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“Not as smart as he thought he was,” Kai mumbled, drawing my attention, making me spin to find him scrolling with one hand while writing with the other, a talent I absolutely did not possess, and definitely envied a bit.
“You found something?”
“Any chance you guys considered Connecticut for a honeymoon destination?” he asked, smiling about the raised-brow look I sent him. Who went to Connecticut for their honeymoon? “Then I think we have something. Give me one more… yep,” he declared, nodding. “He was looking at a new townhouse development being built. I guess he has his sights set on the Nutmeg State.”
“Nutmeg State,” I repeated, lips twitching. “You’re making that up.”
“Nope. It’s not the official one, but it is widely used,” he declared, jotting down an address before powering down the computer. “So… road trip?”
Was there really a choice?
I needed to know.
Kai would never let me do it on my own.
And, quite frankly, with my head all over the place, it was reassuring to have someone around who could keep theirs on right.
“Stop back for salads and a bag?” he suggested when I just stood there, processing.
“Ah, yeah. Don’t you need to…”
“Got some clothes in my backpack,” he declared. Because, well, of course he did. Everyone in the office had a bag packed. In case of last minute trips out of town.
“How far is it?” I asked once we were safely back in the car, no embarrassing mugshots of fingerprinting in our futures, it seemed.
“About two and a half hours. Not too bad. We could be there well before dark.”
With that, we went back to my place.
Kai repacked the salads while I threw some things into a bag, just in case we ended up needing to stay overnight.
It was only when we were on the road again, this time for an extended ride, that Kai’s hand went to fetch something out of his glove box, producing a red iPod, plugging it in, then toggling through with deft fingers since he never once took his eyes off the road.
You could have knocked me over with a feather when a very familiar voice came booming out of the speakers a moment later.
My gaze went to Kai’s profile, scrutinizing it for a long moment as Miley started singing about a Hoedown Throwdown.
I figured it a fluke as I sat there, staring out the window.
But when Miley transitioned into Britney and then Britney into Nikki, I found myself turning, watching him for a long moment until he hit a light, turning to me. “What’s up?”
“This is my playlist.” It came out like an accusation. Maybe it was. Because he had my playlist. How did he have my personal playlist? Why?
“Yeah,” he said simply, nodding.
“Why do you have my playlist? How?”
“I follow you.”
“I’m sorry?” I heard myself ask, tone a bit sharp.
“On Spotify,” he specified. “You make the best playlists.”
“Really?” I asked, suspicion plain in my voice. “So you’re a big Miley fan, huh?”
To that, he snorted. “No. But I figured your Come On, Get Happy playlist was needed right about now. If I had my choice, we’d be listening to Billy Joel Soothes the Soul.”
“You’ve memorized my playlists?”
“Only a handful.”
Since I had at least three dozen, that was not that many. But still… odd. Surprising. And, to be perfectly, one-hundred-percent honest… almost a bit scary.
Not because I thought it was creepy, that Kai was some kind of stalker.
But because of what it meant.
It meant that he did see more than I realized.
It meant he saw some of the silly parts of me that next to no one got to see.
And he didn’t seem to view me any differently because of them.
“Want something different?”
I reached for the iPod he handed me, scrolling through playlists I had poured over, trying to make each one set a mood, evoke a feeling.
What I really felt the need for in my soul was Sounds of Sadness. But I didn’t want that to overtake me, let the bad feelings out, where someone else might be able to see it.
So I picked Drift Away, something meant for relaxing at home with some wine, just unwinding down after a long day.
“This one is my favorite,” Kai declared, surprising me, always having figured him for an upbeat music kind of guy.
I guess I didn’t know him as well as I had thought.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
And on a day when there were too many things to feel about, I chose not to feel at all.
It was a survival technique.
I wasn’t sure I could handle it all if I let it take over me.
So I took it all, smushed it together, and locked it away. To be dealt with later. When I was alone. When no one would be around to see the breakdown. When no one would watch me need to meticulously sweep up the wreckage.
