Page 112 of King of My Heart

Her mouth is partly open, and I hear the faintest whispers. “Anne, George I, George II, George III, George IV, William IV, Victoria, Edward VII—”

“Why are you citing English monarchs?” My voice makes her jump in her seat, like she genuinely forgot I was next to her, and the car was just driving itself.

“What?” she asks as if nothing happened. I give her a side look and she shakes her head. “I wasn’t.”

I’m not sure if she doesn’t realize she was doing it or just simply lying.

“I must hear voices, then,” I tell her calmly.

She rolls her eyes and turns the music on. The same song that was on the last time she was in this car is playing again.Art Hoeby Call Me Karizma.

The song is finishing, and we only hear the ending.I think I fell in love…

“This song reminds me of you,” I say without shame.

I’m not in love with her, and she knows I’m not, so I don’t expect her to understand which lyrics remind me of her.

“I’m not five foot four,” she replies casually.

“Huh?” I’m so confused, no other word comes out.

“And my haircut is not shorter than yours,” she continues. She thinks to herself. “Although, it’s true I didn’t have my dad there, and you definitely can’t resist me.”

When I finally understand she’s talking about the lyrics, I smile. “Big fan of Call Me Karizma?”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about,” she deadpans.

“The artist? Singing this song? You seem to know the lyrics, so I’m assuming you’ve been listening to it.”

She shrugs and looks out the window. “No. You put it on last time.”

“Right, and you remember the lyrics,” I chuckle sarcastically.

“Yeah.”

I can’t help but turn to her, slowing down as I do so. Why is she assuming I know what the fuck she’s going on about?

“You remembered the entire lyrics of the song from listening to itonce,” I insist, spelling out the impossibility of what she’s saying.

“Yeah.” Her raspy voice, not bothering to get further into it, makes me roll my eyes with annoyance. She catches it and huffs. “I remember everything, I thought you knew that.”

“No, I didn’t, because that’s impossible.”

I don’t know why I’m debating with her on something so trivial. It’s just lyrics. It’s just something I didn’t know. It’s just that I can’t stop trying to make her talk just to hear her hoarse vocal cords, her throaty chuckles, and her constant sarcasm.

“I thought your boyfriend would have told you about my greatest talent. Don’t tell me he only ever said I was of an unmatchable beauty.”

“Don’t call him my boyfriend,” I snap back. “And stop thinking that all he does is talk about you.”

She smiles, happy to have raised my blood pressure. Where is the meek girl who begged for an orgasm at my feet?

“Whatever,” I try to conclude. “It’s not even that hard to remember a song.”

“I remember everything, Lik.”

She finally closes the coat tightly around her as if just noticing she’s been practically naked all this time.

“I remember everything Mattock said in that first class we had together. Where you spied on me from five rows behind me. I remember the chemicals in the bottle of shampoo you left at Sam’s penthouse, the one for frizzy hair that I’ve been using and is makingmyhair greasy as fuck. Cocamidopropyl Betaine, Sodium Lauroyl Methyl Isethionate, Sodium Lauroyl Sarcosinate, Glycerin, I can keep going.”

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