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After taking a few deep breaths, Hunter’s voice tore me from my thoughts. “Ready to take off?”
And that simple question only reminded me that I asked him to be here. I did this to myself. Visiting my brother may be the whole reason behind this little trip, but I did tell Hunter I wanted to get to know him.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I answered, watching as he shifted the gear into drive, making his way out of the parking garage and onto the main interstate.
There was a pause in our flirty banter before he handed me his phone. “Here, choose whatever you want to listen to.”
“But you’re the one driving. Isn’t it like … some unwritten rule that whoever is driving gets to pick the music?” His phone burned in the palm of my hand like a hot potato. It was rare for a man to just hand their phone over to a woman.
“I’m not picky. Just choose something. I’m more interested in what kind of music you like anyway.” He nodded at the music app he opened on this phone.
“I’m not sure what I’m in the mood for.” I scrolled through some of his playlists just to see if we had anything in common. And of course, because he was a guy, I was already bending the rules for—sorry, breaking the rules for—he just had to go and have the most perfect taste in music, didn’t he?
“But it looks like you have some good options here.” I played it cool as I selected the playlist he had titled, ‘depressing shit.’
His rough laughter escaped his throat when he realized the title of the album was displayed on his dash.
“Guess I should have renamed that album, ‘depressing but also a good vibe.’ Has a better ring to it, don’t you think?”
“Well, for starters, I love a sad girl playlist. After all, my early twenties were dedicated to festivals and going to Warped Tour any chance I got. Emo music is great if you want to be in your feels, but it’s also nice for moments like these when you might want something mellow so it’s not such a huge distraction.” I shrugged.
“Mellow? Sounds like you’re more into the rip your heart out acoustic ballads like Dashboard Confessional have to offer, while if I had to pick, I’d choose the more upbeat, ‘cut my wrists and black my eyes’ kinda vibe.”
Jokingly, Hunter threw up his hand, creating the rock-on symbol.
“Which emo band I choose to wreck me all depends on my mood.” I smiled, realizing just how crazy that sounded. “Which sounds depressing as hell now that I say that out loud.” Unable to help the laugh that slipped out of me, I scrolled through the playlist and chose one of my old favorites. “But on a road trip, I’d definitely let Dashboard Confessional blare through my speakers with the windows down.”
“Screaming Infidelities” played, immediately bringing me back to a time where I’d listen to the harsh breakup song on repeat—even if at the time it came out, I had no idea what the lyrics actually meant.
“Does this mean you don’t want the music to distract you from all the talking we’re about to do?” Hunter responded to my choice in acoustic music over the harder rock stuff. He was completely relentless and hellbent on getting straight to the deep topics since our choice in music wasn’t conversation enough to scratch this itch he had to get to know me.
“Fuck it. You caught me.” I held up my hands in surrender. “Actually, what I really want to know is why you have a playlist of depressing music.”
I tried to keep the conversation light, although it didn’t quite work out as I intended.
“I have a dead wife, remember?”
All color left my face because fuck, why didn’t I think about that? I was such an idiot.
“Hunter, shit. I’m—”
“I’m kidding. I mean … kind of, not really.” With one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other held his jaw, hiding a pent-up sigh. “What I’m trying to say is, that was a dark joke that didn’t land the way I wanted it to. And I do have a depressing playlist that I actually haven’t listened to for probably a decade. I figured you’d search something random and not go through a lifetime of music that I haven’t thought about in years.”
“I guess I was just as curious as you were when it came to your taste in music.” I swallowed, feeling like this road trip had taken a complete one eighty in the mood department.
And I guess it matched the vibe of the playlist after all.
“Hey, forget about it.” Hunter’s hand reached out, landing on my bare thigh. Everything about his subtle touch caused the hair on my arms to rise.
Because I felt like an ass, for probably the first time in my entire life, I changed the topic to something more difficult for me to address. That way, it would take the pressure off a subject that I’m sure wasn’t first on his list to talk about.
“My brother…” My gaze was glued to his hand that was burning through my flesh. “He’s in prison because he killed a man in a drunken hit-and-run.”
“Damn.” Hunter squeezed my thigh, grabbing my attention. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“I might as well get it over with, seeing as how we are on the way to the slammer anyway.”
“I’m here to listen.” He turned down the music from the buttons on the steering wheel, giving me his full attention.
