Page 53 of The Night Shift
“Well, then you can’t click on that one. Here, play this one.” She points to a file that says Play Me When Happy.
“That’s a bit presumptuous.”
She pokes me in the ribs, and I stifle a laugh, hitting the spacebar.
The beginning of the song feels like a warm hug. It’s melodious and happy and hopeful. Ordinarily, I’m not into this kind of music, but today I might be. Especially when she’s looking at me with that silly, almost-shy smile on her face.
“It’s nice,” I tell her.
She holds a finger to my lips and tells me to wait for the lyrics. They’re the “main part,” apparently. So I do. I wait for the lyrics, and as soon as they start to play something inside me melts.
The song comes to an end and the smile on Aanya’s face fades. “You hate it.”
I shake my head. “I love it.”
“You do?”
I nod.
She hesitates for a moment. “So you don’t think I’m crazy for making you a corny playlist for your birthday?”
“I think you’re crazy for a lot of other reasons.”
She smiles again.
“So am I allowed to kiss you or is there a specific song for that too?”
“Ha-ha,” she mocks and pulls me down to her lips.
She kisses me and I kiss her back. It’s a quiet promise. A silent one. Out of love, I believe.
“Holly?” A voice lances through the memory, low and familiar.
The song blares through the speakers. My nose starts to burn, my eyes zigzagging around the car to find something grounding.
“Love?”Theo.
My throat starts to close, my clothes getting itchier against my skin. The music gets louder and my surroundings pulse with each beat.
I need to get out of here.
I need to be alone. I need…to change the song. I swallow hard and lean forward to pressNext. But Theo switches it back. Cutting him a scathing glance, I hitNextagain. And he pressesRewind. Again.
“Stop that.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own anymore. Shame and embarrassment bubbles in a hot stew inside my stomach. My face isburning. Red hot. I’m not used to being vulnerable in front of other people. The air in the car gets thinner.
I try changing the song again and this time the fucker swats my hand away.
“What thefuckis your problem?”
“My car, my rules,” he states and proceeds to up the volume. Like this is nothing but one of our childish games.
“Theo, I’m serious. Change the fucking song.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t like it,” I say.
“And I don’t like you. What’s your point?”
