𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑

𝟒

I can get used to this.

"Favorite song?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"Pretty Woman by Lo Noom, but it changes, like, every two-to-five business days. I've been addicted to that song for weeks now, so God knows when I'm going to get sick of it."

I hum, looking right at her as she puts blush on my cheeks.

"What's yours?" she asks me, blowing soft air where she applied the blush before blending it out with the fat brush again.

I have to think about that. Every song I listen to is good-how do you know what your favorite song is? They're all my favorite, I guess. Still want to give her an answer though, so I narrow it down.

"Summer by Phillip Larue or Bodies Lie by Fleece."

She perks up. "Oh, that's a good one."

"Which one?"

"Anything by Fleece is good in my opinion. I've never heard the other one."

When she reaches into the basket to grab something, I slowly stand up, my hands lingering on her hips a little longer than I intend to.

"We should play some music. I'm going to get my speaker."

She nods, watching me as I leave the room. I come back just a moment later and place the speaker on the ground as I power it on. Once it's paired, I hand her my phone so she can choose what she wants to listen to first.

As soon as I offer my phone to her, I know what's coming. I know that she's going to insist that I put something on first. Before she can object, I take her hand and force her fingers to wrap around it.

"Are you-"

I shake my head once, sitting back down on the couch. "Completely. Play something."

She chews her lip, hesitant as she watches me. I give her my best encouraging look and finally, she lets out a small sigh and tucks hair behind her ear as she scrolls, taps, types.

Soon, music fills the room in a soft hum. When she gives my phone back, I read the title of the song as I volume up the speaker. Live That Long by Lewis Del Mar. It's a little different than the song she mentioned just a bit ago, but the more I think about it, the more I realize she doesn't seem like the type of person to just stick to one type of genre.

I add the song to my liked songs. Maybe like she enjoys expanding and exploring in those little semi-artistic ways.

Within seconds, we're in the same position as before. Only this time she's mumbling lyrics and humming as she sticks little gems to my face.

"No, I won't live that long. But it don't feel wrong."

Her voice is ever so quiet as she concentrates on messing up, but I make her mess up anyway when my eyes snap up to hers. Startled, she jumps in her spot, an almost annoyed expression on her face. Before she can get that much more pissed off, I speak.