After DC told me I fit the qualifications of someone he'd murder, I never wanted to speak to him again. So I probably shouldn't have blamed him for something he didn't do, against someone he couldn't stand. It sort of cheesed him off...
Okay, this i...
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"You liked it." He said, it wasn't a question. The smirk on his face was so self-satisfied that I couldn't give him the gratification. I stared blankly at DC as he pulled a chair out at my lunch table and made himself comfortable beside me. But he was all smiles, undeterred by my silence. With a nod of his head, he repeated. "You liked it," a little more relaxed and relieved than before.
Beside me, Elyse sneered. "You know, if she gets a restraining order you'll have to move to a different house." She pressed her lips together, clearly annoyed with the fact that DC had joined our table. I thought for a moment that she was going to stomp off to the library and abandon me again. But apparently missing lunch two days in a row did not have much appeal, because Elyse eased back and focused her concentration onto her lunch tray with a poisonous glare.
DC chuckled, undeterred, as Lindsay pipped up.
"Liked what?" She asked, all curiosity, her round brown eyes focused onto DC's features with expectant pleasure. Whatever she thought he was going to say, it was clear that she'd already decided it would be gossip worthy.
I tensed, my shoulders gone completely rigid, but before I could open my mouth to deflect whatever DC was going to answer with, he'd already started talking.
"I made Care a mix," he said it with a shrug to his shoulders, but his eyes were bright.
Lindsay sighed, as if it were sweet or romantic, and Madison arched an eyebrow. I wasn't sure what made me more uncomfortable, the idea of DC explaining the band and my non-involvement in it, or letting the girls think that he was hitting on me. I mean, as if the mid-lunch necking wasn't bad enough!
Elyse rolled her eyes, stabbing a chicken nugget with her fork, but made no comment.
"So, you liked it, right?" This time it was a question. I felt my cheeks flush but I feared that if I didn't answer, DC would elaborate. And I couldn't imagine that anything he said would be something I wanted heard.
"Yes." I mumbled, blushing redder. He beamed at me, all energy and triumph, like he'd won an argument. But he hadn't won this argument. Okay, I liked the CD he'd made, how could I not? His acoustic was poetry, even when he wasn't singing the bare outlines of a song to the melody. There was something about the way he put the chords together that took me to a different place.
But that was his talent, not mine. And I still didn't see how I could possibly be contributing to his creative process in any way. The idea that I could enhance it was laughable. Laughable and terrifying. I wasn't singing in his band and there was nothing he could do to talk me into changing my mind about that one. Even assuming it was possible for me to sing in his band, my answer would still be no.
I didn't even know him. I wasn't sure if I cared to know him, actually, judging by our past encounters with one another. He terrified me, or intimidated me, or made me nervous… Or something. Either way, it was uncomfortable and I could definitely do without it.
