‘A little?’ I reply, hoping there isn’t a follow-up question.
‘You’ve got to listen toAmnesiac; it’s not their most accessible work but it’s so rewarding. I’m loving Khruangbin right now, King Gizzard. Elliot Smith is my religion.’
While Oliver continues to list artists and bands I’ve never heardof, I listen attentively, twisting a strand of hair around my pointer finger until it pulls so tightly, I wince. It’s not that I don’t love to learn about all different kinds of music, I do, but until he mentions Taylor Swift, Sabrina Carpenter or Billie Eilish, I don’t have much of value to add to the conversation, and I’ve got a strange feeling he isn’t going to do that any time soon.
‘Why don’t you borrow this?’
He takes a step towards me and I hold my breath. With one hand, he reaches into the front pocket of his blazer, so close I can see traces of faded summer freckles on the bridge of his nose.
‘Here.’
A solid slab of metal wrapped in a pair of white wired earbuds, that feels and looks like a cell phone, finds its way into my hand.
‘What is it?’
‘Other than my guitar, it’s my most prized possession. My iPod. They’re rare now, everyone has their music on their phones, but this is so much better. No calls, no texts, no distractions. Just you and the music. It’s purer.’
Leaning his guitar against the low wall, he moves closer to me, pushing a switch at the top of the iPod then pressing a button in the centre to bring it to life.
‘There are more than fifty thousand songs on here.’ He sweeps his fingertip across the device, lightly turning circles to scroll through artists and albums, all of them displayed on a little colour screen above. ‘You need the playlists, that’s where you’ll find my essentials.’
Sure enough, he clicks through to not one, not two, but ten numbered playlists.
‘Start with one and work your way up. If I’m honest, number six is probably my favourite, but if you don’t know the work, you won’t appreciate it as much without the context of the first five.’
‘And I thought the homework didn’t start until tomorrow.’
Our eyes meet as he closes my fingers around the iPod, covering my hand with his. In the dusky twilight, the lamplight etches out his profile, his nose, his cheekbones, the one piece of wavy hair that’s falling in front of his eyes, and the way his mouth quirks up at one corner.
‘Mia?’
I blink. How did he speak without moving his lips?
‘Not to make myself unpopular but we could use you in the bar if you can tear yourself away?’
I glance over my shoulder to see Alice hanging out the back door, the pulsing bass echoing out of Members effectively destroying the moment.
‘Coming,’ I call as Oliver moves away and picks up his guitar case. ‘Just a second!’
‘I can’t believe she signed you up for this,’ he says, wrinkling his nose as he backs away. ‘There must be a million better jobs available.’
‘Pretty sure they’re going to fire me after tonight, so that’s good to know. Do you work?’
‘Between coursework and my music, there isn’t time.’ He slings the strap of his guitar case over his shoulder and it’s only when I see the muscles working under the skin of his strong forearms, that I realize I’m still wearing his leather jacket. Torn between my deep and passionate desire to keep it, sleep in it, and never take it off, and the fact it would be incredibly rude not to at least offer to give it back, I force myself to shuck my arms out of the sleeves and hand it over.
‘Thanks for the loan,’ I say, still cradling his iPod. ‘And thank you for this. I’m going to listen to those playlists as soon as I clock off.’
‘Try not to stay awake all night listening, you won’t need any help falling asleep during Quinn’s lecture.’
‘It can’t be that bad, surely?’
‘Not bad,’ he replies with a scowl. ‘It’s just that Quinn can be pompous. But that’s only my opinion, you can tell me what you think of him after class.’
He rocks back on his heels and I realize he’s not planning to come inside.
‘You’re not staying?’
Shaking his head, he pats the guitar case. ‘I don’t like bringing her into the bar.’
