Mild smut and drugs. Oh, and also this chapter is kind of long.
January 1977
Rumours was about to be released and every time Stevie thought about it, she got butterflies in her stomach. She had never worked so hard on anything in her life and she was so proud.
The fighting with Lindsey had gotten worse. She was pretty certain he was seeing someone, or at the very least, sleeping with someone. She didn't know how to handle it.
So she handled it the only way she knew how; she slept with him too.
She didn't know why she did it. When she was high it seemed like the perfect idea. She could make him see what he was missing and let the other woman know that no one could compare to her.
Yeah, it seemed like the perfect idea, but of course it wasn't.
After he had left her house that night without so much as a goodbye, she went on a binge that lasted nearly three days. She probably could have died and she probably wouldn't have cared.
Why did it hurt so much that Lindsey was gone? Why did she care who he was fucking? He was her ex. She'd made sure of that.
He walked into the record studio where she had been hanging around while Ken and Richard worked on the finishing touches of the album in the other room. He stopped when he saw her. "Hey, what are you doing here?"
He took a seat next to her and she scooted over to make room, "I didn't feel like being alone," she shrugged.
He rested his arm behind her on the back of the couch and absentmindedly played with her hair, twisting it around his fingers and making her shiver.
"Stop," she said, moving his hand away, but not letting it go. She laced his fingers with hers and he kissed the back of her hand.
"Old habits die hard," he said.
She giggled for the first time in a long time, "are you calling me old?"
"I would never."
She tugged him close by the hand and she kissed him. It didn't take much work to get him to kiss her back. It took even less work to get him to latch his hands on to her hips and pull her into his lap.
What was she doing? Why was she doing this? She wanted it. She wanted him. It didn't matter how many men she'd been with; none of them came close to Lindsey.
He slid his hands up under her shirt. She bit his lip; ran her tongue over it, and pressed herself as close as she possibly could to him. He tugged on her hair and she moaned his name.
"Lindsey, please. I need you." She was already tugging off her own shirt.
He put his hands over hers to stop her. He fixed her shirt and looked at her, "I can't."
She smirked, "you can't?"
"This isn't a game, Stephanie."
She slid off his lap and looked down at her hands, "so it's finally come to the point where you don't want me anymore."
"I'm seeing someone," he confessed.
She didn't need to hear another word. She grabbed her bag and left. Her friends didn't see her again for almost a week.
December 1999
"Tonight we're gonna party like it's 1999," Lindsey sang to Elizabeth.
