Page 23 of Muted

Chester’s arm moving in my peripheral draws me out of my thoughts, and I watch as he flips on the radio. He must notice me watching because he asks, “You mind if I play some music?”

I feel like all I ever do is shake my head at him and I once again wish my throat would unclench and let evenoneword out. I shake it anyway and relax as the music fills the silence.

The song that’s playing is one that’s been all over the radio recently. It’s not really my favorite genre, and honestly, I’m surprised this is something he enjoys listening to.

Studying his profile, I watch him tap his thumb on the wheel off beat and surprise myself when a snort escapes me. This time, when he looks at me, the corner of his mouth is tilted up in amusement. “What, you don’t like this song? I thought this was what all you young people are listening to nowadays.”

I swear to God, if one more person remarks about my age, Iwillmake my displeasure known. My response is to wrinkle my nose and lift a brow to tell him I’ve been insulted.

Huffing out a laugh, he reaches out to change the station. “Got it. I didn’t realize you were a music snob.”

His playful banter sets me at ease, so I lift my nose slightly and look away, happy with the new music he’s playing. It’s something a bit older, but hauntingly lovely all the same.

My head slowly bounces to the beat, and I close my eyes as I sink into the lyrics. I peek my eyes open when I hear the music grow a bit louder and find Chester watching me.

“You like this one,” he says, his voice softer and a bit thoughtful. It’s not a question, just an observation. His soothing tone is warm and washes over me like a warm blanket, so I simply dip my head a little lower to acknowledge that I do, and then close my eyes once more.

The song eventually ends, but as the next one begins, I realize he must be playing music from his phone with one of those apps that will play music that’s similar to the previous one.

We drive in a comfortable silence, and I don’t shift my arm off the armrest when I feel his graze mine as he relaxes into his seat, stretching out.

His skin is soothing, warm, and the earlier anger I was feeling from him has melted away, making me wish our drive would last a little longer.

My phone is on silent, but I can feel the vibration when it buzzes in my bag. I glance over at my boss and smile to myself when I see that he’s just as absorbed as I am.

Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I read the text that just came through from Theo.

Theo: Is Chaz giving you a ride home?

I furrow my brow, not sure who he’s asking about, and respond.

Me: Chaz?

Theo: Chester

Smirking at my phone, I quickly type out that I’m with him and flick my eyes at Chester. Chaz is an interesting nickname, but I can see it. I’ve never heard anyone at the bar call him that, though.

Me: Oh. Yeah, he is. Do you need him?

Theo: Cliff was looking for him. Why is he giving you a ride?

Me: Do you want me to let him know about Cliff?

I ignore his question because it’s not worth answering. I choose to focus on the first part of his text. He’s giving me a ride because he just is. Simple as that. I’m sure Chester would have a different answer, but I’m not about to put words into his mouth.

Theo: How are you going to let him know? I thought you couldn’t talk?

Fucking ouch. I swear to everything that’s holy; I’m done with cranky men and their mood swings. Every time one of these guys has a moment, it’s one more reminder of why I should stay single.

I know my response is passive aggressive, but I’m not going to subject myself to even acknowledging he asked such a rude as fuck question.

Me: … Do you want me to let him know about Cliff?

Theo: Sorry, that was rude.

I snort again, typing out two words. The sound catches Chester’s attention, but he doesn’t comment on the fact that I’m texting with someone. His relaxed state is slightly diminished now that we’re no longer in the vibe we were soaking up.

Me: It was.

---