'Moonlight'

7

I sigh, looking around for a coffee shop or something to just sit and write in. I spot one nearby, and make my way over to it. It's kinda empty, but still looks cosy. I push the door open slowly, slightly nervous. I always get anxious about entering places on my own.
"Hey there, sir!"
A young man, about 19 or so, waves at me happily from behind the counter. I smile back weakly, thinking of something to say.
"Coffee? Hot chocolate?" he asks, smiling.
"Uh, hot chocolate please." i mumble, awkwardly. Jeez, this guy must not get paid enough.
"Alright, 2 minutes!"
I smile again, not able to think of anything else to say or do in response to his cheery attitude and look for somewhere to sit. I hop up onto a stool at the window seats, pulling my journal out of my bag. I haven't even opened it before the guy is back with my hot chocolate. I rummage in my pocket for some cash, but he stops me.
"Don't worry, it's on the house. You seem like you need it."
"Thanks, i think.." i say, unsure if that's a good thing or not. He smiles again before returning to whatever he was doing. I open my journal and begin writing. Somehow, i end up writing 2 pages about Stevie. I exhale slowly through my nose, tears pricking at my eyes. God, why did i think i meant something to her? i'm just another person for her album. I have to remind myself of that at least 10 times a day, but it's true. I put my pen down, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. I take a slow, shaky breath. It's just Stevie, why am i overreacting so much? I'm about to pick up my pen and start writing again as someone taps my shoulder gently, making me start.
"Sorry-"
I turn around to see a girl, around my age. Her ginger hair is flowing in waves around her face, her hazel eyes watching me worriedly. She wears glasses too. I swallow hard as i realise she's almost like a younger version of someone i used to know.
"Sorry," she says again. "But, are you okay?"
I stare at her for a second, confused. Why does this random person care about if i'm okay? Americans are weird.
"Uhm, yeah. Sorry," I sniffle, wiping my glasses on a napkin. "Sorry, i hate getting all emotional in public, jeez."
"It's alright. Everyone gets overwhelmed sometimes." she smiles sweetly. "do you wanna go out and get some air or something?"
"Sure." i slide off the stool, grabbing my journal and shoving it back in my bag and following her outside. She sits down on a small wooden bench outside the coffee shop and pats beside her for me to sit down.
"I'm Kesi, by the way." she says, extending her hand.
"Pierre," i shake her hand quickly, not a fan of physical touch from people i don't know that well.
"Pierre is a cool name! Are you french??" she gasps. I chuckle a little, shrugging.
"Nah. I wish i was french, though."
She smiles again, watching me. We sit there in silence for a few more minutes before she shakes her head as if snapping back to reality.
"Are you feeling better?"
"Yeah, thankyou."
We talk for a while longer, about our interests, home life, hobbies. I dunno, but it's a nice conversation. Turns out she likes Fleetwood Mac too, and music. We've kinda clicked already. Eventually, Kesi gets up from the bench. I stand up too, grabbing my bag. I'm about to walk away, but she stops me.
"Uhm, Pierre?"
"Yeah?" i turn around. She shuffles her feet awkwardly, hesitating.
"Dyou wanna, yknow, go out sometime?" she asks, hurriedly. "it's fine if you don't. I just think you're cool, and i kinda like you. Even though i've only known you for an hour or so. Damn it, im rambling-"
I laugh lightly, touching her arm gently to calm her down. "I'd love to, yes."
"Wait, you're not messing with me, are you?" she asks, chewing on her bottom lip worriedly.
"No, i'd love to go out with you."
She smiles, her eyes lighting up. She has really pretty eyes, actually. They're a light brown, but you can see specks of green and darker brown through them.
"Oh gosh, i thought you'd say no because i haven't known you that long, but i've seen you nearby and- no, that sounds so creepy-"
I don't know what made me do it, but i lean and kiss her gently on the cheek to prevent her saying something she'll regret. She stands still, as if paralysed, her eyebrows raised.
"Sorry," she starts, with the same shocked expression on her face. "i keep rambling."
I grin, shrugging. "Don't worry. I ramble when i'm nervous, too."
She stares at the floor, still smiling. "Okay, i'll see you tomorrow then?"
"Okay,"
Kesi nods, before calling a taxi and hopping in. She's still smiling as she drives away. I glance around to make sure nobody is watching before i jump up and down on the spot ecstatically. I can't believe that just happened.
I'm about to go and look for Lori and the others till someone shouts from behind me. 
"There you are."
I turn around slowly, recognising that low husky voice.
"Oh, hey." i mumble, trying hard not to look at her.
"We got out about 10 minutes ago but we couldn't find you," Stevie says, slightly out of breath. "are you okay?"
"Mhm," i push past her to meet Lori and Sharon. Stevie bites down on her bottom lip, hurt flashing in her eyes, but i ignore her.
"Stevie's been running manic trying to find you. She thought you were hurt or something," Sharon says worriedly as we walk back to the car. "i don't know why she was so stressed, it's strange."
"What about that 'soft spot', huh?" I mutter, nudging Lori.
"Oh, Pierre. I didn't think that would upset you so. I'm sorry." Lori says, sadly.
"Forget it, whatever. There's no soft spot there at all, she's a load of bullshit." I nod towards Stevie, who is marching far ahead of us.
"What?" Lori says, bewildered.
I'm about to reply, but we've reached the car.
"Nevermind,"
Lori frowns at me as we get in the car, in the same seats. Stevie still seems upset with me. I feel kinda bad, but not for long as i remember what happened this morning.
We reach the house and i gratefully jump out of the car, desperate for fresh air. There's another car parked outside, but i don't think much of it. I just want to be in my room, asleep. Forever, maybe. I trail behind Lori as we go inside, not even noticing Stevie rushing to her study.
"Shit," Lori mutters, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of my trance. "Pierre-"
I look up from the floor and gasp. Lindsey Buckingham is standing in the living room, watching me warily.
"What the fuck?!" i whisper. "why is he here?"
"Stevie must've called him," Lori runs her hand through her hair anxiously.
"Christ," Sharon sighs. "he's back?"
"Yeah. Stevie will sort him though." Lori assures us both, as Stevie returns from her study, clutching a piece of paper in her hand.
"Pierre, just go upstairs!" Lori hisses, pushing the living room door shut as she rushes through to the kitchen.
I ignore her, interested in what Lindsey wants. The man that has abused my precious Stevie for years clearly doesn't want an afternoon tea if he's decided to show up randomly. I edge closer to the door, listening.