“Girl power rock?”
I sniff. “What even is that?”
“You know, Pink. Heart. Katy Perry.”
“No,” I say.
“I give up.”
“You give up? You haven’t mentioned tons of genres. Country, punk, classical, emo. Come on.”
“Okay. Country? Punk? Classical? Emo?”
“No.”
She makes a growling sound I can barely hear over the rhythmic thump of the windshield wipers. “Ollie Fletcher, you are the most irritating man alive.”
I laugh to myself. “Okay, okay. Surf pop. The Beach Boys, Jan and Dean—that kind of thing.”
“What?Youlike surfer music?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Because everything about you screams ‘jock,’ and ‘jock’ doesn’t exactly scream ‘Beach Boys.’”
“You’ve watched way too many ‘80s movies if you think people are separated into boxes like that.”
“Beach Boy are ‘60s,” she says.
“You get my point.”
One of the trucks finally gets around the other, and Poppy changes lanes to get around the slower semi.
She side-eyes me quickly after she passes a handful of cars taking caution to the extreme. Poppy’s a good driver. The few glances she gives me are the most distracted she gets.
I like that about her.
I force myself to look out the window. It doesn’t matter. In a couple of days, we’ll never see each other again, and we’ll both be happier for it.
“I like The Beach Boys. One of my best friends got me hooked on them, in fact. But I like classic rock and some country too,” she says.
“Let me guess: you’re obsessed with Lucy Jane,” I say. She’s one of the biggest names in country right now with just enough crossover to blues and Americana that I can deal.
“I’m a woman between the ages of 18 and 50. Yes, I’m obsessed with LJ,” she confirms. “Starlight is my favorite.”
I nod. It’s a good song. “You know, she’s engaged to my friend’s brother.” The words are out before I can stop them. Am I trying to impress her?
“Wait.” Her mouth falls open, and she does a slow blink. “She’s engaged to Patrick O’Shannan. That makes your friend …Sean O’Shannan. The hot hockey player married to Kayla Carville! You have the best life!”
“Funny enough, I don’t find Sean hot.”
She laughs. “I mean you’re friends with a famous hockey player and his billionaire wife.Kayla Carville!The woman is iconic, always holding one of those sleek tumblers that matches her outfit. Epic.” The snow around the front of the car looks like a ship in Star Wars zipping through the galaxy. “Wait, LJ was at Kayla’s wedding! I saw the pictures. Were you there?”
“I was in the wedding party.” I hate to admit how much I like that she’s impressed. “Kayla’s actually my boss.”
She almost whimpers with envy. “You are so lucky.”
“It’s not like having a famous boss and famous friends does a whole lot for me.”
