Ch.6: He Doesn't Say It Out Loud.

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Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys

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Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys

Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Everything's the same.

Not really, but...I thought I wouldn't recognize it and I do.

Ian's family has the same powder blue couches. And that's the same, expensive-ass lamp that we almost broke beyond repair. His mom's glass figurines are still on display, but those are at least three times the amount that I remember. And that's...us, on the beaten up frame on the wall. We're next to his dad on that one fishing trip we took, which I had totally forgotten about.

Why did nobody take that down?

"Do you want anything to drink?" Ian asks, closing the door behind me. "I have some grape soda if it's still your favorite."

"Sure." I guess he remembers too, huh?

How did your date go?

The hell? Did I say it out loud? No, I didn't— right? No. Wouldn't that have been creepy as hell and also made zero sense?

"Here you go!" he says, handing me a can and popping his own, orange soda as we head for the stairs. "How much time do we have?"

"Like...two hours," I reply, taking off my backpack when we reach his room. Okay, this part of the house changed a lot. I don't remember any...strings of tiny lights above his bed. Or the turquoise walls, and definitely no ukelele. "Do you play that?"

"Um... I'm trying," Ian says, closing his bedroom's door, too. "I really like how it sounds and I know it's supposed to be really easy? But it makes my fingers hurt and I'm such a baby about it."

I chuckle. "Right."

"Do you still play the guitar?"

No. "A little."

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