Page 17 of The Boyfriend Swap

I shrugged in response to what could only be described as the most annoying question ever.

“You’ve been dating for how long now?”

“A little under a year.” I tapped my fingers to the beat of the music. “I love Counting Crows,” I said happily before raising the volume of “Mr. Jones” and singing softly. Good music always made sitting in unmoving traffic more bearable, and the Classic Rewind Sirius XM Radio Channel was one of my favorites.

“Me too,” Will said, before enthusiastically belting out the lyrics along with me while slapping his hands on his thighs to the rhythm.

Within the first few notes, it became evident Will’s status as Mr. Cool wasn’t the only reason he never sang in the chorus or auditioned for the school play—he had a horrible voice. If Adam Duritz’s ears were blistering, it was probably because Will was demolishing his band’s American Top 40 number one song from 1994.

Surprised Will was unself-conscious enough to sing out loud with a voice that could stop traffic—in a bad way—I was momentarily rendered mute. Continuing to tap his feet to the music with his eyes closed, he didn’t even notice me staring at him. Which was a good thing, as I was visualizing him in the shower singing into his scrub brush like a microphone. Only bad singing wasn’t supposed to be hot. Ashamed of my mind for going somewhere it wasn’t invited, I Rick-rolled my mind until Will was dressed in gold sparkly parachute pants and a down vest and singing “Never Gonna Give You Up” by the painfully unsexy Rick Astley. I was unsuccessful in my mission since, naturally, Will made a much sexier Rick Astley than the man himself.

I released a grunt of frustration that Will didn’t notice over his warbling. After the song ended, I lowered the volume. “What other music do you like?” I’d blessedly regained my composure by then.

Will opened his eyes and gave me a wry grin. “When I was ‘pondering the meaning of life’ in high school, The Killers, Fall Out Boy, and Red Hot Chili Peppers were usually in the background.” He shrugged. “But I love almost all music. It makes everything better.”

Unless you’re the one singing.As the response perched itself on the tip of my tongue, my lips quivered and I mentally slapped myself. Who was this mean girl who’d invaded my body?

Will cocked his head to the side. “What are you thinking?”

“It’s nothing.” I slammed my fist into my mouth knuckles first.

Shaking his head in amusement, Will said, “You’re such a bad liar, Snow.”

I frowned. He was right, which didn’t bode well for this trip.

“C’mon. Tell me.”

“Not when you sing,” I muttered.

“What?”

Good. He hadn’t heard me. It was a sign I should shut it. “Nothing.”

“No. I want to know what you said. Something about my singing?”

Groaning, I stole a glance at him before turning back to the road. It was a quick peek, but long enough to establish Will was fully invested in getting me to spill. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings.” I bit a fingernail.

“But?”

I turned toward him. “Do you think you’re a good singer?” With any luck, he was well aware of his shortcoming and we’d share a laugh.

“Doyouthink I’m a good singer?” His hazel eyes opened wide in hope.

I licked my dry lips and shook my head gently.

“Oh.” His shoulders dropped.

“But I’m sure you’ve got oodles of talent in other areas.” I turned back to the road, afraid to look at him after going all Simon Cowell on his ass. What was wrong with me? So what if Will was under the false illusion he had a voice like Josh Groban? It wasn’t my place to tell him otherwise. And I might be talented in the musical arts, but I could never color within the lines or hit the volleyball over the net. And after years of swimming lessons in summer camp, I still never mastered the butterfly stroke. It wasn’t natural to be good at everything.

If Will’s silence was any indication, he was taking my criticism very badly. I summoned the courage to look at him. My stomach dropped at the sight of him bent down with his face in his hands. Was he crying? I had no idea he was so sensitive. “I’m sorry, Will,” I said, reaching over to tap the top of his head to soothe him. For years, I’d dreamed about being the person Will relied on to comfort him in his times of need, but I never imagined I’d be the cause of his distress. The boyfriend swap was off to an awful start thanks to me. Focusing again on the road, I begged, “Talk to me, Will.” Finally, he made a noise, but it didn’t sound like crying. It sounded more like…wheezing? I darted my eyes toward him only to see his head bobbing up and down in the unmistakable throes of hysterical laughter. Embarrassed for falling for his aggrieved act, I demanded, “Stop it,” and elbowed him in the rib for emphasis.

Releasing his hands to reveal his red-streaked face, he said, “I’m sure you have…” He took a gulp of air. “Oodlesof talent.”

“You suck,” I muttered.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. “I don’t think anyone has ever been quite as apologetic over insulting me before.”

Too mortified to respond, I focused on my foot on the gas pedal until I felt his hand on my shoulder. “What?”

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