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Not because I don’t love them—I do.
I just hate the places my head goes.
“Let me guess. Video game soundtracks.” She laughs at herself. “Or John Williams. TheStar Warsscore, of course. AndJurassic Park.”
“No.”
“Oh, I know.” She laughs again and her eyes light up. Suddenly, she notices the brightness filling the car and finds her sunglasses in her purse. “Those guys with guitars who sing about their broken hearts.”
“All music by men?” I ask.
“No. The ones who are sensitive,” she says. “Like, uh, what’s his name…Ed Sheeran.”
Now I’m the one laughing. “You think I’m that obvious?”
“We’re all obvious sometimes.”
That’s true. But it’s also not true. Sure, I might guess Deanna loves fancy dark chocolate. I might even guess she loves the beach—she is from California after all. But I’d never guess her love of Fleetwood Mac or her need to prove herself worthy of her dad’s power and influence or her softness. “Is that it?” I reach for something to steady me. “You had a crush on Ed Sheeran?”
“Not him. But a few guys with guitars. I think it’s the law. All teenage girls fall for at least one guy with a guitar.”
“I can play guitar.” Where did that come from?
“I remember,” she says. “You used to play ‘Wonderwall.’”
“It’s a good song.”
“It’s kind of a sensitive guy cliche.”
“And I suppose you’re too sophisticated to enjoy the song?”
“No,” she admits. “It’s a good song. And you sang it well, too.”
Oh,hell.
She heard me singing.
I feel cracked wide open. On display. Naked—only I’d feel a hundred times less exposed without my clothes.
“Is that the kind of music you like?” she asks. “The soft nineties rock.”
I swallow hard. I force my eyes to the street. The traffic is moving fast now. The ride is easy. “Do you like it?”
“No,” she admits. “It’s too sincere. I like witty lyrics. The guys who have sharp tongues.”
“Sounds painful.”
“The Lexi-isms don’t suit you,” she says bluntly. “I don’t believe your head is going straight to sex.”
It is. Thank fuck it isn’t showing.
“Why are you dodging?” she asks.
I’m not. She’s dodging. Okay, maybe I’m dodging, but she is, too. “You prefer the guys who pretend they don’t have pain.”
“You could say it that way.”
“Because you connect more with them than the people who run to their pain.”
