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He laughs a belly laugh that annoys me. "Yeah. A little."
I scour my mind, trying to match this man with anyone I've seen on TV. Unfortunately, this means I need to study him again and trip the switch that allows my attraction to him to flow again. "Are you an actor?"
"Nope."
"Musician?"
"Correct." He straightens, as if he's waiting for me to reveal that I know who he is.
"I don't listen to much music, so that's probably why I have no idea who you are."
"You’ve never heard my name?" His amusement grows, his smile sharpening those amazing cheekbones.
"I don't know band names, never mind the people in them." I bite down on my cone, getting annoyed.
"Seriously? Well, I'm glad then." He reclines in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head, "because now you'll keep being you."
I think back to Grant's Sky, the one who attempted to mould herself to someone's ideal and lost herself in the process.
"So what sort of music?" I ask.
"Loud. Guitars."
I wrinkle my nose. "Heavy metal?"
"Hmm. More rock than metal."
"Which band?" I could pretend I knew if he tells me. Or doesn’t he want me to know? I’m confused.
"Guess."
"I told you, I don't know band names."
"Then why ask?"
I shrug. "Maybe so I can tell people about my secret holiday with the famous rock star." I snort and Dylan's amused look disappears. "Or not, I really don't care."
Dylan fixes me with his ocean eyes. "And that, summer Sky, is why I like you."
We sit silently, and I concentrate on eating while ignoring the giddy, giggly feeling of sharing ice cream with someone famous.
Even though, I have no clue who he is.
