Delirium

Chapter Eleven: The Parents

Liv scored through the vinyl offered by Hawkin's very own All that and a Record store. It was quite an impressive spread of modern and aged vinyl. It had more to offer than Harrisville's Music etcetera. She liked it even more because Steve brought her.

"What about The Stones?" He flipped The Rolling Stone's 1981 Tattoo You album for her to view. She glanced at the red backing and the gray portrait of a man's face with what she assumed were Newspaper headlines.

"Of course you would like the Stones," she teased him as she went back to her own search.

Steve scoffed and put his album back with the others. "What's wrong with that? They're popular."

"Too popular," she commented. "And overly used by boys in high school who think they're too cool, oh-" she gave him a wide-eyed glance. "That fits you perfectly."

He walked behind her and slowed as he gave a hefty, "haha," into her ear. She giggled and raised her shoulders to protect her ears from his hot breath. He moved around her to look on the other side of her. "You can't diss me for The Stones when you're heavy into Queen."

She gasped and stopped her search as she turned to him. "Queen is a legend. The range of Freddie Mercury alone is incomparable. No other male artist can do what he does."

Steve lifted his brows as he looked through his stacks. "You know, I always thought it was a chick-" he spared her a glance. "Until your die-hard rant about him the other night."

She shrugged unapologetically as she turned back to her section of vinyl. "People need to know of his vocal genius. Bohemian Rhapsody will be an anthem long after we die. I want to Break Free literally feeds my soul."

Steve hummed as he dove into his search. "And Pat Benatar?" He teased her further. "Please tell me how she's a lyrical genius or- or whatever."

She huffed at his insensitivity to good musical taste. "Her music is about love and heartbreak. How can you hate it? I listen to Love is a Battlefield after every bad date. It helps remind me that love is still out there regardless of my previous shit taste in men."

He laughed and moved closer to her to sift through more vinyl. "Love your optimism on our date."

"This is a date?" She crinkled her nose teasingly.

He stopped, his fingers pulling two vinyl apart, to glare at her. "You're hilarious, truly."

She smiled and leaned into his arm. "I know. Aren't you lucky to be here with me?"

He looked at the wrinkles across the bridge of her nose to her slanted lips. He couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, I'm pretty lucky."

"Hm." She stood and returned to the vinyl. "How do you feel about The Beatles?"

"Ugh-" he dropped his head back. "Do not tell me you're into The Beatles?" He said it so loud others looked their way. She snickered as she peered at the innocent bystanders watching his theatric show.

"So what?" She asked challengingly.

"So what? So what? Liv-" he turned to her and grabbed her biceps to turn her toward him. His eyes widened enough to pull at the healed scab by his eye. It tugged enough she feared it would rip open and ruin all his progress. At this rate only one more week until we can kiss. "You can't be one of those girls obsessed with The Beatles! Everyone at my school listens to them. I can't escape them."

She laughed at his dramatics. "They're British. You can't beat that, Pretty Boy."

He rolled his eyes so extravagantly she was sure they would fall out of his head and onto the dirty floor. "British? Is that all it takes?"