His Number One : The Sequel to Chemistry

Chapter 7

Tyler one handed the wheel of his father's car while he used his other hand to keep his flow as he rapped along to 'Lifestyle' by Rich Gang. He noticed using his peripheral vision that Lauren had stopped looking at her phone to look at him with distaste. He smiled humorously at her reaction and continued rapping.

"What are you doing?" she finally asked.

"Enjoying my music," he answered, then immediately began rapping again.

"You call this music?"

"What else would you call it?"

"Sh*t," she answered violently. "What is he even saying?!"

"I don't know, but it sounds good," he admitted, and continued singing along with the song.

Lauren stared at him for a few more seconds in discontent before reaching up and changing the station. "I'm sorry but I just couldn't take the ignorance anymore." She tended back to her phone.

"Lauren," Tyler began. "...who's car is this?"

"Your dad's!"

Tyler stared blankly ahead. "...Oh yeah."

Lauren shook her head and smiled. Tyler's oblivion was the cutest thing to her. "When'd you even start listening to stuff like that?" Lauren asked, returning to the previous topic.

"When I realized how good it was."

"Which was...?"

"Freshman year," he answered.

"You really think that stuff is good? Making music about drugs, and guns, and money, and- and sexualizing women is good?! It's disgusting and just downright pitiful!"

"Mom?" Tyler said leaning forward and squinting his eyes. "Is that you?"

"I'm serious, Ty."

"You're right," he agreed. "But at least they're creative enough to make the worst things in the world seem like the best things." Lauren was so taken aback by how stupid and weak that point was, that her brain couldn't even begin to comprehend a response to it. So she instead of speaking, shook her head in disapproval. "Am I right though?"

Lauren didn't plan on answering, but she couldn't even if she wanted to because she became extremely excited about the song that had just came on the radio. "I love this song!" she announced.

"Not this crap again," Tyler moaned instantly recognizing the song.

"I stay out too late!" Lauren sang. "Got nothin' on my brain! - At least that's what people say-ay-ay mm mm-,"

"See, that's your problem," Tyler interrupted.

"What?"

"You only like the type of things you think you're supposed to like. Like, pop music for example. And shopping at Charlotte Russe or Forever 21. And Justin Bieber."

"I don't like Justin Bieber!"

"That's a shocker."

Lauren gasped. "Are you stereotyping me?!"

"You're stereotyping yourself," he argued. "You're afraid to be your own individual because of what your friends and everyone else might think."

"That's not true."

"Oh yes it is."

Lauren opened her mouth to object, but quickly closed it. And instead said, "How?"

"Look at your boots," Tyler said, nodding his head downward at her boots. His eyes remained on the road.

Lauren looked down at her Uggs and shrugged. "So?"