Page 26 of Even After Sunset

He does that huffing thing again: like an exhalation of air through his nostrils, that’salmosta laugh.

“Litterbug?” He scoffs. “You know only five-year-olds use that word, right?”

“Five-year-olds.” I shrug. “And me.”

This time, he really does laugh. Anactuallaugh. “Man, you’re something else.”

“And you’re a litterbug.” I retort. And he laughs. Again.

I suppress a smile as he goes back to staring out the window, blatantly ignoring the sandwich just inches from his left thigh and the smell of fresh coffee that’s permeated the cab.

I press play on my Awesome Playlist; turn up the volume and stick my arm out the window, letting the wind pull my outstretched hand in an upward arch and then back. Up and then back…

The atmosphere feels less tense right now. The next song that comes on isSchool Friendsby Now Now: a little mellower and a little vibier. It goes with the scenery and with the mood. The road now twists and turns along the water, past pebbly beaches and long stretches of sand tufted with tall grasses. And boulders that beckon to be climbed and jumped off.

“You know your music sucks, right?” Silas’s gruff voice interrupts the guitar riff. He doesn’t say it in a mean way, more like it’s just a fact he’s sharing with me.

I glance over at him. He’s still leaned back against the head-rest, eyes closed.

“Your attitude sucks.” I say.

“Well, maaaybe…” he drawls, “… that’s related to the fact that your music sucks.”

Now this…thisis the kind of banter I can get into: challenging, rapid-fire quick, even flippant. But not aggressive. Which is why this last exchange feels like another victory: because from what I’ve experienced so far, Teenage Silas seems to harbor a lot of aggression.

“Okay then, Mister ‘I’m-such-a-music-snob-I-only-listen-to-music-that-totally-doesn’t-suck,” I tease. “What do you want to listen to?”

He opens his eyes, and shifts so that he can pull his phone out of his front pocket. He tosses it to me then leans back against the head-rest: “I don’t care… Play whatever.” He shrugs. “Any song on there will be better than the pop shit you’ve been playing non-stop.”

“Dayglow is notpop.”

“Well, it’s shit.”

“It’s catchy.”

“Exactly.” He opens his eyes and looks over at me. “Any song that’s catchy, by default, is also shit.”

I think for a second.

“What aboutCrazy on You,by Heart?”

He’s not as quick to reply this time. “Okay,” he eventually admits, “so there’s one exception.”

“And what aboutCloser To The Sun?By Slightly Stoopid?” I add. “OrMr. Brightsideby The Killers?”

He grins. He is full-on gorgeous, I realize, when he grins.

“Okay.” He passes his tongue along his lower lip. “Maybe half a dozen exceptions.” He sits back and then adds: “AndMr. Brightsideis not one of them, by the way.”

“Mr. Brightsideis definitely one of them.” I argue. “And I will prove it.”

I stack his full coffee cup into my now empty one and slide his phone into the cup holder, then slow down to pull over onto the shoulder of the road again. Once I’m in park, I lean forward to get at my phone. Silas watches in silence as I scroll through my playlists.

I press play, and Brandon Flowers’ raw voice fills the cab.Soawesome. I drop my phone into the cup holder next to Silas’ and maneuver Trudy back onto the road. Silas rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling again and it’s a beautiful thing. I silently vow to make him smile as many times as I possibly can for the rest of the day.

I lean into him, just in case he’s thinking about closing his eyes again. “Catchy, right?”

He groans.

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