Page 9 of One Short Summer

Apparently, that’s ourthing.

Since I don’t need to make a fool out of myself, and give him more ammunition he can use on me later, I draw on every last ounce of patience I can find in me and remain calm. “I’ll let you know that musical theatre music is awesome.Magicaleven.”

“If you say so. Just sounds like a bunch of noise to me.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, but I’m still convinced he’s playing with me.

Even though I’ve known him for so long now, living with him most of it too, I still can’t always read him. It was easier when we first met when he didn’t seem to be playing games. After a while, I must have rubbed off on him though, now constantly getting a taste of my own medicine. Or so it appears.

I have to admit, it’s equally exciting and annoying.

Okay, definitely more exciting.

Most days, it’s actually the highlight of my day.

Not sure that’s good or bad.

Being stuck in the truck with him for several hours might be the main cause for my irritation right now though, with the emphasis on the “being stuck in the truck” part. I’ve never been good at sharing tight enclosures with other people, or being on the road for very long.

When I’m on tour with my dance team, everyone knows to leave me alone when we’re traveling. That allows me to put on my headphones and zone out, so I’m good to go for a while. For some reason, traveling this way makes me itchy and nervous, maybe even the tiniest bit claustrophobic, but I’ve learned to handle it over the years.

Since this is my first real trip with Gabe, I’m too nervous to relax. Instead, I’ve been either watching the scenery or talking about random stuff.

He finally turns down the volume, at least giving me some relief. “Have you ever thought about working on Broadway if you like that stuff so much?”

I can only see his expression from the side, but I think he might actually be serious.

“I wish. That would’ve been the ultimate dream, but Iknowyou’ve heard me sing in the shower before, so sadly, there’s that.” After picking my nails for a moment, I peek back up at him, at his quiet demeanor and the inability to keep his shoulders from shaking ever so slightly, and therefore revealing his true thoughts.

“Jerk,” I mumble under my breath and lean back on the pillow I propped up against the hard door, putting my arm over my eyes in an effort to forget everything around me for a moment.

Gabe’s fingers tap to the rhythm of the music again, and he takes his sweet time to respond. Probably trying to compose himself, figuring out what exactly he’s supposed to say about my singing now. He walked straight into that one though, so I let him stew. We both know I’m an awful singer, utterly terrible.

I lift my arm enough to see him, watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down several times as he swallows repeatedly. He looks my way for a second and presses his lips together. “It’s notthatbad.”

He barely gets the words through his teeth, and I can’t help myself and have to laugh.

More so at his behavior than anything else.

“You’re such a bad liar.”

Since his gaze doesn’t waver from the road, it’s allowing me to unabashedly watch his ears turn a little pink under my gaze.

Like I said, he walked straight into that one.

For some reason, I feel a little bad, so I lean forward and give his shoulder a soft nudge before looking away. “Trust me, I really wish I could sing. Growing up in New York, as a lover of dance and musical theatre, I dragged my mom to as many shows as I could possibly get her to agree to. I was enthralled, absolutely mesmerized, and I loved every single minute of it.”

“I can see that.”

This time, I feel his eyes on me, even though my gaze has been focused at the road ahead of us while I’m reliving some of my favorite moments of my childhood—me and my mom at the dozens of shows we’ve seen over the years. Ever since my kindergarten teacher did a rendition ofCatswith us, I was sold on musicals, begging my parents to give me whatever scrap they’d allow, in forms of CDs, later DVDs, and, of course, actual Broadway shows.

Growing up, there was nothing that could ever compare to the feeling of watching those people perform than being on stage myself, dancing my heart out.

“Why didn’t you ever try though? They have dancers in the shows who only dance, don’t they?”

I nod. “Some do, yeah.”

“But?”

Shrugging my shoulders, I gaze at him for a moment before staring out the window again, at the low rolling hills we’ve been passing for so long now. Gabe stays silent, giving me time to answer him. He always does that.

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