Page 34 of Romance Is Dead

“Yeah, well. Relationships and I don’t mix. And how could I party with all those girls from Instagram if I was tied down?”

Now there was the Teddy I knew.

Before I could reply, Teddy’s arm shot out, twisting up the volume knob.

“Ooh, this is my favorite.” He tapped out the beat on the tops of his thighs as the opening bars of “Bohemian Rhapsody” rang out.

“It’s everyone’s favorite.”

“No way, it’s a deep cut.”

I snorted. “Are you serious?”

Teddy said nothing, just mouthed the opening lyrics in an exaggerated way as he stared at me, daring me to join in as he twisted the volume up even higher.

“You look ridiculous!” I shouted over Freddie Mercury singing about being a poor boy.

In reply, Teddy rolled down the window and started singing the words for real, his voice surprisingly strong and rich.

“Hey!” I reached for the button to roll the window back up. “It’s late.”

“And there’s so many people around.” He motioned outside, where nothing but dark fields flanked the car. He shot me a wicked look. “Lighten up a little!”

I was about to retort that I was in no way uptight when I noticed an irresistible glint in his eye. The song was really getting going now, the familiar plinks of the piano getting louder.

“Fine.” I rolled down my own window, turned up the music even higher, and belted along with Freddie as he lamented to his mother about killing a man.

We sang along to the whole thing, my voice straining and breaking at the higher notes. But I didn’t care—the wind was whipping my hair and Teddy was making wild conductor motions in the passenger seat and I was drumming along on the steering wheel, and for the first time in years I forgot about all the bullshit. I forgot about gossip magazines, and my failing career, and even the possible killer who was on the loose.

All I knew or cared about was the music, and the rasp in my throat as I took in great lungfuls of fresh air, and Teddy singing along with me, note for note.

When the song ended, Freddie’s voice gently trailing off, Teddy reached out to lower the volume.

I swatted his hand away. “Let’s see what’s next!”

He grinned and leaned back in his seat, and then we sang along to the Pixies and Blondie and the Cure, not stopping even as we rolled into town and the chance of someone hearing us grew exponentially higher.

I finally turned it down as I pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, the two of us out of breath. I parked, disappointed that the drive was at an end. Compared to the energy in the car, the idea of going back to my lonely room was unappealing.

“Thanks for coming with me.” I reached into the backseat for my bag. “If I’d been there alone with Scott, I probably would have gotten myself in trouble.”

“No problem.” He didn’t say anything else, but he also wasn’t moving to get out of the car. He just stared at me, a hint of a smile on his mouth.

“What?” I asked, suddenly suspicious.

“I remember you, you know.”

My hand froze on its way to grab the keys. “What?”

“That night at the party. I kept waiting for you to mention it, but you never did.”

There it was again—that stare, with his ocean-blue eyes focused so intently on me that I couldn’t look away.

I threw my keys in my bag and fiddled with the zipper. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Now who needs acting lessons?”

“You left with that woman, I figured you didn’t remember. . . I mean, you obviously preferred—” My cheeks heated. I really didn’t feel like reliving the humiliation all over again.

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