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I’m taken aback by Tuck’s enthusiasm. “Geez, I never would have taken you for such an ardent Taylor Swift supporter.”
“We call ourselves Swifties, thank you very much.”
“How did?—”
“Oh! Hold on.” He reaches for the volume knob on his stereo to turn up the volume. “After this song. It’s one of my favorites.”
For the next four minutes, I’m forced to endure Tuck singing along to Taylor Swift’s Speak Now.
When the last off-tune note from Tuck’s throat finally fades away into the air, he turns the volume back down. “What were you about to ask?”
“How did you learn how to work on cars?” But then another thought occurs to me. “Or were you just pretending to know what you were doing to screw with me?”
Tuck lets out a booming laugh, and I’m ashamed to admit how deep in my core I feel the vibration of it. “One of the businesses my dad owns is a car dealership. He used to make me work summers in the maintenance department. I picked up a thing or two.”
“Hm,” I hum, surprised; and impressed with Tuck’s dad for not wanting his son to grow up idle just because he was born wealthy.
“Surprised I’ve got some blue-collar skills?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer, making no effort to sugarcoat it.
Tuck chuckles again. “Yeah, my dad’s kind of a hard ass. All about making me learn the value of hard work. I’d say it halfway worked. I’m all good with working hard when it comes to something physical. Academics, on the other hand,” he tilts his head, “that’s another story.”
For a couple minutes we continue to drive in silence, until Tuck asks, “You’re into those artsy movies right?”
“Artsy movies?” I repeat, amused by the phrasing. “Sure, I guess I am.”
“Yeah. My roommate Sebastian is, too. I watched this one he recommended the other day. Some Italian title.” A low, thoughtful hum rumbles from him while he searches his mind. “L’Avventura, I think it was called?”
My brow leaps up my forehead in surprised. “You watched L’Avventura? Really?”
“Don’t sound so surprised, Lockley,” Tuck drawls. “I wanted to expand my horizons.”
“Well? Did you like it?” I’m genuinely interested now.
“It was …” Tuck peters off, like he’s searching for the right word. “It definitely, um …” Again a thoughtful pause, before he finally comes out with, “Alright, I admit it, I hated it. It was so fucking boring!”
“It was not boring!” I retort, defensive of a film I admire. “It was thoughtful, introspective, philosophical, innovative …”
“You’re just throwing out euphemisms for boring.”
“Well, what’s a good movie in your opinion, then?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I’m an 80’s action movie and 2000’s romcom guy. Maybe not the most sophisticated choices, but after giving sophisticated movies a try, I’m comfortable sticking to what I like.”
“2000’s romcoms?” I repeat, caught off guard again.
We’re stopped at a light, so Tuck takes the opportunity to turn to me and flash another toothy grin. “I’m really surprising you today, aren’t I?”
He kind of is.
“I won’t lie. I assumed you’d be too much of a macho meathead to be open about liking Taylor Swift and romcoms.”
“Not me. I am who I am and I’m comfortable enough with my masculinity to like what I like. When you’ve got biceps like these,” he flexes one arm, drawing my eyes to the bulging muscle, “and certain, let’s say, other masculine assets, you don’t need to worry about what other people think of you to know that you’re all man.”
I’ve been so sure Tuck is cut from the same cloth as my ex, but that mindset is a million miles away from how Ryan looked at things.
He cared a lot about what other people thought about him, and especially cared about no one thinking he’d be into something girly.
