Her Song (Florence Pugh)

Wait

"I needed to talk to you," I reply steadily. She stands from her makeup chair and leans against the counter, facing me.

"So talk," she says with a defensive shrug. Her guard is up—that much is obvious.

"I, God, I don't even know where to start," I pause, laughing breathlessly. "Why are you so mad at me?"

She scoffs, shaking her head at me. "You seriously don't know? You go on a date with some girl, don't answer my texts and then start ignoring me. You're so hot and cold, Y/N. So, sorry if I needed to step back for a minute," she snaps angrily.

"Okay, first of all, it's none of your business if I went on a date. Second, I answered your texts as soon as I saw them. And then you didn't answer me. And I'm not ignoring you, Florence! God, did you even listen to the voicemail I left you?"

"What, so I'm the bad guy for not wanting to
think about you getting in another girl's pants? I can't believe you right now. Just, for a second, can you try to think about how I feel?"

"That is exactly what I said when I called you! And, once again, you didn't answer. Besides, you don't get to be jealous when you're the one with a boyfriend. This isn't easy for me either, Florence."

My soaking wet clothes are sticking uncomfortably to my body, water dripping down my face. I can't tell if I'm shaking from the cold or from the tension of our argument, but either way my heart is racing in my chest.

"So why now? Hm? Why show up on set just to start a fight? You couldn't just text?" she shrugs, shaking her head bitterly.

I pace back and forth in front of her, scoffing as I shake my head. "No, I couldn't just text."

"Why not?" she shouts in disbelief.

"Because your boyfriend is a douchebag," I spit.

"You don't get to say that. I get that this is a messy situation but don't take it out on him. He didn't do anything to you," she says coldly, effectively stopping my pacing.

"Oh really? How would you know if he did? It's not like he would tell you," I state flatly.

"What the hell are you saying, Y/N? You can't just throw accusations at someone I- someone I care about."

"I left you a voicemail, Florence. I'm beginning to think you didn't hear it."

"You didn't leave me a voicemail. I would've listened to it if you had."

I pause, my eyebrows furrowing. "Of course you didn't hear it," I realize. "Because Zach heard it first and deleted it. Before he came to the shop," I declare quietly, more to myself than anything.

"He went to your shop? Why? What did he say?" she asks, pushing herself off the vanity and walking closer to me.

"He told me that he heard the voicemail I left you. And to stay away from you."

She swallows thickly, her eyes darting between mine as she clenches her jaw. "Is that it?"

"No."

"What else?"

"It doesn't matter, Florence. I'm here to talk to you. I won't spend forever chasing someone who won't even talk to me."

"What did the voicemail say?" she whispers.

"I really like you, Florence. A lot. And I know this is hard for you, so I'll give you space if that's what you need. But that's not what I need. I know what I want, and I'm willing to wait for it—boyfriend or not."

"What is it that you want?" she rasps, stepping even closer, to the point where only a few inches separate our desperate lips and pounding chests.

"We both know the answer to that, Florence."

"I want to hear you say it," she demands, eyes locked intently on mine, only wavering to briefly glance at my waiting lips.

"You. I want you."

She runs her hand up my arm before fisting the front of my soaked-through shirt. She pulls me closer, and I can feel her breath fanning across my lips. Her pupils are blown, the black lust devouring the hazel innocence.

I run my fingers through her blonde hair, pulling her face even closer to mine. Our lips haven't even brushed yet, but the close proximity of our desires sends electric jolts through my body. She closes her eyes and I follow suit. Just as we begin to lean in, I come to my senses and pull away, resting my forehead against hers, breathing deeply.

"I told you I'd wait, Flo. I meant it. I can't do this when you have a boyfriend. I'll be here when you figure things out," I tell her softly.

I gently kiss her forehead before turning and leaving
the makeup room. Scarlett is waiting outside, and gives me a wide-eyed 'what happened' look when I exit.

"How did it go?" she questions eagerly as I lead the way back to the parking lot.

"Honestly? I have no goddamn idea."

She grabs my arm, stopping me as I go to leave through the back door we used on the way in. "Are you okay?" Scarlett asks sincerely, a worried crease forming between her eyebrows.

"I just wanna go home, please," I mumble defeatedly.  I'm so exhausted. Drained. My only wish is to go home and put on some warm pajamas, then curl up in a ball and sleep until this all goes away.

She nods and walks me outside to the SUV that drove us here. "I'll have them drive you home. Lizzie and I need to stay here. Text us, okay? We're here for you, whatever you need."

I nod, giving her a small thank you before the driver takes off. It could've gone worse, I guess. But we didn't exactly solve anything either. We just argued...and then almost kissed.

Oh my god. I almost kissed Florence Pugh.

~
I'm holding onto pieces of us
that I just can't let go.
I know this is a desperate kind of love,
but it feels like it's home.