Page 4 of I Heart Mason Cartwright
“There’s air-conditioning, right? Can you start the car? It’s hot.”
I take a deep breath and count to ten before getting in the car.
You offered. Suck it up like a big boy.
Twenty minutes into the drive she asks to stop and use the restroom.
“Can you wait like ten more minutes?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Don’t Change” by INXS comes on the radio and I turn it up and sing along.
“Ohmigod, now I know you’re old,” she says.
“What?” I turn to look at her. “I was bornafterthis song came out.”
“Yeah, but you know the words.” She snickers.
“Because it’s a great song.”
She shrugs.
“Do you know the words to I Will Survive?” I ask.
“Of course I do.” She rolls her eyes.
“That’s older than my song, so what does that make you?”
“A modern woman.”
“The song I Will Survive makes you a modern woman?”
“Yes.” She draws out the word and upswings at the end.
“Okay, fine, other than that song, what kind of music does a modern woman listen to?”
“Do you have any Taylor Swift?” she asks.
“Nope.”
“Shawn Mendes?”
“Negative.”
“Ariana Grande?” Her eyebrows rise so high they are close to her hairline.
“No.”
“Jonas Brothers?”
“Definitely not.”
“Well, what do you have that’s not like fifty years old?”
“Everything I have isnot like fifty years old,” I sigh. “How about Post Malone? I think I have his latest in here somewhere.” I hand her my phone, which has most of my music downloaded on it. She begins scrolling through, mumbling criticism as she goes.
“You have a lot of old-people music in here.”
