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SLEEPOVERS AND STEVIE

Hugh

DECEMBER 4, 2003

W HEN L IZ STORMED INTO MY BEDROOM THE FOLLOWING EVENING, SHE MOVED straight for my stereo, CD case in hand. Visibly thrumming with anger, she retrieved the disc from the case before flinging it at me.

“Jesus Christ,” Gibs exclaimed, diving out of her way and dropping the ball he’d been balancing in the process.

“Liz.” Equally just as pissed, I caught the case midair and quickly recognized it as Fleetwood Mac’s album The Dance . “What are you doing in here?”

Without speaking a single word, she placed the disc in my stereo and began to flick through tracks before stopping at number twelve.

Then, she held her finger on the fast-forward button, skipping through parts of the song, until releasing it at 3:38.

The moment Stevie Nicks’s haunting voice filled the room, my ex-girlfriend turned the volume up to maximum capacity before spinning around to look at me. Again, she never uttered a single word, letting the song do the talking for her.

Instead, she tortured me by standing directly in front of me, chest heaving in such a way that it brushed against mine.

Jutting her chin up in defiance, she locked her eyes on mine and snared me, keeping me captive, as the music ricocheted through the both of us.

She didn’t seem to care that we were in full view of my friends, and I couldn’t look away from her.

Her eyes were blazing with raw emotion—some of it fury, most of it pain. The intensity of her stare was too fucking much in this moment, bringing with it an onslaught of heartbreak that I’d be working so damn hard on burying.

Jaw ticking, I glared right back at her, feeling every muscle in my body lock up with tension as her eyes screamed the lyrics of the song at me.

Neither one of us moved for the longest time.

I couldn’t have if I’d wanted to.

I was trapped.

The more she stared at me, the faster my breathing became until my chest was literally heaving right along with hers.

Because this was too much.

I felt too much for her.

All the pain, all the memories, all the fucking misplaced adoration.

It was crippling.

But I would not falter.

I would not give in this time.

I couldn’t .

The song ended and with one final, lingering stare, she ripped her gaze off mine, spun on her heels, and walked out of my room.

Not one single word had spilled from her lips, but she had successfully ruined all train of thought for me.

All I could do was stand there staring after her, while track thirteen began to play.

“I think she was trying to tell ya something, Hugo.”

“You think, Gibs?” Feely replied dryly.

He nodded eagerly before clapping my shoulder with his hand. “Definitely.”