Page 8 of Crazy for this Girl

Cal slants his moss eyes over to me, clearly unimpressed. “I don’t know if I’d say you're a genius or plainly tone-deaf.”

I yank on his side of the headphones so that it pops out of his ear. “Alright, then show me your iPod, Beach Boy. I bet you have some old ’80’s rock on there.”

“Never said there was anything wrong with hair bands,” he retorts. “Just music our parents used to dance to in poodle skirts and when sharing a straw in a milkshake was considered making out.”

I laugh at his stupid commentary and Cal smirks at me, swiping up his iPod and unplugging the jack from mine before inserting it into his.

“Ready to be mind-blown, Tone Deaf?”

“Mhm…” I roll my eyes. “Be easy on me, Cal. I’m not sure if I can take it.”

“Oh, I’m sure you could. You’re not so ordinarily boring.”

“Cute.”

He winks at me. "Think so?”

I give his elbow a shove because I don’t know what else to do other than answer yes and then proceed to die. He, thankfully, continues to sift through his songs, looking for the perfect one to allegedly blow my mind.

“Make it a good one,” I exhort haughtily to keep myself and our conversation on the straight and narrow.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he says oh-so confidently. “I got my Laynee all set up.”

When a song clicks on, I can already tell that this song is going to be different. I don’t listen to much rock music, and it doesn’t take long for the guitar to start up.

Cal begins to bob his head in a steady beat as I listen to the clear lyrics. Glancing over at Cal, who’s lip-syncing the words, he doesn’t missing a beat or a lyric when he does. His crossed legs bounce with the beat of the drum symbols, gently brushing mine from time to time, and I close my eyes, listening to the message and why Cal likes it so much.

Music to me is such a powerful entity. It speaks when words are hard to manage. It fills a void or a feeling to make it create more sense in our lives. If I could play an instrument or even sing, I’d start writing my own music. But I’m not creative enough to put emotions to paper.

When the song ends, I crack my eyes open to find Cal blatantly staring at me. My cheeks blush furiously yet again as I force a sentence to leave my throat.

Sorta.

“I…liked it.”

His lips lift as if I complimented him and not the song. “See. Stick with me, kid. We were meant for so much more good music like this.”

“How do I even know the rest of your playlist is like this?”

“You wanna find out?” He quirks a brow. “I can show you so much more than that song.”

My jaw drops a little bit like in every movie with Heath Ledger in it.

Calm down, Laynee, and get your head out of the gutter.

“Let me borrow your iPod for the night?”

“What?” I raise a suspicious brow and my iPod to my chest, immediately on my guard because its like my bible. “Why?”

“Trust me?”

“I’ve only known you for three weeks.”

“Have I broken your trust yet?”

“I wouldn’t give you the chance,” I counter back, my defenses always on standby to loan up and activate.

I need to chill.

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