I know for a fact my guitar is worth exponentially more than I paid for it at a yard sale, but I downplay his approval. “It’s not a ’57 Gretsch or a Martin, but I like it.”
“That’s what she said,” he mumbles, making me laugh against my will.
I’ve been blasting music, and so far, Jace has sung everything from The Doobie Brothers to Whitesnake with me.
For real.
The harmonies flow like we’ve done this our whole lives, which is fun even though heisincredibly full of himself.
“But still,” he scoffs. “How can you show your face in a guitar legends T-shirt with a measly four-chord repertoire?”
This endearing brand of obnoxious reminds me of my friends back in Kentucky. I don’t want to jinx it, but I think moving here for school was a good move. Not that I’m willing to admit it yet.
“Listen, I don’t see your name on this shirt, and the store didn’t check my ability to play anFchord before they sold it to me, you douche waffle.”
Man, I love it when I can be myself.
I jump up on the kitchen counter and motion for Jace to hand me the items on the bar behind me.
“I’d offer you lessons, but you’re a violent little cupcake, aren’t you?” Jace passes my dishes and pans up to me withoutquestioning why I’m standing on the counter to put kitchen supplies on shelves he could easily reach. It’s how short girls get things done. I’m sharing this space, so some of my stuff will have to go on top of the cabinet.
“Is maintenance aware that this townhouse has a pest problem?” I clap back to the violent cupcake comment, but nothing shuts this guy up.
“Does Annie know how hostile you are?”
Apparently, Jace lives behind us, so he already knows my roommate, Annie Parker. Shedidmention neighbors who watch the complex like guard dogs, but surely, she meant some nice retired people—not a guitarist with a big mouth.
When she gets home, there will be questions. I’ve only met Annie in person twice, but we’ve been talking and texting nonstop since we met in the student center when I came to tour the campus.
Her previous roommate moved without warning, leaving Annie with this adorable townhouse she couldn’t afford on her own. I was tired of online-only classes and ready to get out of my parents’ house …again.
I’m a little older than Annie, but being the big sister is my usual gig, and I feel too old to live on campus.
“That’syourfree sample. Annie loves me. The only thing we disagree on is how much Taylor Swift should be played in this house.”
“Uh, none?” He cringes.
“Aww. Did we just become best friends?” I squeal like a teenager, my deranged smile wide with mock excitement before returning to my natural expression of indifference.
“We may have, Cupcake.”
Since we’re already calling each other names, I predict my tolerance for Jace will be low. My gut says he should come witha warning label not to exceed the maximum dosage even if we do share similar interests.
The music app freezes, spreading awkward silence over the room. “Hey, can you fix the music so I don’t have to climb down?”
“Maybe. If you ask nicely.”
“Jace, prince among douche waffles, will you please refresh the music?”
“You’re not nearly as sweet as you look.”
“Sweet?” I laugh. “You must be a terrible judge of character if that’s what you thought.”
“Punk.” He smirks.
Despite how it sounds, we’re having fun.
Iama punk.
