“Well,itliterallyblows my mind every single time,” I retorted with a laughof my own, trying hard to not pay attention to the song.
“You’retoo easy to impress. Yougottamake me try harder,”he said, turning in his seat to back out of the space.
Thiswas one of those moments when I liked to watch him. The widening of his warm,milk chocolate eyes as he looked backward. His elbow on the shoulder of hisseat, his fingers clutching the back of mine.The hand of hisopposite arm,tensed on the wheel and turning expertly. Absentmindedly.It was control and power driving a vehicle that big and it impressed me, when Icould barely handle Brooke’s station wagon.
Shadowscast by the parking lot lamps moved over his chiseled features, and I wonderedmomentarily why he was single. Why he was never with anybody. He was only myfriend, but I could acknowledge that he was the most attractive friend I’d everhad. Built like a contractor, muscled and defined, impressively tall, withdeep, brown eyes and a full head of hair to match. His jawline was made toslice through hearts everywhere and was peppered with the perfect amount ofstubble.
Okay,let’s be honest—Devin was gorgeous. I remember the first time I met him—at thatparty over a year ago, when he came to my rescue—and I could only stare for afew long, hard beats of my heart. I wondered what the hell a guy who lookedlike that, would want with a girl who looked like me. And now, after knowingevery part of his sweet and generous soul for over a year, I wondered why hewasted his free time with me and not with some girl who would at least put outfor him.
Hecaught my eyes and flashed me his lopsided grin. “The hell are you looking atKJ?”
“Nothing,”I said with a groan, rolling my eyes. I feigned my dislike toward thenickname—my initials—but I loved it. A special thing, just for me.
“Uh-huh.”
Ilooked out the window as he drove, twirling a strand of my orange hair around afinger. It had been a gorgeous bright red only a month ago, but it had faded toan ugly, rotten pumpkin color and it needed to be redone. I loved the purple—VivaciousViolet—I had a year ago, when I met Devin. I thought it suited me and thecool-toned pastiness of my skin, but I also liked to experiment, and thatred-turned-orange had not been a good one.
“Whatcolor should I dye my hair next?”
“You’reletting me pick?” he asked, his eyebrows raising toward his hairline.
“I’masking for asuggestion,” I said, poking him in the arm. The muscle ofhis bicep barely budged at the pressing of my fingertip.
“Um,what about pink?”
“Idid pink a few years ago,” I said, releasing a long sigh.
“Inever saw it.”
Ishrugged. “Okay, maybe I’ll do pink then.”
“Or… you could go back to that, uh, purple thing you had going on last year.”
“Youliked it?”
Thequirk of his lip raised higher. “Yeah. It was hot.” He turned his headmomentarily, stealing his eyes from the road to glance at me. “And I mean thatin the least creepy way possible.”
Ilaughed. “I’ll let it slide,” I said, as my stomach flopped excitedly at thecompliment.
Ileaned over and turned up the music. Devin sang along, his voice like butter,and I slumped against the door, listening. I could listen to him sing forever.
“Ithink I’m going to buy some studio time,” he said, mid-chorus. He blurted itout, like he’d been holding it in for too long, and I turned toward him withsurprise.
“What?”
“Yeah,”he said, nodding and glancing at me. “I mean, I’m not surewhenjustyet, but I’ve been writing a lot, and I have the money, and I think … I thinkI’m going to find a recording studio and see how much it would cost to get anEP made up.”
“Devin!”I bounced in my seat. “Oh my God! That would be amazing!”
Helaughed. “Well, I don’t know aboutamazing, but … I’ve been thinking alot, you know? I like working at my dad’s company, and I’m good at it, but I’vebeen there since I was eighteen. That’s six years, and when I think abouteverything I could’ve done with my music in that time, it just …” He rubbed ahand over his chin. “I guess it just feels like I’ve been wasting my time.”
“No,definitely. You need to go after your dreams,” I said, sounding like a fortunecookie, but it was true. “That’s what I’m doing. As soon as I graduate, I’mgetting my coffee shop, andyou’regoing to play there.”
Hechuckled. “You still think so huh?”
“Idon’tthinkso Dev—Iknowso.”
“Youdo know it’s going to cost you a ridiculous amount of money to make thishappen, right?” he pointed out, putting his knowledge of construction and realestate to use. “I mean, buying the place, renovating, inventory and—”
