“You’re missing the boat, dude. I keep telling you— country’s the new rock. There’s a gold mine to be had there.”
“I already have a gold mine. Now who’s ready for Bieber?”
* * *
We were about an hour into his playlist when an acoustic song came on. Bodhi stealthily reached over and pressed forward without taking his eyes off the road.
“What was that?” I asked, my gaze fixed on his chiseled profile. “I actually liked that.”
“Really?”
A small smile curved his lips so I picked up the phone to investigate. “Ahh, it’s yours.”
Two spots of color stained his cheeks. “And that’s why I skipped it.”
“Why is it on the playlist if you didn’t want me to hear it?”
“Because, and I know this might be hard for you to comprehend, Breeze, but before we metyesterday, I actually had a life unrelated to you. My guess is I added that song weeks ago and forgot it was on this particular playlist.”
“Or,” I mused. “You rushed to add it just for me and then skipped over it to get my attention.”
His sigh was all for show. “Sure. Yes. That’s what happened because I had so much time to plan between breaking my father’s heart and right now.”
I pressed the back button. “Well, anyway, I’m going to listen to it and you’re going to be quiet while I do.”
Bodhi shook his head, but I didn’t fail to notice his smile. “And you don’t have a boyfriend? It’s mind boggling.”
“I know, right? It’s always puzzled me too. Anyway, lucky for you, the position is open and I’m currently taking applications, just, you know, FYI.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
“And Bodhi? Keep in mind that although being a country music fan isn’t required, it might bump your application to the top of the pile.”
“So it’s a big pile, huh?”
“Fairly large, yes. Now be quiet so I can hear your song. I need to see what we’re working with.”
The track wasn’t a typicalAnyDayNowsong, focused on girls and partying and hip hop dance beats. This song was raw, stripping away all pretenses. Just a boy and his guitar. And that voice. He sang of love and loss with haunted lyrics that spoke to my wounded heart. Whoever he’d written it for caused him pain, and I wanted to be the one to ease his suffering.
Bodhi focused on the road while I listened, then re-listened to the tune. His numerous sideways glances told me he was interested in my opinion, but he had just enough fear of my answer not to ask. Before I could play the song for the third time, he covered my hand with his.
“I didn’t know you could sing like that,” I said once I could formulate a thought. “You’ve got a little of that raspy tone to your voice but at the same time it’s so smooth. And what was the high pitch thing you did toward the end? I got goose bumps. You’re super talented, Bodhi.”
He blushed at the compliment, though I wasn’t sure why. I’m sure Bodhi heard praise all the time.
“Thank you.” He smiled and I smiled back. The energy passing between us fortified me with the courage to say out loud what was screaming in my head. “She must have been pretty special, the girl in that song, for you to have loved her so much.”
Bodhi’s hand shot to his hair, nervous fingers sifting through the strands. When a good minute passed without a response, I added, “Anyway, it was a beautiful song. I’m assuming you wrote it.”
He nodded jerkily.
“Do you have more like this?”
“Enough to fill an album.”
“So then why haven’t you… filled an album?”
“I told you before, it’s not what people are expecting from me.”
