Page 37 of The Devil's Tattoo

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“That’s a hard one,” I replied, thankful he’d saidsomething.

“Why?”

I shrugged. “There aresomany.”

“Can I look at your iPod, then?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “You always seem to have it in yourpocket.”

Surprised again, I pulled it out and handed it to him. “Goforit.”

I watched as he scrolled through it and melted a little when he smiled at some of the things he cameacross.

“The Clash?” heasked.

“I love their albumCombatRock.”

“‘Straight to Hell’ is myfavoritesong.”

“Mine, too,” I said carefully, narrowingmyeyes.

Helaughed. “What?”

“What acoincidence.”

He looked back at my iPod. “You have some great bands—Editors, White Lies. Love them. FriendlyFires?”

“I like their last album.Pala.” It was a light, dancey electro record, and it didn’t fit my image at all. “I’m kinda bummed that White Lies haven’t come to Australia yet. I’d really like to seethemplay.”

“Aren’t they like on their third or fourthalbum?”

“New one is comingoutsoon.”

He handed back my iPod, and his hand lingered against mine for a moment too long. It looked like he was struggling with something, and Will came across as the kind of guy who never struggledatall.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a minute of awkwardsilence.

“You’vesaid.”

“I haven’t been myself lately.” He didn’t look up at me, and for a moment, I thought he might have been embarrassed. “I’ve done some stupid things, and I’ve made youuncomfortable.”

When I didn’t reply, he glanced up, and Ishrugged.

“I wanna be friends with you,” he said. “Have I stuffedthatup?”

When he said the wordfriend, I tried not to visibly cringe. That was Simone’s issue, wasn’t it? Being stuck firmly in the friend zone. She and Chris had feelings for each other but still couldn’t seem to actonthem.

“I’ve got this song in my head,” I said, gathering up my phone and iPod, trying to be nice about ditching him. “I want to go write it out before Iforgetit.”

Before I could say ‘see you later,’ Will’s eyes lit up. “Can I help? I mean, I’d like to seeyouplay.”

“Why?”Was he trying to torture me orsomething?

“Why?” he scoffed. “Because you’rebrilliant.”

“You’re only saying that to be nice,” I declared, downing the remainder of mydrink.

“I watch you every night,” he said carefully like he was afraid of scaring me away. “You’rebrilliant.”

With a sigh, I slid off the barstool and took a few stepsbackward.