Chapter Text
October 1997
Chrissy sat at the conference table with the rest of the teachers and staff of Hawkins High, impatiently waiting for the principal to start the meeting. Unlike the rest of the staff, she clutched at her coffee mug so hard she thought the thing might shatter in her grip. Eddie was sitting next to her, right next to her, as if there was no awkwardness between them. As if her senior year, and all the angst that came with it, had never happened. As if he was just another teacher.
She shifted slightly to the left, aware of his presence on her right, and trying to steal a look at him without getting caught. She’d tried to avoid him since the start of the school year, giving him the space she assumed he wanted. For his part, he seemed as if he didn’t have a care in the world. When they interacted he was open, friendly, and kind. She didn’t deserve that, and it scraped at her insides every time he smiled at her.
Her surreptitious glance at him confirmed what she already knew—he was still just as attractive as when they were teenagers. It was bizarre to see him in a suit and tie, bizarre to hear the students talk about “Mr. Munson,” and to hear them gossip about his tattoos in awed, titillated whispers. He was older now and wiser, just like she was, but he hadn’t lost his spark of charm or his healthy contempt for authority. The students loved him, and a good portion of the women on the staff tracked him wherever he went with hungry, curious eyes. He seemed aware of his popularity, and flattered but surprised by it. She observed all this from a distance, of course.
She was so attuned to him that she noticed when his shoulders tensed, when he braced himself to turn slightly and speak to her under his breath. She tensed, too, wondering if she’d been caught staring after all.
“Chrissy, after this, can we—”
His question was cut off by Principal Logan finally starting the meeting.
“All right everyone, I know it’s before Halloween, but we need to start planning the Christmas pageant now or we’ll never be ready. We made a random selection for the co-chairs this year, since there was a lack of volunteers.” Logan gave a mock glare around the room, which got him rueful chuckles in response. It was an enormous job, and no one was going to volunteer to do it.
“This year’s co-chairs are—” Principal Logan looked down at the paper in front of her and Chrissy felt a sudden grip of terror in her heart, only confirmed by Logan’s next words. “—Ms. Cunningham and Mr. Munson. They’ve got a lot of work ahead of them, so let’s give them a round of applause!”