F A N F I C T I O N > V . M A R S
Stevie Nicks by Amberina
It didn't used to be like this. Celeste never intended for it to be like this, never intended for any of this. Of course, it wasn't her fault. It was Lianne, it was Jake, it was anyone, everyone's fault, but mostly it just wasn't Celeste's fault. That's what she told herself when she spoke to Clarence Wiedman on the telephone, her voice hushed just in case.
She placed the phone back in its cradle and sat back in her chair. She ran her fingers along the stem of her wine glass, but she didn't take a drink of it. It was red wine, and red wine reminded her of Lianne. She remembered Lianne in short jean shorts, her legs stretching on for miles and miles it seemed. She remembered dirty-blond hair piled lazily on the top of Lianne's head. She remembered lips that tasted like red wine and strawberries.
She remembered the summer before their junior year (the year a young Jake Kane moved to Neptune and captured Lianne's heart), wrapped up in sheets with Lianne, wrapped up in her. Smooth white skin under her lips, slick flesh under her fingers, around her fingers. Lianne giggling, moaning, coming to the tune of "Don't Stop" by Fleetwood Mac, blaring from Celeste's radio.
Afterwards, Lianne had sat up and declared her undying love for Stevie Nicks. "I want to make love to her," she said, and the completely unironic tone in her voice had made Celeste giggle even then.
"Is she sexier than me?" Celeste had asked, giving Lianne her best sexy pout. Lianne pretended to be thinking for a moment, and then she pushed Celeste back on the bed and, though silent, everything she did screamed no way.
Celeste traced her finger around her glass, dancing along edge of it, and then she picked it up and she took a drink. It didn't used to be like this, she thought, before she threw the glass against the wall. It exploded in a shower of glass and wine. It would stain. She didn't care.
She placed her head in her hands, and for a small moment, her thoughts stopped. Everything stopped, and she just concentrated on her breathing. Things were simpler when the only thing she had to worry about was inhaling, exhaling, inhaling, exhaling. Things were simpler when the only thing she had to worry about was whether or not Lianne was more attracted to Stevie Nicks.