“Thanks.”
We sit in silence for the entire song. Tyler’s eyes are on the road, which impresses me. I tend to get anxious in car rides ever since my dad died in a car accident, no matter who the driver is.The ride home from Boba Republic is only twenty minutes if we take the highway. The back roads take way too long because everyone uses them to avoid the highways. I don’t blame them. Even though I have my license and can drive on the highway–when required–it’s terrifying having to merge in and out on the interstate and I don’t trust other drivers when they zoom past my little Volkswagen Jetta and make the entire vehicle shake from the speeding force. I glance outside the window, admiring the city lights flashing by to give myself a distraction from the boy sitting next to me.
The air between us is cool and strangely comforting. Despite my efforts to distract myself from thoughts of Tyler, the proximity seems to have the opposite effect. The scent of his cologne, a blend of citrus and sandalwood, envelops us, creating an irresistible atmosphere. It’s intoxicating and it’s pulling me in, when all I’m trying to do is pull back. It’s becoming a challenge to remind myself that I’m trying to friendzone Tyler.
I mentally slap myself. Friends offer friends rides home. That’s all we are. If I keep repeating it, Tyler won’t be living rent-free in my head. Let’s just hope my heart will be in sync with my head on this. The current song fades out into lowkey by NIKI. I sneak a quick glance at Tyler who bobs his head to the beat, which unknowingly brings a smile to my face.
“This song is nice,” Tyler says, breaking the comfortable silence.
“It’s one of my favorites. If I could only listen to one song for the first time, this would be it.”
Tyler doesn’t respond, he continues bobbing his head to the song as he merges onto the highway. It’s a slow merge, which draws my attention to the road.
“What the fuck? Why is there traffic?”
There’s bumper to bumper traffic now. All I see are multiple cars ahead, red tail lights scattered through the highway. We’re not even off the merging road, we’re still trying to get on the main road.
“Must be because of the concert,” Tyler explains as he shifts in his seat to get a better view of his blind spot. Luckily, the car next to us on the main road lets us merge in front of him, so we’re now sitting ducks until traffic dies down. Tyler fishes out his phone off the car mount, “It says there’s an accident. I think we’ll be stuck here for a while.”
“Ugh,” I groan as I slam my head against the seat. “This is not how I wanted to spend my night.”
“At least we’re spending it together.”
I pretend I didn’t hear him say that. I bring both my knees to my chest, trying to get comfy for however long we’re stuck in the car.
The song changes to WESTSIDE by keshi. I sneak a glance and he’s paying attention to the road but it’s no use, since we barely moved two inches. I can tell he likes this song. I watch his deep blue eyes widen at the beginning of guitar acoustics and keshi’s soft, addictive voice kicks the song off.
I elbow his arm, “I know I have great taste in music.”
Tyler scoffs at my smugness. “You gonna share any of your playlists with me then?”
I roll my eyes, hoping my face isn’t betraying me by blushing. “I can share a few, but not all of them.”
“Gatekeeping songs?”
“Not gatekeeping, more like not trying to embarrass myself even more.”
Tyler nudges my arm to get my attention, changing subjects. “Tell me your favorite song.”
“Why?”
He shrugs.
I unbend my legs from my chest and relax in my seat. “Style by Taylor Swift.”
“Why?”
“Is that your favorite thing to ask?” I counter but Tyler shrugs at my question so I answer, “I don’t know, it’s a song that boosts my mood, and singing to it can be fun.”
Tyler nods in acknowledgment and responds with his answer. “As a fellow Swiftie, I approve.”
A soft laugh bubbles up, and I shake my head at his response. “What’s your favorite song?”
Tyler takes a few seconds to answer, his hand still gripping the wheel. A mischievous smile appears, “For me to know, you to find out.”
I turn my head and scoff to the side, recalling how I used that same statement a week ago. “That’s not fair.”
“Trade for trade.”
