Page 56 of We Own the Stars

“He’s not going to be looking for it anytime soon. He, uh, got the death penalty,” he says. “Want me to show you how it works?”

I gasp and stare up at him like a child getting a brand new airbike on Christmas morning. “It works?!”

Xavian chuckles again. “You should see your face right now. Absolutely adorable.” My cheeks flush as he slides the plastic covering from the record player. “Yes, it still works. You said you liked old movies. Do you also like old music?”

“I like all music,” I say, which is not a lie. “I’m open to anything and everything.”

He shoots me a dubious look I choose to ignore and pulls a record out of its album sleeve. I don’t catch the artist’s name on the sleeve before he carefully places it back inside the cabinet for safekeeping. As he places the record down on the turntable and goes through the motions of setting everything up, I’m transfixed. I’m not sure why this is so magical to me, watching him work the record player like this, but it really is.

Finally, he slides the needle into place and turns up the volume using a little knob. Soft tinkling tones flow out of the player into the room, unlike any music I’ve ever heard before.

“This is called a Philips 461, by the way.” His fingers brush over the raised logo lovingly, like an intimate caress. “Semi-automatic speakers, external inlet….”

“Word salad,” I say, and he peers down at me and grins. “What you just said. It made no sense. Look at you, nerding out.”

Xavian laughs, then drops to his knees to pull open another drawer in the cabinet. “Oh, you think this is nerding out? You haven’t heard anything yet. Just wait until I put these on that cute little head of yours.”

I can’t miss the compliment. This is the second time now that he’s said some part of me is cute or adorable, and I can’t keep myself from blushing. I’m not immune to compliments, of course. I’m used to being praised up and down by a legion of fans and critics. I’ve been called “hot” plenty of times. I’ve been lauded as a sex symbol, a role model, a Madonna, a goddess. I’ve also been decried a slut, a skank, a whore, and a crime against femineity. Whatever that last one means.

But I’ve never been called adorable or cute before. Not even by my own parents, not even when I was very little. You know, that time period where it’s considered normal to call your child cute.

Nope.

I guess there really is a first time for everything, huh?

Xav pulls out a strange gadget with a black loop and two shells on either end. I stare at it blankly, unsure what to make of it, until he stands up and plops it right down on my head, over my ears.

“What is this?” I say. “I can’t hear now, thanks.”

“Just relax. Now, these are nowhere near as old as the turntable. These headphones are from the year 3000, right before we started listening to music purely inside our heads.” His voice is muffled, but I can still make out what he’s saying clearly enough. “Just give me a sec to—”

He reaches over and presses a button on the side of the headphones. Music pours into my ears, and it takes me a few seconds to adjust to the volume before I can pick out the individual instruments within the arrangement. There’s the piano, of course, and the violin … and then an ethereal voice starts to sing.

Xavian stands there in front of me, watching me with his lips slightly parted, like he’s waiting for my reaction. It’s overwhelming, the voice writhing through my ear canals, plucking at my heartstrings one by one until, finally, a tear slips down my cheek without my permission. I wipe the tear away with my hand and stare at my fingers for a long moment, then draw in a deep, cleansing breath.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmur. “I’ve never heard anything like this before. Thank you.”

Xavian’s eyes light up, and it’s the loveliest sight I’ve ever seen.

30XAVIAN

Iput on NSYNC’sGreatest Hitsalbum and watch with delight as Kallista taps her foot and begins to dance around my room. She wiggles her butt and cavorts around in tight circles, all while wearing the headphones over her ears. Not being much of a dancer myself, I sit down on the edge of my bed and just … watch.

“Who is this?” She shouts the question a little too loud, and I can’t help but snicker when I get up to take the headphones off. “Hey!”

“You’re yelling, princess,” I say, then change the settings on the turntable go through the speakers instead. “Tearin’ Up My Heart” pumps through my bedroom, and we both laugh when Aiken yells something incoherently grumpy from the other room.

“Oops, sorry,” Kal says, but I shake my head and continue to smile at her like she’s the brightest star in the sky. Everything else dulls in comparison to Kallista.

“I guess this is why your shows are always sold out,” I say, sitting back down on the bed. “Even when you’re dancing like a five-year-old, it’s impossible to look away.”

Kallista’s cheeks redden again. That’s the third time today, I think. I’m on my way to setting a new record.

Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I say, “So, you like boy bands. Why am I not surprised?”

Kallista sticks her tongue out at me and laughs. “Who wouldn’t like this? They’re amazing. Who were they?”

“A band called NSYNC. They’re from Orlando, Florida,” I say, rattling off the trivia like it’s totally normal for someone like me, an ex Terraball player and bounty hunter, to know anything about a boy band. “They were really popular in the late 1990s and early 2000s.”

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