she barely knew him, but she didn't want to participate without Eddie. Steve, of course, assured her it wasn't stupid at all to feel that way. That he himself would do anything to bring the man back because he felt he had misjudged him for a long time and thought they could have been close friends for years. So that night they didn't celebrate loudly like so many others, but shared a beer and drank to Eddie.

— What are you doing Saturday night? — asked Steve as he sat down on the floor next to Robin.

They were the only two in the building; somehow everyone had something to do somewhere, or were busy fixing something to get the station running. The record Robin had been turning in her hands stopped. She bit her lower lip slightly and didn't look at Steve. Slight guilt. Most of the time, Steve knew how to read Robin. In fact, he probably knew her best of all. He had spent so much time in her company that he knew her body language almost better than his own.

— Actually, — Robin began, still not looking at the man, — I have a date on Saturday night. —

Steve nodded slowly. That was a perfectly fine and acceptable explanation, so why the guilt? Robin knew nothing about the torment he generally felt, so that couldn't be the reason. Steve was always the one who clapped the loudest whenever Robin felt any kind of progress regarding girls. Though it was also true that he had no competition in the cheering department.

— Oh... but that's great, Robin! — he replied, making sure his smile reached not just his ears but his eyes as he playfully nudged her shoulder. — Who’s the lucky lady? —

And there it was again. The guilt. The way she compressed her lips and looked away into the corner.

— Peter. — she said then, so quietly that Steve could barely hear it. — Peter Halper. —

— Peter is a rather strange name for a girl, isn't it? — Steve joked. Because this could only be a joke. Robin doesn't date men. Ever. After all, she had rejected him too. Rejected him because he wasn't fucking Tammy Thompson.

— That’s because he isn’t a girl. — Robin sighed.

— This isn't one of those "I'm dating a man to hide my sexuality" things, right? — it occurred to Steve, having read about such things in a magazine once. But Robin just shook her head in annoyance.

— I would never do that! — she said defiantly, and Steve believed her, because Robin would never lie to him.

— It’s simply that, — her voice softened again, — I'm interested, you know? I was surprised too that I’m curious about what it’s like with a man, but I’m interested, okay? So when I ran into Peter at the store and he asked me out, I said yes. — she explained, starting to spin the record between her hands again, — We were in geography together and he seems like a decent guy, so I thought maybe he could be good... —

Steve didn't speak, just looked at her. Peter might be good? For what? To experiment? He might be good when Steve Harrington is sitting right here next to her, more than happy to show her what a man's devotion means? He bit the inside of his cheek.

— Uh, I see, I guess, — he replied, though he couldn't stop frowning. He wasn't lying, he understood. Robin was an 18-year-old girl. Who had always been into girls until now, but the thought crossed her mind to try out if she could fall for a guy. Honestly, he really did understand. Steve had always considered sexuality a fluid thing; there was nothing wrong with her trying other things. That wasn't why he was frowning.

Peter... Peter... Peter...

Why not him?

The question exploded in his chest. Why didn't she choose him? Why didn't she tell him if she had such thoughts? Or did she actually like the guy?

The last question squeezed his chest even tighter. Because if Robin liked a guy who wasn't him, then maybe the problem had been with him all along? Steve forced himself to stop these thoughts. Robin had barely said anything yet.

— And do you like him? — he asked finally.

— Uh, I don't think so, I don't know, — Robin answered uncertainly. — He's a decent guy, you know. Actually, we’ve always had pretty good conversations, even at the store, you know, he works there. — she added incidentally. — He said he’s always liked me, and since we’re locked in anyway and I have nothing better to do on Saturday, we might as well go to dinner. —

— But you're not forcing this whole thing on yourself, are you? — Steve asked, almost frightened now. But Robin shook her head.

— No. For a while... for a couple of months, the thought has been crossing my mind, or maybe I find certain masculine traits a bit more attractive than I ever would have thought before, so I figured I’d give it a chance. — she spoke softly, as if this were something she was ashamed of, or at least hadn't fully decided what to do with.

Steve nodded. It was still completely understandable even if it tore his insides apart. So Robin had been daydreaming about such things for MONTHS and he hadn't even noticed. Because Robin had never mentioned it to him. To him. To whom she supposedly told everything. But Steve felt he knew the answer.

Because while he wasn't the smartest, he wasn't the dumbest either. And he read Robin like he read himself.

She didn't tell him because Steve, as a man, did not interest her. She didn't like him that way, she didn't desire him the way a woman desires a man. Because Robin didn't want to kiss him as desperately as he wanted to kiss her. Simply no. Even if Robin discovered she could imagine herself with a man, that man still wouldn't be Steve.

And it hurt like hell.

— I think that’s... — Steve began finally, because as Robin looked into his face, he saw she was waiting for something from him, perhaps confirmation. — That’s cool. I mean, really cool. — He forced cheerfulness upon himself. Because even if his heart was cracking right now, he couldn't bear to disappoint her.

— Do you really think so? — she asked.

— Yes. If that’s really how you feel, you’re right to look into it. Never ignore your feelings. — he said firmly, despite having done exactly that for almost a year.

— Thank you, Steve. — Robin finally smiled with relief and squeezed his knee before standing up.

— Uh... Rob? Which store does the guy work at? Have I met him? — he asked casually.

— You know, the convenience store on Main Street. The all-night one. I don't think so, he started recently. — she replied before leaving the room.

~○~

— Um... Steve, you don't have to take me. I can get to the store quickly on my bike... — Will Byers said as they stepped out of the WSQK building.

— Come on, it’s no trouble at all, — replied the man as he opened the driver's side door and got in. — Besides, I need a few things myself. —

When Dustin mentioned they needed a few odds and ends from the convenience store, like heat-resistant glue and some wires, Will beat Steve to volunteering. Steve had almost resigned himself to it when Joyce started protesting vehemently—no, definitely not alone. So Steve offered a ride. What could have been a more perfect opportunity than to finally see this Peter? And help Will, of course. But he was mainly intrigued by the Peter thing.

— Alright, it's just a bit strange, you know... —

— Strange? — Steve snapped his head toward him, trying to pay attention to Will.

— Yeah, you know, you and me, we haven't really... I don't know... talked much until now. — Will didn't look at Steve, just stared out the window. Steve frowned.

— Well no, but well, you know, we’re still part of the same team anyway, so I thought... — he left the sentence unfinished at the end because he hadn't really thought it through. He saw an opportunity to see what this Peter was like. Honestly, if he’d had to take Jonathan to the store, he would have done it without a word too.

— Sure, but I didn't really think that, you know, you liked me or anything because— —

— Ohhh, hohoho, let’s stop right there! — Steve interrupted. — Why wouldn't I like you? You're a cool kid, don't talk nonsense. — He might not have seen clearly, but it seemed like Will smiled for a moment.

— It's just, you know, you and Jonathan don't exactly seem like you're on the same team. —

— Well, that's a fact. But you aren't your brother. If there is... friction between Jonathan and me, it doesn't affect you. — he explained, to which Will began to nod. If he thought about it, he really had the fewest points of connection with Will. He could recall at least one deep conversation with all the other kids, but not with him. And not because he didn't like him, he just hadn't seen the need. Will had Jonathan; he didn't need Steve to play big brother. He hadn't even thought that the boy would interpret this as him not liking him.

— Come on, mini Byers, — he said, stopping in the store's parking lot and killing the engine. — Let's get what Henderson needs. —

— Don't call me that. — replied Will, but he was smiling anyway.

~○~

In the store, they split up. Will soon disappeared among the shelves, while Steve wandered through the aisles near the register. There were few people in the store; the registers were empty. A single young guy stood behind the belt, and according to his name tag, he was indeed Peter. Steve's eyes scanned the man. And he had to conclude that he was a completely average, boring figure. His hair was dull, his eyes nondescript, his movements clunky... He was in no way good enough for Robin. Robin needs someone who appreciates how special she is. Who follows her tangled stories. Someone she can truly be herself with.

~ And then the question arises again ~ thought Steve as he walked between the aisles, ~ why this guy? What did he do to deserve a chance from a woman like Robin? ~

He knew he wasn't behaving rationally at all. He shouldn't be angry with the guy, and yet, he gripped the basket in his hand tighter and tighter. He had no reason to be angry with him or with Robin. But as he imagined this guy sitting across from Robin on Saturday...

He was jealous.

The realization was unexpected but completely clear. He was jealous of Gray Peter. How much deeper could he fall, being jealous of a guy like this? But it's not even the guy... it flashed through his mind. It's the opportunity. The opportunity he got on a fucking weekday morning while Robin was buying bread. And he doesn't even know how fucking lucky he was to be in the right place at the right time and to have asked at the right moment. He didn't even notice when Will stepped next to him again.

— I got everything. — the boy spoke suddenly. Steve didn't look at him, still scrutinizing the guy, and reluctantly admitted that his hair wasn't the worst he'd ever seen.

— Do you think that guy has better hair than me? — he asked, still not looking away from him.

— Um... — Will looked at the guy, then back at Steve, clearly not understanding the anger in the man's voice. — No. I don't think so. Yours is shinier. — He shrugged. Steve looked at him and began to nod with the most serious expression possible.

— Right? And it's definitely much softer... — he added firmly. — Come on! —

They started loading things onto the belt. Peter scanned them listlessly.

— Hello, Peter! — Steve greeted, and he couldn't help himself but used that old "King Steve" tone again, like when he was still convinced he was better than everyone. Well, now of course he knows that's not true, but maybe he’s a notch better than this Peter.

— Hello... — the guy greeted.

— Pretty monotonous work, huh? — he continued the small talk from the corner of his mouth.

— Yeah, man, don't even say it... It's not like there are too many opportunities in town right now... — Steve nodded.

— But there must be some perks, right? Some hot girls must wander in here, don't they? — Steve rolled his eyes at himself in his head. Heavens, to be such a jerk. But Peter just smiled.

— It happens. The other day I set up a date with a real beauty. — he said. Steve just nodded and tried to ignore the voice in his head encouraging him to grab the guy's shirt, pull him across the belt, and slam his head into the register—

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?!

He tried to organize his thoughts into a military line. Though it was a fact, Peter couldn't go on the date if he couldn't stand on his feet—

• THAT’S ENOUGH! * Good Grief! He had serious problems!

— Nice. — he replied then as he took out his wallet. — And where are you taking her? A lot of restaurants have closed since the lockdown. —

— You know, that little family restaurant by the park. Atmospheric, romantic. A good foundation for the evening. — the guy smiled, making Steve want to throw up. Will threw the things into a bag and was visibly ready to leave.

— Well then, — said Steve, — have fun on Saturday! — The guy thanked him, and then they left.

— I can't believe this, — he kept saying annoyedly as they walked to the car.

— Believe what? — Will asked as they got in.

— Going on a date with a guy like that. It's just totally bleh! — replied Steve while shaking his head and starting the engine.

— Who? —

— Robin. — replied the man. Shock was written all over Will's face.

— Your Robin? — he asked, making Steve laugh slightly.

— She’s not mine... — he replied more quietly.

~○~

Steve lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling as if an invisible giant were sitting on his chest. It was Thursday night. Two days. Only forty-eight hours separated him from the moment Gray Peter would take Robin to the Italian restaurant by the park. The thought had been taking shape in him for about half an hour. He wasn't proud of it, nor could he decide if he would actually do it, but as he imagined Robin laughing at someone else over her plate, Steve was done for. He took out his black leather notebook from the drawer, in which he hadn't actually written anything yet, but he always put it there if he gained a phone number from here or there.

— Just a date, Harrington. You’re not taking advantage of the girl, you take her to dinner, talk to her, look over at Robin’s table a few times to see if everything is okay, then take her home and say there’s no spark. — he muttered to himself, though his voice sounded more like persuasion than a fact.

He opened the notebook. Small slips of paper and receipts fell out one after another. Names blurred past his eyes, but he found a flaw in every one of them. Or rather, not a flaw... just that none of the names were Buckley.

Tiffany: The girl from the diner who wrote her number on the receipt. Talks too little.

Amy: The girl from the gas station. Too arrogant, plus has no sense of humor.

Linda: Steve had dated her a few times. There was nothing special about the girl. Plus they had slept together; she might misunderstand and want to go to a room. Although Steve was no prophet, he didn't think he would want any girl in his bed that night.

Candi: He remembered her; she worked at the cinema box office. She fumbled a bit much with the change, and when Steve asked if she liked the movie they’d screened last, Candi just said: "Well, the colors were pretty." Steve knew Candi wouldn't ask cross-questions. Candi wouldn't notice the tension in his shoulders, and she probably wouldn't even be suspicious if Steve stared silently at the back of the guy's neck at the opposite table for minutes.

He dialed.

— Hello? — a soft, slightly drawn-out voice answered.

— Hi, Candi! It’s Steve Harrington. From the other day at the cinema... you know, with the BMW. —

— Oh... Hi, Steve! — Candi's voice brightened but kept a comfortable slowness. — I remember. You were the one who couldn't decide whether to get salted or buttered popcorn and ended up getting both. —

— Exactly. You have a memory, Candi. — Steve smiled, although his stomach didn't stir at the compliment. — Listen, would you like to go to dinner on Saturday? I know a cool place by the park. —

— By the park? The view is very nice there. — answered the girl, drawing out the words. — I love the park. There are those ducks there, you know? Last time I saw one with a completely green head. I just watched it for minutes. They're so interesting. —

Steve leaned back on his bed with relief. Candi, who was capable of staring at a duck for minutes, would be perfect.

— I like ducks too, Candi. So Saturday at seven? —

— Uh-huh. Seven. Just don't take me to a movie afterward, because I always get sleepy in the dark if I eat a lot. —

— It's a deal. Just dinner. Bye, Candi. —

Steve hung up. Candi was kind. She really was. But Steve knew that during their conversation, the girl's face hadn't crossed his mind once, only the fact that the tables in the restaurant by the park were close enough to hear if Peter Halper was flirting with Robin.

— I'm sorry, Candi. — he muttered in his quiet room as he realized what he had done. He got a date with a girl as simple as the palm of his hand just so he could sit two tables away from the love of his life and watch her eat spaghetti with a boring guy.

— You're an idiot, Harrington. — he buried his face in his palms. — A jealous, pathetic idiot. —

But as he recalled Peter's smug face in the convenience store, his guilt was suppressed by something else. A stubborn, stinging determination. Because if Peter Halper thought this was going to be a smooth, romantic Saturday night, he was sorely mistaken. Steve Harrington would be there. And if Steve Harrington is there, there will be no peaceful dining.

~○~

Steve climbed the stairs of the Buckley house more slowly than usual. His palms were sweaty, and he would have loved to turn around, but his legs carried him forward on the familiar path. Robin had already asked him over an hour ago to help choose an outfit, but he could barely bring himself to come. When he entered Robin's room, the sight immediately hit him in the gut: clothes everywhere. On the bed, on the back of the chair, even a scarf hung from the lampshade.

— Finally! — Robin turned around, clutching a dark green dress to her chest. — I thought the Russians had kidnapped you on the way. Help me, because Peter is leaving for me in an hour, and I still look like a homeless person who just fell out of a thrift store. —

Steve sat down on the only empty corner of the bed. He tried to look casual, but his body was as tense as a string.

— Peter will come ten minutes early. You can tell he's the type who hovers at the entrance, checking his watch and smoothing his collar... — Steve muttered while mechanically pushing aside a blouse.

— How do you know? — Robin turned toward him suddenly. Panic flooded Steve. He’d slipped up. Swallowing hard, he jumped off the bed and started looking through the clothes.

— Um... I took Will to the store and he was right there. Relax, I didn't do anything. —

— I wasn't accusing you of anything. I was just surprised. —

— Okay. — Steve nodded and pulled a blue dress from the pile. — Anyway, you shouldn't be so worked up. The guy should be grateful you’re even talking to him. —

— Don't be like that! It's just a dinner. Do you think this green is good? Or is it too... you know, grass-colored? —

Steve looked her over. His heart was throbbing in his throat. Robin's hair was messy, her face flushed under the delicate makeup, and her eyes... that blue that Steve could have looked at for hours was now wide with anticipation, searching his. During the searching, they somehow got closer to each other; not even an arm's length of space remained between them.

— It doesn't matter what you wear, Rob. — he said softly, his voice suddenly losing all its edge. — You could wear a trash bag and you’d still be the most beautiful woman in the whole city. —

The air stopped in the room. Robin's hand trembled; the green dress slowly slid to the floor. She didn't look away. The silence was heavy, filled with everything they had kept quiet for the past year. Steve felt the distance between them shrinking like a magnet. Robin took a small, uncertain step toward him. They were so close he could smell the scent of her hair and feel her rapid breath on his face.

Robin's gaze wandered to Steve's lips. This was the moment Steve dreamed of every single night. The girl's hand rose cautiously, as if she wanted to touch Steve's face, and the man already closed his eyes, waiting for the salvation, the collision that changes everything. But his brain was flooded with unwanted thoughts. Robin, as she started taking interest in guys, naturally chose someone else. She gave someone else a chance. Steve hadn't even crossed her mind. Not for a moment. He again imagined the scene in the restaurant, as Robin laughs with Peter or holds his hand on the table. The defense mechanism that had protected his heart from total collapse for years intervened at the last moment.

— See, that’s the kind of thing Peter needs to say too. — Steve snorted suddenly, flinching back a step, breaking the spell. — Just like I said to Candi on the phone, so have some expectations. You know, regarding men. —

Robin's hand froze in mid-air. Her face, which moments ago was soft with desire and confusion, now turned to stone in a single second.

— Candi? — she asked, and her voice was like ice.

— Yeah. My date for tonight. Candi from the cinema box office, remember? It's Saturday night, Rob, you didn't think I’d sit home and put rollers in my hair while you’re flirting with Peter, did you? I have to get ready too. I’m picking her up at seven. —

Robin slowly reached down for the green dress. Her movements were clunky, and her gaze became empty. Steve saw the girl swallow hard and something reflected in her eyes that he couldn't quite place. As if she had reached a decision.

— Sure. — said Robin, and a forced, sharp laugh left her throat. — Of course. Harrington is never without a partner. What was I thinking, calling you here at a time like this? Get out then, so you’re not late for Candi. You wouldn't want to keep the most beautiful woman in town waiting, would you? —

— Robin, I just... — he began defensively because he felt he’d messed up. His brain had tricked him. Robin had been about to kiss him just now, and he could have made her forget that Peter even existed in the world, but because of his jealousy and hurt pride, he had just thrown away the opportunity.

— Just go, Steve! — she snapped, already standing with her back to him, starting to wildly yank clothes from the wardrobe. — Peter is almost here. And you know what? This green will be perfect. Peter will love it. —

— That blue... — Steve muttered softly; he wasn't even sure Robin heard it. — That blue dress, it brings out your eyes. Wear that one. —

Steve stood for a moment longer in the doorway with the salty taste of defeat in his mouth. He wanted to stop her. He wanted to grab her shoulder and tell her there is no Candi, he didn't say anything to that girl, there is no one else, only her. But instead, he just stepped out of the room while in his gut that giant was no longer just sitting, but squeezing his heart with all its might.

Steve calculated the time as if he were planning a bank robbery. He didn't want to arrive too early to hover at the entrance, but not too late either, lest he miss the point. Exactly ten minutes after the agreed seven o'clock, he rolled up to the restaurant in the BMW. Candi talked all the way about how her roommate's cat could supposedly nod "no" with its head if it didn't like its food. And Steve nodded and hummed as if this were the most interesting thing he had ever heard in Hawkins.

When they entered the restaurant, the air was filled with the scent of spicy tomato sauce and garlic. Steve's eye, like a radar, immediately scanned the room. And there they were. They were led to a table by the window, which was strategically perfect. Robin and the others sat diagonally in front of them, in the adjacent row. Peter Gray Halper sat with his back to Steve, his posture just as boring as his voice in the store, so Steve got a direct view of Robin. As soon as Steve pulled out the chair for Candi and then sat down, he raised his gaze to the girl.

Robin sat there with a glass of water clutched between her hands, and... she had the blue dress on. That blue that made her eyes almost glow in the candlelight. Steve's breath caught for a moment, and the giant in his gut kicked him so hard he almost groaned. But he didn't. Instead, he brought out his cheekiest, most smug "King Steve" smile. He nodded slowly, almost ceremoniously toward her, and his smile carried a clear message: "See? I knew you'd wear what I told you."

Robin didn't move, only followed the scene with her eyes. When their gazes locked, the girl didn't blush, nor did she look away. Instead, she acknowledged the man's presence with a spectacular, incredulous snort. Every feature of her face screamed: "You can't be serious right now, Harrington? You really were capable of coming here, with this girl, just to annoy me? *