Page 40 of Ardently Yours

“Did you just ask me that?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at me in that way she does so often. “As if you don’t know?”

“What?” I shake my head. “I really don’t know that song. I just assumed it was a song because you attempted to sing the words.”

She playfully hits my arm. “Attempted to sing the words? Wow. You are really trying me tonight, Darcy.”

I playfully tap her arm in return and ask, “Are you going to tell me the name of the song you attempted to sing or not?”

“It’s ‘Nobody’s Perfect’ by Hannah Montana, duh.”

I look at her, waiting for her to say she’s kidding. She doesn't. She looks completely serious. “Hannah Montana, as in Miley Cyrus’s character from that Disney Channel show from back in the day?”

She gasps, looking offended. “So you do know who Hannah Montana is?”

I laugh, almost choking on my latte as I take another sip. “She isn’t real. You know that, right?”

She glares at me. “Nobody asked for your pessimism about one of my childhood icons. And I bet you’re just trying to distract me from the point I was making. You do know who Hannah Montana is, which means you definitely probably watched it when it was airing on Disney Channel.”

“Okay, you got me there. I know the show, but I didn’t really watch the show. My sister did though. Our parents were a little strict, so we couldn’t watch anything outside of Disney and Nickelodeon. But I’m not as familiar with the songs from the show Hannah Montana.”

She takes a bite of her cinnamon roll, chewing and swallowing before she speaks. She’s sizing me up the whole time though.

“So you mean to tell me you’ve never listened to a Hannah Montana song or a Miley Cyrus song, for that matter, but you listen to the Jonas Brothers?”

I think it’s my turn to be shocked. I almost gasp, but instead I lean back a little and tilt my head at her. “I never told you that I listen to the Jonas Brothers.”

She rolls her eyes at me again for what feels like the millionth time today.

“You don’t have to tell me that you listen to the Jonas Brothers, Darcy. I can always hear it blasting through your headphones when you’re in full-on baking mode. It’s actually pretty funny to watch you floating around the kitchen bopping along to the Jo Bros.”

I fold my arms across my chest as she laughs at me. “Are you hating on the Jo Bros?”

She gawks at me, licking the icing off her fingers. I watch her do it, and for some reason I can’t look away. Then we lock eyes, and I quickly avert my gaze, taking another sip of my latte.

“Darcy, be for real. I love the Jonas Brothers. Back in the day and now. I just saw them in concert last year in Chicago.”

“No way!” I exclaim, geeking out a little. I clear my throat, and she giggles. I try to regain my composure. “I was there too! I went with my sister. We had front-row seats. It was amazing.”

She laughs again, and I almost feel self-conscious before I realize she’s not laughing at me. She’s laughing because she’s sharing this with me.

I let myself relax a little, usually feeling weird about sharing the things I love with other people for fear of being rejected or laughed at, especially as a Black twenty-something man who’s a Jonas Brothers fan. I’m not shy, but I don’t have many people to bond over something like that with except for my sister.

Lizzie beams, saying, “I was up in the nosebleed section with my sisters, but I agree. It was absolutely amazing. I stood up the entire time and totally freaked out when they sang ‘Waffle House,’ ‘Year 3000’ and Burnin’ Up.’”

“Same!” I beam at her, reliving memories from the concert in my mind. “My sister was actually the girl Joe picked for ‘Backwards’ at that concert. If I let her, she’d literally find any reason to bring that up.”

Another gasp escapes Lizzie as she takes it all in.

“No way. I so wanted to be one of the girls they picked. I actually brought a sign to the show. I had it printed at the local drugstore, and since one of my favorite songs is ‘Burnin’ Up,’ the sign I made said, Sing Burnin’ Up for the Girl in the Red Dress.”

I have to ask. “So let me guess,” I interrupt. “You wore a red dress?”

“Obviously, Darcy.”

We’re laughing again before settling into a comfortable silence as we finish our cinnamon rolls and drinks. Then she picks up her pen, pulls her curls into a ponytail with the hair tie she’d been wearing on her wrist, and opens her journal again.

She taps the section she’d titled Romantic Partnership before looking over at me. “And how are we supposed to do this? For real?”

Her question brings me back to the reason we’re even sitting here. I’d rather sit here talking about music with her. I’d rather talk about anything else. But I realize we have some things we need to figure out.