Page 3 of The Sound of Us

“So does he.” I held out my hand. “I’m Skye.”

“Dante.” His warm palm pressed against mine, sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

“Are you going to include any ‘eye’ songs in the playlist you’re making in your head tonight?” he asked.

I vaguely remembered mentioning the playlist to Isla when we’d walked into the alley. “You were listening to a private conversation.”

“That you were having right outside my van,” he interjected. “I couldn’t leave without disturbing you, so I was effectively trapped inside with nothing to do but listen.”

“If you found yourself inadvertently listening to a private conversation, you should have made some noise, covered your ears, or, here’s a thought…” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm from my tone. “You could have come out of the van, let us know we were disturbing you, and we would have gone back inside.”

“But then I wouldn’t have heard about the guy with theBonerplaylist.” Dante’s voice rippled with laughter. “I wouldn’t have known that your tremendous leap for your friend’s vape was the result of being a basketball player, and not some kind of secret superhero skill.”

My lips quirked at the corners. “How do you know I’m not a superhero?”

“My bad.” He held up his hands, palms forward. His fingers were long, slim, and calloused. Musician’s hands. “I must have missed the cape.”

“Is that your idea of an apology?” My eyes followed the rugged contours of his face, the line of his jaw, the fullness of his lips.Big mistake.I could feel my face flush hot, my cheeks burning like I’d spent a day in the sun.

A grin lit his face. “If I really wanted to apologize, I’d send you a playlist of carefully curated songs.”

A sliver of pain shot up my leg, warning me I’d been standing still too long, but damned if I was going to walk away when things were getting interesting.

“What would be on this apology playlist?” Creating a playlist is both an art and a form of personal expression. My playlists are inspired by an emotion, an event, or a moment in time. I build on the feeling with songs that not only flow together but whose titles and lyrics express a cohesive story. I desperately wanted to know the stories his playlists would tell.

Dante’s eyes glittered with amusement, and he pulled out his phone, scrolling until he landed on something that made his lips quiver. “Which one?”

“Which one?” My voice rose in pitch. “Do you make a habit of pissing people off?”

“I like to be prepared,” he said.

“For eavesdropping on private conversations?”

“For riling up a beautiful woman.”

My mouth opened and closed again. I’d given up on feeling beautiful a long time ago, and especially after the accident that left my body covered in scars. “You’re dragging this out,” I said. “First song. And if you even mention Adele, I’m out of here.”

His lips twisted in a grin. “‘Wrecking Ball.’”

Laughter bubbled up in my chest and came out with an inelegant snort. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“That’s not really an apology. It’s a song about regret.”

“I regret overhearing your conversation,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “But if you really need to hear the words, I can change it to the ‘Apology Song’ by The Decemberists.”

“That’s about a bicycle.” My cheeks were sore, and it took me a moment to realize that I hadn’t stopped smiling since we met. I looked around for Isla to share the joy, but she was deep in a conversation with Scott.

“He was very sorry he lost it.” Dante tipped his head to the side and gave me a teasing smile. “It’s not easy to find apology songs that don’t deal with heartbreak.”

“What else is on your non-apology playlist?” I wanted to know every song. I wanted our conversation to go on until I could figure out why, for the first time in forever, I felt a lightness in my soul.

“‘A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You.’”

“The Monkees?” I liked that his musical tastes varied wildly, so much like mine. “I am not to blame.Youwere the eavesdropper.”

“How about Chicago’s ‘Hard to Say I’m Sorry’? he offered. “Demi Lovato’s ‘Sorry Not Sorry’?”

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