Oliver offers no response, just keeps his eyes locked on his phone screen.
“My time is running out. Worse? I can’t even enjoy the festival because I’m stuck here.” I sound whiny, like I’m on the verge of a tantrum, but I don’t care. Rose got her way,like she always does. “And there’s nothing we can do about it.”
Faint, muffled music sounds from beside me. When I glance over, I realize why. Oliver’s wearing his earbuds. Guess he wasn’t listening to me lament. Or maybe he was and decided to tune me out, which is the more Oliver thing to do, if I’m being honest.
I glance down at his screen. Guns N’ Roses.
I tap my finger near his phone to grab his attention. “Fun choice.”
Disbelief is splayed across his face as he removes an earbud. “You listen to Guns N’ Roses?”
“Youlisten to Guns N’ Roses?” I fire back. “Never picked you for a classic rock kinda guy. Mozart? Sure. Chopin? Definitely. Or maybe a math podcast—”
“Who listens to math podcasts?” he says, incredulous. “Boring.”
“Right? Maybe I would, though, if I was having trouble falling asleep.”
The corners of his mouth rise, just slightly, but I catch it. Wow, did Oliver and I just agree about something? How unlike us.
“How’d you get into Guns N’ Roses, anyway?”
He looks at me sidelong. “I like music that’s guitar-forward.”
Joe told me he was saving up for a guitar. I wonder if he already plays. Maybe he wants to start taking lessons. Ha, what if my dad gave him guitar lessons in exchange for my calculus tutoring? On second thought, no way. Inviting Oliver into my apartment? Bad idea. So bad it might just give me nightmares.
“They’re fine, I guess,” I say. “My dad listens to them all the time. All those classics, really. Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Queen—he’s been trying to drill them into my head for years.”
“Do you—like it?” Oliver says cautiously, then clarifies. “That kinda music?”
“Eh, I don’t know. Some of it’s good, but generally, it’s a bit heavy for my taste.”
“It’s not all heavy.” Oliver searches for something on Spotify. “Let me show you a really good one. Here.”
He doesn’t glance up at me as he offers me his earbud dangling from the wire, just holds it out and waits for me to accept.
I hesitate. “Uh, that’s okay.”
Now his eyes meet mine. “Come on, it’s just a song.”
And before I know what’s happening, he sticks it in my ear. I have to scoot a little closer so the cord tension doesn’t stretch, and once I’m settled, he taps Play.
It’s another Guns N’ Roses song, and when I glance at his screen, I find the title: “Patience.” It doesn’t start out guns blazing—pun intended—but acoustic. Slow and a little sad, but sweet and hopeful at the same time. The lyrics are about missing a girl and needing patience in order to make things right.
And . . . I don’t hate it.
When it ends, I meet his eyes. “Not bad.”
Oliver smiles, a real smile with dimples appearing on both cheeks, and my heart suddenly skips like a record. It happens so fast I think I’ve imagined it.
Blinking this reaction away, I gesture to his phone. “Okay, what are your thoughts on Queen?”
Oliver’s eyes flash with excitement. “I actuallyreallylike Queen.”
“Me too. What’s your favorite song?”
As he thinks, he cups his chin in his palm. “Probably ‘Don’t Stop Me Now.’”
“Oh, that’s a good one.” His phone still sits on the table between us, so I tap the screen to navigate to the search bar. “I’ll show you my favorite.”
