Since You've Been Gone

by Morgan Matson

“I liked the mix,” I said, handing him back his iPod. “But what was with all the handclapping songs?” “That was Mumford,” Frank pointed out, looking scandalized. “Do you know how many awards they’ve won?” “Then you would think they’d be able to hire an actual drummer,” I said, as Frank shook his head.

“Do you not like the Beatles?” Frank asked, sounding shocked, as we finished our cool-down and started walking back toward my house. “Do you also not like sunshine and laughter and puppies?” I just stared at him, waiting for Frank Porter to reappear and realize he was being a little crazy, but apparently Frank was just getting started.

“I know,” Frank said. “But I was just thinking about that first night at the Orchard.” “What about it?” I asked. I was trying to focus on having a conversation with Frank, and trying not to think about how close together we were, that he was touching my waist, that he was holding my hand. “You just seemed so . . . diminished,” he said after a moment. “Like you were hoping nobody would see you.” I kept my eyes on his, not letting myself look away. “And now?” He looked right back at me as he gave me a half smile. “You’re the brightest thing in the room,” he said.