The month of September is... strange .

At least, for Willow, it is.

Maybe it's her own damning pride, or it might be Steve's, but the two friends don't rekindle. At first, it causes a burning sting, similar to that of a paper cut, to be ever present in her chest - nothing that would kill her, but certainly painful.

Robin is caught in the middle of it. It makes Willow feel awful; she takes full liability for all of it, but Monday after the party, it's clear Robin doesn't send any blame her way.

"So," Willow started as she sat down at lunch with her friend on the outskirts of the bustling cafeteria, "I'm... I'm not going to be riding home with you guys this afternoon."

She had more to say, but Robin hadn't needed any further explanation.

"Figured that much," Robin shrugged through a mouthful of cold fries off of her tray in front of her. Willow hadn't gone through the long and treacherous lunch line - remnants of anxiety still riddled her stomach.

"And you're not mad?"

"Never. This is good, make Harrington sweat it out. But I'm kind of curious who exactly you will be riding home with?" Robin phrased it as a question, a pointed look at Willow before she glanced in the direction of the table that Hellfire had claimed as their own. Eddie's seat was empty, "Is Operation PDA still a go, or did he chicken out?"

Willow turned to follow her line of sight, brows furrowed, "As far as I know it's still a go, he just ditched the first today. Something about a new record he wanted to buy in the town over, but he still gave me a ride to school this morning. Why would he chicken out?"

"Oh, come on, 'Low. I think this is the most painful game of chicken I've ever witnessed."

"Game of chicken? Jesus Christ, why is poultry on your mind? Stop talking in riddles."

Robin sighed dramatically, dropping one of her last few fries she'd been lifting to her lips. "You like him."

Willow's heart stopped. She liked it better when Robin spoke in riddles.

"He's a good friend, yeah," she tried to play oblivious, but Robin wasn't having it.

"Yeah? A really good friend, it seems. You can't tell me you aren't crushing hard on that dipshit."

"I'm not!"

"Oh, denial sings the sweetest truths!" Robin sang out, leaning onto the table to get closer to Willow, "I give it a month."

"A month before what ?" Willow snapped, eyes narrowed at her best friend.

"Before one of you caves. I'm not blind to Steve's jealousy, and I'm certainly not blind when my best friend is clearly falling for a boy. I mean, remember how quickly I called it with dingus?"

Willow did remember that. She hadn't even been contemplating her crush a full week before Robin had pointed out what she thought was obvious. To Willow, it hadn't been. But to Buckley? It had stared the two of them painfully in the face as far as she was concerned.

"Fine. He's nice. Cute, even. Who cares? Sue me," Willow admitted, not up for playing games that morning, "But why are you even saying 'one of us', instead of just me? It's not like he reciprocates the feelings."

"You're hopeless!" Robin groaned, exasperation lacing her body language as she shook her head, "My God, you're a hopeless idiot."

"Who's a hopeless idiot?"

Willow turned speedily to see Eddie standing over the end of their table, looking down at the two girls with a wide-spread grin.

"What are you doing here?" she gasped.

"What?" Eddie shrugged, backpack shifting on his shoulder, "I can't come say hi to my girlfriend ?"

His words caught the attention of the students at the other end of the table. He didn't pay them any mind, though, as he sat himself down on the sliver of space left on the bench beside Willow, resting his arm around her shoulders immediately.

"No, not that," Willow shook her head, fighting a losing war with the blush that threatened to overcome her, "I thought you were ditching today."

"Yeah, well, apparently that type of behavior is frowned upon by my girlfriend ," he said the word again, as if he couldn't get enough of it. Every time it left his lips, it left behind a residual smile tugging on the corner of his lips, "Besides, the shop didn't have the record I was looking for."

"Oh, no. How will the world carry on?" Robin deadpanned, her eyes flickering between the two.

Eddie didn't catch her sarcasm and nodded feverently, "An absolute tragedy. You two didn't answer my question - who's a hopeless idiot?"

For a second, Willow believed that Robin was about to give her and her silly crush up. She tensed her legs, ready to kick her friend if she even dared. But Robin only responded by eating another fry, letting Willow relax.

"O'Donnel. You missed out on an entire class period of her just scolding everyone about the project. Pulling the whole 'I'm not angry, just disappointed' act. She extended the deadline by a whole month, by the way," Willow supplemented. She could still picture their teacher's red face, steam nearly spewing from her ears comically as she raged.

"What?" Eddie's eyes widened, "No way. How the fuck did that happen? She's never done that before."

"Jason and his goons. And the fact that over half of the class is behind on the deadlines."

"Jason isn't even in our class, though," Eddie scrunched his nose, reaching over and attempting to steal a fry from Robin's tray. She showed no mercy as her hand came down in a painful slap that left Eddie's hand a glowing pink, "Ow! Fuck, Buckley, haven't you ever heard that sharing is caring?"

"Fuck off, Munson."

Willow bit down her laughter at their antics, carrying on with conversation, "No, but Andy is. Didn't even get to finish his heroic speech before she cut him off and went off on everyone. I think Jason may have riled her up on Friday about it."

That day, Eddie did end up being Willow's ride home as Robin had insinuated. And the next day. And the day after that - he had a never-ending reel of excuses to convince Willow to hang out with him after school each day. Sometimes there were serious excuses, like needing help with math homework, but some of his reasoning had been embarrassingly trivial.

"Eddie, I don't need to be there to watch you learn a new song on your guitar. I'm sure I'll love it when I hear you play it on Tuesday with the rest of the band."

" , sweetheart, you don't understand - I you to be there. If you aren't, I might just fall over dead, and that might make me break my guitar, and we can't have any damage coming to my only other sweetheart, can we?"

She wouldn't admit it to him, but she didn't mind. In fact, she was glad that he was the one forcing her hand. With all the sudden free time available to her given the current unpleasantries between her and Steve, she found herself with the innate need to cling to Eddie. She was drinking in all the mindless afternoons spent in each other's presence, savoring every second between them.

She'd started to sit with Hellfire at lunch as well. It wasn't an everyday occurrence, Willow decidingly alternating her days between choosing to sit with them and still sitting with Robin, but she still couldn't get over their initial reaction the first day she'd joined them.

"Gentlemen," Eddie mused as he walked up to the table, his hand tightly intertwined with Willow. All of the boys looked up immediately, seemingly normal and happy to see Eddie, before all of their gazes had fallen on Willow. For a poignant moment, Willow was sure there would be a roar of protests. She could almost hear the words that would be spewed. How she was a girl , and girls didn't sit with Hellfire. Or how she wasn't a part of the club, meaning she couldn't sit with them.

She was pleasantly surprised - she was faced with acceptance rather than defiance.

Dustin was the first to light up a few notches brighter at the sight of her. "Willow! Hi!"

"Hey, Henderson," she nervously replied, sending a small wave with her free hand.

Eddie took his regular seat at the head of the table. Willow was about to slide down on the bench to his right, but he stopped her with his arms suddenly wrapping around her waist and tugging her right down onto his lap.

She reacted without thinking, smacking his chest, "Edward Munson, let go of me."

He found her embarrassment far more entertaining than she would have liked as she squirmed, attempting to pry his arms off of her. The Hellfire boys watched on with gaping mouths. And they weren't the only ones - everyone in their proximity mirrored their shock.

No one had ever seen Eddie so openly affectionate with a girl before.

"I'm serious. I'll- I'll cut the strings on your guitar," she hissed, still trying to separate herself from him, "I'll burn your campaign notebook. I swear."

"I think you might wanna let her go, Eddie," Gareth laughed, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the two of them.

Jeff chimed in agreement, "Yeah, you've been hyping up this next campaign way too much to let her set it aflame."

Eddie chuckled lowly before he finally let her go, but not before placing a sloppy kiss onto her cheek. She immediately groaned as she stood and moved to the seat beside Jeff that she'd been originally set on occupying.

"Ew, gross," Mike's face curled in disgust.

"Gross indeed," she muttered, swiping her hand across her cheek where he had kissed her. There was still a bit of his spit, and her reaction to it made his grin split wider.

"Yeah, spare the rest of us," Gareth joined in, poking at the lunch in front of him from across Willow.

"She's my girlfriend. I can do whatever the Hell I want. Get used to it," Eddie said, eyes glued to the red-head sitting beside him. At his words, he knocked their knees together gently below the table. It was out of sight from everyone - from Hellfire, from peering eyes, from the world - and the privacy brought her a sense of comfort. It only grew when his hand had found her knee, a soft squeeze of reassurance turning her heart to embers.

Despite the chorus of complaints, a welcoming aura expelled from the group, enveloping Willow effortlessly.

On the days that Willow doesn't sit with him, Eddie would still make his way to her the moment he enters the cafeteria. He doesn't even pause to drop his bag on his table that usually resides in his path. His sights are always trained on her, getting to her side as quickly as possible and greeting her with a peck on the lips.

She can't get over that - kissing Eddie .

Every time, even in the brevity of them, she finds herself euphoric.

Sometimes, he'll even sit and join her, bugging Robin for his own enjoyment. Robin always plays it off as if she's annoyed, as if the boy was nothing more than a bother whenever he tries to take her food or ruffle her hair, but Willow can tell she's warmed up to his presence. It's a constant, and it's nice.

It's nice enough that there's times where she forgets that it's all for show, none of it real for anyone except herself.

Right now is one of those moments.

Eddie had insisted he come inside after giving her a ride home from school, not even bothering with a nuisance of an excuse. And she had let him, glad the time for excuses was over.

He was sitting at her desk currently, rummaging through drawers as she focused on finishing up some last minute homework. Normally, their impromptu consortations were spent at Eddie's trailer rather than Willow's house. The change in scenery was proving to showcase just how inquisitive Eddie could become.

"Who even needs this many hair ties?" he asks with a wrinkled nose, staring down curiously at his palm full of scrunchies.

"People with hair? I don't know, don't you have some too?" Willow absentmindedly replies as her pencil scratches another answer to a formula she'd been deciphering the last several minutes, "I really don't have that many, especially since you stole my favorite one."

Eddie grins, spinning himself slightly in her chair, "Oh, yeah. I don't have any since my thievery provided me with enough to tame the mane."

Her head snaps up at this, no longer engulfed by equations and numbers that spurred on a pounding creeping up behind her temples, "Excuse me? Are you admitting you not only stole my scrunchie, but that you use it regularly?"

Eddie pauses, hand immediately dropping all of her hair ties back into the drawer with a look of guilt, "No."

"To what? Stealing or using?"

"Nope. Neither. I plead the fifth."

"Munson, I want my scrunchie back," Willow lifts herself off of her stomach, settling onto her bed by the edge with her legs crossed and an accusing glare.

"I don't know where it is," he clearly lies, face giving him away and extinguishing any chance of proving his innocence.

"Bullshit."

She goes to stand, and it's enough to elicit the truth from him, "Okay! Okay! You caught me! Jesus Christ! You're scary when you're mad," he mutters the last part under his breath as his hands are thrown up in defense, "It just works better than the rubber bands I used before and now I don't get headaches when I throw my hair up for band practice-"

"You wear it to band practice?"

He avoids her question, looking to the ground, hands falling to his lap, "It's a really pretty shade of yellow."

"Yeah, I know. Hence why I want it back."

"I'll buy you a new one."

"No, just buy yourself one. They sell them at every corner store. Don't the guys make fun of you for it, anyways?" she interrogates. She hadn't minded the scrunchie being in his possession when the plan was for him to wear it like an accessory, similarly to how she wore his jacket.

His eyes flicker back up to hers, "I mean, yeah, they brought it up once. But then I told them it was yours, and they shut up about it ever since."

Now that endears her enough to soften up. If she hadn't become closer with the group, she wouldn't have looked into it much, but it felt like another demonstration of just how welcoming Eddie's friends had been to her. Most of the time, they even treated her more kindly than they did Eddie. They'd never made fun of her, never made her feel like an outsider. They'd taken to her like glue - they treated her like she was one of their own, not just Eddie's sidepiece.

"I'm telling Gareth to steal it back for me next practice," she huffs, attempting to maintain a sorry excuse for a glare in his direction. She's not really upset, but she did really want that scrunchie back.

"What? No . Listen, it's only fair! You stole my jacket!"

He realizes that his argument is flawed almost immediately, as she makes a point to look at his leather-clad shoulders.

She had returned the jacket nearly a week ago, shoving it into his arms before she'd left his van one day after class under the guise that it was growing colder, and he'd need it soon enough. Really, she just wanted it to smell like him again, like a goddamn creep.

He puffs out his cheeks slightly, leaning back in her chair in defeat, "Can I bargain a trade? I give back the yellow one for the black one I saw in there?"

"No. You're a thief, I don't bargain with thieves."

"What if..." he's clearly still racking his brain for a new offer, ignoring her staunch disagreement. Something clicks, and he immediately brightens up, "Okay, hear me out. If you let me keep the scrunchie, I'll let you braid my hair again."

"Been there, done that," she scoffs, pretending to shut her eyes out of offense rather than the real reason - the memory of braiding and unbraiding Eddie's hair as he laid between her legs, an ignored storm rumbling outside her window, crosses her brain with impeccable warmth.

"Come on, don't make me give it back," he whines, head tilting back slightly. Her eyes betray her and focus on the soft expanse of his neck, porcelain and smooth, an easy sight to get lost in. She only catches her staring when he suddenly swallows particularly hard, lifting his head back up. She knew that mischievous grin from a mile away by now; he had clearly gotten an idea, and was up to no good, "What if I offer some sort of, like, fake-dating lesson if you let me keep it?"

Willow's scoff this time is genuine, "I do not need lessons on fake-dating. I think we've been faring well enough to prove that."

"What if I told you I had a specific... lesson ... in mind?"

Something about the way he says it piqued her interest. Her voice is nearly inaudible as she whispers, "What lesson?"

"So you're interested?" he presses, leaning forward in the chair, pressing his elbows to his thighs.

" What lesson, Eddie?" she repeats herself, trying to put more strength behind her tone this time, but failing miserably. She finds herself leaning forward just as he had, now barely sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Say I can keep the scrunchie," he lowers his voice to nearly match hers, brown eyes boring into hers, "And I'll tell you the lesson."

She snaps from her trance, narrowing her eyes, "Not happening."

"Fine. Then I'm not telling you the lesson I had in mind. Which is a shame, because I'm one hell of a teacher."

She debates it in her mind. Her curiosity is screaming at her to give in, to just let him keep the scrunchie. While she had always favored it, she had survived nearly two months without it. Besides, even if she said he could keep it, she could always steal it back the next time they inevitably ended up hanging out in Eddie's room. All it would take is one bathroom break from him, and she's sure she'd be able to find it with time to spare.

"Fine," she finally says, straightening out her back.

"I can keep the scrunchie?"

"You can keep the scrunchie. Now tell me the lesson."

She's gathered up her composure, no longer letting him appear to have any effect over her. Her face is blank as she awaits his answer.

Nothing could have prepared her for what he says.

"Kissing."

Her stomach drops, seeing a repeat in the scene that had played out between them just a month ago. Before the party, before her fight with Steve, before she'd nearly thrown it all away.

"We already kiss all the time, asshole. I want my scrunchie back," she angrily pushes herself back onto her bed, scooting back and putting distance between them. Once she's in the center of her bed, she pulls up her knees, resting her chin on them, feeling the creases in her forehead. Maybe angry isn't the right word. She's irritated , annoyed. Admittedly, she was hoping for something more exciting than that.

The distance she's put between them is futile when Eddie stands up from her desk, walking over to the edge of the bed before leaning onto it. His biceps accentuate themselves beneath the sleeves of his jacket, his knuckles pressing deeply into the mattress.