Page 2 of Playing the Backbeat

Twenty minutes later, Dylan hands me the bag of takeout before pulling into a parking space in the Taco Bell parking lot and turning off his car, leaving the radio on.

“Should we wake them?” he asks, nodding toward Dom and Ellie, who are passed out in the backseat, tangled up in each other like a cute, drunken pretzel. Ellie’s cheek is pressed into Dom’s chest and Dom’s jaw is resting on the crown of Ellie’s head. Soft snores whistle from both of them.

“Nah, I think we should let the kids sleep. Their food is forfeit.”

“No mercy. I like it.” He takes a bite while I put a straw in both of our drinks.

“You can’t save Taco Bell. The scientific composition changes completely. Better to eat it now before they even realize they missed out.”

“Ah, so you’re a scientist,” he muses.

“Nope. Business major,” I mumble between bites of my food. I swallow before clarifying. “Data analytics. I hated disappointing Bill Nye after everything he taught me growing up, but my brain and science just don’t get along. Me and math get along much better.”

His eyebrows lift, and he chuckles. “I studied business too. You take econ with Professor Meyers yet?”

I groan. “Oh my god,yes.” I grip his forearm, the muscle tensing beneath my fingers. “Do you know the secret to passing his class?”

“The secret is taking it twice, I’m afraid. Or in my case…three times.”

“Dammit. You should have lied to me.”

“You’ll be in the majority if you don’t pass the first time around. Trust me.” He takes a sip of his pop, and I have to remind myself not to stare at his profile.

“So you graduated with Dom? In business? Or did Meyers diminish your spirit so badly, you changed majors?”

“Luckily for me, the third time was the charm. I graduated with my bachelor’s in business and a minor in music.”

That catches my attention and I side-eye him as I dig into my second taco. “Music, huh? Let me guess…guitar?” He shakes his head. “Vocalist?”

“Can’t carry a tune to save my life.”

I narrow my gaze, studying him. The black swirling details of his tattoo weave up his right arm, from his wrist to the sleeve of his shirt, where it disappears from view. His dark blond hair is still falling perfectly—fucking effortlessly—across his forehead. His bottom lip is slightly larger than his top, and maybe I study his mouth a bit too long before he clears his throat.

Maybe I should kiss him. Nothing screams romance like a post–Taco Bell kiss to the sounds of two grown adults snoring, right?

“Any other guesses?” Dylan is clearly amused by my lingering perusal. “Don’t disappoint me, Dee.”

“Pianist,” I say, my voice breathier than I intended.

“Drummer,” he corrects.

“Ugh.” I drop my head back before letting it loll to the side to give him another obvious once-over. “Should have known with those muscles trying to rip free from your sleeves. There’s only one thing hotter than a guy drummer.”

“And that is?” I can tell he’s fighting a smile as his eyebrow lifts.

“Female bass players.” I shrug. “Sorry. Once again, I have to stay true to the science.”

“Can’t argue with that. You’ll have to come to a show down at the Bridge to confirm your findings.”

“The old concert venue on Front Street?” He nods, taking another bite of his food. I’ve been wanting to take the girls there for months now. Ellie and I share an apartment with Bec and Carissa. Bec and Ellie have been friends forever, while Carissa and I were paired up as roommates for our Freshman year at the University of Columbus. We were lucky enough to find ourselves in the dorm room across the hall from Ellie and Bec, and last year, we found an apartment the four of us could share. The Bridge isn’t too far from our place, if I remember correctly. “Okay, the business and music degrees make a bit more sense now.”

“I’m lucky they brought me on full-time after I graduated,” he explains. “You really should check it out sometime. Besides, I think we’re bound to see more of each other, don’t you think?” he asks, checking on Dom and Ellie, who have only slid farther into the backseat, practically lying on each other.

I bob my head from side to side thoughtfully. “I could see these two working out.”

He chuckles. “Please. They’re practically already married.”

“Should I be worried? Ellie’s an angel. I don’t want to fight him, but I will.”