ೃ⁀➷ In the year 1994,
Maya Bennet travels to New York to attend a famous music festival, Woodstock. After stumbling into the wrong tent when searching for her lost boyfriend, she has an odd interaction with a handsome mysterious stranger. A year l...
𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | Fleetwood Mac 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 | The Georgia Satellites
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
I yank on my bedsheets and wrap my half naked body in my white comforter as Harry stands leaned against my doorway with his arms folded over his chest. Without saying a word, he clears his throat and glances around the room without stepping in as he avoids looking down at my bed.
Only seconds ago I was sleeping but the minute I heard a creaking sound, I snapped my eyes open and that's when I saw him staring at me like some stalker; smirking with his arms folded over his chest as he stands in the doorway like he's waiting to be invited inside.
My eyes search around frantically as my heart races in my chest, glancing over at my shorts that are on the other side of the bed, completely out of reach so if I even tried to grab them I'd expose a lot more than I wish to. I look back over at Harry, urging a response out of him with my eyes when he continues to stay silent.
"Something happened last night at the park. I wanted to come by and make sure you were okay after I heard." He begins walking across the wooden floor with his hands traveling to his pockets, making my head roll back until my body falls against my pillow as he invites himself in. "I called ten times. Nobody picked up."
I look over at the clock, watching the number ten blink repeatedly in red. "Dean's at work. I didn't mean to sleep in. I don't know what happened." I say as if it's obvious, gripping onto my sheets for dear life as he walks over to my record player. "How did you get in the house? The doors locked."
"Not anymore." He shrugs.
"Oh my god, you broke our door?!" I sit back up in bed with widened eyes and a worried stare.
"No, Maya. Jesus Christ." He mutters, sounding offended I'd jump to that conclusion though his answer was nothing but cryptic and worrisome. "Dean gave me a spare key in case of emergencies. Hence why I'm here, emergency." He states like it's obvious, but I'm still trying to open my eyes for the day—completely confused as to why he's standing in my bedroom.
"Well what happened?" I ask nervously, waiting for a response, but all I get is silence as I keep my eyes facing his reflection. "Harry I appreciate you checking on me but if you came all the way over here to make sure I was okay, I think you should tell me what happened so I—"
Can you hear me calling out your name? You know that I'm falling And I don't know what to say
He sets the stylus down on the record; playing the third track of Fleetwood Mac's album Tango In The Night which cuts my words off completely—Letting out a sigh as he stares at himself in the mirror and sways his hips to the upbeat tune, I shake my head and bite down on my lip to prevent myself from smiling at the sight of his little dance.
