Queen of the Headphone Zombies

Key

lovely // Billie Eilish & Khalid

ZOE

Sex Pistols. I scoff internally, wishing Chelsea were next to me so she could share my hysteria. She's heard me moan more times than I can count about how awful that band sounded. But low and behold, Emerson has them up on some sort of musical revolutionary pedestal. Kind of an extreme reaction to them in my opinion, but whatever.

I glance over at Emerson. This whole night has been a surprise. Driving aimlessly lost around the city, watching the bands play surrounded by hundreds of dancing and screaming fans, and now just hanging out casually talking in the car on the ride home—it's all been a lot of fun. Who would have thought I would have so much fun just hanging out with Emerson?

Chelsea would be mentally nudging me right about now, forcing me to admit how energizing my conversations with Emerson can get. Like just now, sitting here and talking about music. DF never had much to say about music other than, "Sing this," or "Play louder!" Douche. But Emerson has actual opinions, and reasons to support said opinions. Hearing him talk so passionately about the bands he loves and about how much music means to his life...it stirred something in me, something I'm still feeling as we sit silently on the road back to the freeway.

And my thoughts keep sliding back to that moment.

He freaking kissed me.

Twice!

When his lips touched mine, I should have wanted to clock him or knee him in the jewels, or at least push him off when he started that big lean-in. The lean-in every girl recognizes. The one where he steps in a little closer, and stares into your eyes, and then leans ever so slightly forward...just close enough to press his lips against yours. 

Even though a part of me knew he was about to do it, the whole thing caught me off guard. I had been having the literal best night of my life and he leaned in and kissed me and tried to ruin everything. That kiss should have ruined everything. I don't like Emerson. He drives me crazy and he pisses me off and I never wanted to be friends with him. Hell, I never expected to go out with him. But here we are—out together.

And damn if my heart didn't start racing and my lips tingle with heat when that boy leaned in and kissed me.

The kiss was shy and tender, which was a shock-in-itself. Emerson didn't grab the back of my head and angle my mouth to his. He didn't tempt the seam of my lips with his tongue to see if I would allow him in. He didn't groan into me and drag me closer to him. He didn't ravage me in the alley next to the parking garage. But dammit I wanted him to.

And that's why I asked what I asked. "Um...what was that?"

I wasn't asking him, I was asking myself, what the hell was that? What the hell just happened. And shit how badly do I want it to happen again.

When he planted that kiss on me, the thoughts that had rushed over me like a storm...the level of emotions racing through me...was not something I've ever felt before.

It's sure the hell not something I ever felt with Dylan. 

Holy shit, that kiss blew my mind. Just thinking about it right now I feel drugged, high from the memory of it.

But no way I am admitting that to Emerson, or to Chelsea if I can help it. I'm uncomfortable enough admitting it to myself. 

I need to stop thinking about that kiss. I need a distraction. And it's here the moment Emerson says the words, "How do you plan to make magic, Zoe?"

Those words of his settle over me and I feel another deep emotion race within me.  I know without a doubt that I can make magic with him, with the music we make together.