“Like?”
“Old stuff. You know, N’Sync, Backstreet Boys…” he was blushing again. This was yet another thing that piqued his friend’s interest, another thing he yet had to figure out. Why did Lucas always blush?
He’d noticed it when Gillian had demanded what movies he liked, actors, other past times, and when Parker had entered a heated battle as to which the best soccer team was- Parker had insisted it was Italy, while a red-faced Lucas had quietly tried to maintain that there was nobody above the Brazilian giants.
“Cool.”
Lucas returned a shaky smile. “I pretty much hate the newer music.”
“How come?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “they’re annoying.”
*
“Did you hear?”
Gillian’s excitement was apparent.
“You have a shot at being normal?”
“Shut up, Parker. I’ve got awesome news!”
“What could be more awesome than hope that you could be normal?”
“Parker!”
“Just kidding,” he raised his hands up in defense before Gillian would hit him. “What is it?”
“Concert.”
She felt smug as his mouth fell open. “No way! Here? Who?”
“Rihanna.”
His eyes narrowed as he peered at her suspiciously. “Really? You’re just messing with me, aren’t you?”
“I’m nicer than you, alright?”
“I’m going to have to agree with her.”
Drake and Lucas had arrived just in time to hear Gillian’s final words.
“I thought we were friends!”
“Idiot.” Drake smiled. “What’s up?”
“Rihanna’s coming to town!”
“Oh, wow. When?”
“Three months,” Gillian supplied.
“Sounds good.”
“What do you think, Lucas?”
“Oh, uh, that’s cool! I can’t go though.”
“How come?”
“The volumes will probably make me deaf.”
Gillian and Parker knew, nothing else was necessary. “Oh, right. Sorry!”
“I’ll live.”
“Still, she’s so good! And you’re going to miss it!”
“Yeah, well, if you never go, you don’t miss anything. Besides, there’s loads of other artists I like that I can’t listen to.”
Drake had been listening, silently, but upon Lucas’ last statement, his forhead creased. What?
“You like her a lot?” he asked, looking him directly in the eye.
“Yeah,” he said easily, “she’s one of my favorites.”
Drake couldn’t believe his ears. It had been a while, a month, perhaps, but Lucas had admitted that he hated the artists of her kind! He was sure of it; their conversation had moved onto discussions on individual artists, and he’d said that he didn’t like most of them, that the dislike was irrationally hatred, because they seemed to be everywhere. So how did she become a favorite? His eyes narrowed – Lucas had forgotten his own words, hadn’t he?
Oddball - II
Zacznij od początku
