Page 17 of Sing Your Secrets
He does as I instruct and the familiar melodic intro to Ginuwine’s “Differences” rings into the air.
“Damn.” He looks more impressed than anything else. “Aren’t we two peas?” Setting my phone face up between us, our impromptu picnic date now has a little mood music.
“All right,” I make the come here motion with two fingers, “let’s hear your chops. Sing along.” I start the song over but turn the volume down.
“Uh, no.” He shakes his head and rises as smacks his hands together, then brushes them on his pants trying to rid himself of the grease from Out West’s kettle chips. Good luck. That grease really seeps into the pores. “Do you want a drink? I’ve got water and kombucha in the Jeep.” He nods toward his hunter-green vehicle in the gravel parking lot beside us. His bumper is so rusty and tattered that it looks like it might pop off at any minute.
“Kombucha?” Um, hell no.
“Don’t worry, it’s in a cooler.” He retrieves a precarious looking mason jar from his car and returns to me in a hurry. “I make it myself.”
“You make it?”
“I tinker with a lot of stuff. I make kombucha, yogurt…I garden a little.”
“And sing R&B?”
He grins. “Weird, huh?”
“Interesting,” I correct him.
“In a good way?” He tugs on the rim of his black beanie and a tuft of wavy dark brown hair becomes visible.
“I think it’s a great thing to be interesting in a world full of boring, predictable people. Don’t you?”
Holding out the jar he asks me, “Want to try?”
Gross. No. But he’s so damn cute. We have the same taste in music. Fuuuck does his shirt, that’s wrapped tight around me, smell delicious. “Sure.”
Taking a swig from the bottle, I force myself to swallow. It tastes like a rotten lemon-vinegar foot soda. I try to use my own saliva as a chaser.
“What do you think?” he asks. “It’s not my best batch. But also, not my worst.”
“Well, it’s…” I search through my mental thesaurus trying to find a nice way to say disgusting.
“It’s good for you,” Miles offers.
“Okay, let’s go with that.” I set the jar down.
“So, why not?”
“What now?”
“Why not sing something for me? I’m curious. Are you any good?”
His smile is soft and knowing like he’s got a secret. “If I say I have a great voice, does that make me cocky or confident?”
I shrug. “Depends on how you say it.” A sly smile crawls across my face. “Better yet, sing it.”
He chuckles. “No.”
“Why not?”
He opens his mouth like he’s got an immediate response, then shuts it as he changes his mind. “Because I’m on the spot and you’re really pretty.” He gives me an innocent smile and I’m tempted to just want to swallow up his lips right now.
Instead, I scoff. “Now who’s forward?”
Tapping the back of his knuckle against his chin, his eyes droop. “All right you want the truth?” I nod, keeping my eyes locked on his. “I haven’t felt like singing lately. I’m a little—”