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“You disagree?” he asked when she didn’t immediately agree with him.
“I just think maybe you’re exaggerating. That’s all.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Has your hatred of Twizzlers gone away?”
“No, but what does that have to do with—”
“So, you’re allowed to hate Twizzlers with impunity, but my hatred for this song is an … exaggeration?”
“My hatred for Twizzlers is different than your hatred for this song.”
“Wrong.”
“You’re wrong. Twizzlers is the worst licorice there is, but I don’t think “We Built This City” is the worst song there is—there are songs that are just as bad as “We Built This City” out there. There’s nothing just as bad as Twizzlers out there. See the difference?”
He grabbed a breadstick of his own and took a bite. “So, you think there are songs that are just as bad as “We Built This City”?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Okay. Name ten.”
“Ten?” Paige’s eyes widened at the unexpected and ridiculous demand. “You know, most people would say, ‘Name one’.”
“I’m not most people.”
“No, you’re not. You’re clearly a lunatic.”
“You’re the one who said there are songs ‘just as bad’ out there, or have you forgotten?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten. It was fifteen seconds ago.”
“Well, I’m assuming that meant you could come up with at least ten songs that qualify as ‘just as bad’ as this song.” David gave a shrug that managed to be both dismissive and challenging at the same time. “But if you were just talking shit and can’t back it up …”
“Oh, I can back it up.”
With a smirk, he leaned forward. “I’m ready when you are.”
“First things first.” She grabbed another breadstick. “What do I get when I come up with ten songs?”
“Besides personal satisfaction?”
“Uh, yeah. I’m going to need more than that.”
David gave her a long look. “Well, if you can name ten songs that are just as bad—and I have to agree they are just as bad—then you’ll get something good.”
“Something ‘good’? That’s pretty vague.”
“It’ll be good. Trust me.”
Tilting her head as if debating whether or not she could trust him, she finally said, “All right. But I’ll have to agree it’s good.”
“Fair enough. Now, what do I get if you can’t name ten?”
“Something ‘good’,” she deadpanned.
“I’ll have to agree it’s good,” he returned.
“Fair enough.”
