parking lot is already half full when we pull in.
“Thanks, bye.” I slam the door and look around for Mel’s dad. He must still be in the office—maybe he didn’t notice I was late. I dash over to Killian, who has just pulled the minibus around for boarding.
“Sorry. Bad morning.” I toss my backpack inside the bus and bend over to retie one shoe.
“You okay?” Killian gives me a funny look, and as I straighten up, I realize my hair is still in the ponytail I slept in, and I didn’t wash my face.
“Yeah. Just overslept.”
“That sucks.” He tosses me the keys to the bus. “Why don’t you drive today, and I’ll help load everything up?” He turns away before I can even thank him, and I climb onto the bus and collapse gratefully into the driver’s seat.
Killian turns. “Do me a favor and don’t change the radio station, okay?”
“Of course not,” I say. “I wouldn’t dare.”
He shimmies his shoulders. “Thanks. Not sure I could make it through a whole day without my girls Rihanna and Taylor Swift.”
The day passes quickly. There are a ton of reservations, so Killian and I drive to and from the canoe launch a dozen times, grooving to his music and loading up as fast as we can before heading up the river again. We barely even have time to eat lunch.
“So, I just have to ask . . . What is up with your musical tastes?” I say while we’re loading more canoes and getting ready to drive a birthday party reservation up to the boat launch. Eight-year-old boys in neon swim trunks scatter in every direction, shouting and chasing after one another, and a shaggy golden retriever joins the fray as well, barking happily.
Killian gives me a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”
“Pop music. It’s what thirteen-year-old girls listen to. And you listen to it all day, every day. At first I thought you just played that stuff on the bus because it puts the crowds in a good mood, but you actually seem like you’re addicted to it.”
“ ‘If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.’ ”
I raise one eyebrow. “Shaw again?”
He nods. “Of course. My way of admitting that, yes, it’s a little weird that I have a deep, lasting love for Beyoncé, but at least I’m owning it.”
“I don’t think most guys would admit to that. Like my friend Seth, who watched the fireworks with us. He hates pop music.” I hold out my hand, and Killian shakes a couple of chips into my open palm.
He wrinkles his nose. “And I’m guessing Seth thinks his taste in music is better than everyone else’s?”
“Well . . . yes,” I say. “But he’s not as pretentious as that makes him sound. He’s a really talented musician.” I stuff the chips into my mouth and chew slowly.
Killian shrugs. “I love pop music because it’s easy to love. It sounds good and I can dance to it and our brains are programmed to enjoy the repetitive patterns and chord progressions. Anyone who says they hate pop music because of the way it sounds is lying.”
“Elmo!” One of the dads chaperoning the group calls after the golden retriever dashing across the grass, brandishing a leash. “Elmo, come!”
I react before I’ve even really processed what’s happening, an image of the alphabet poster that used to hang in our elementary school library flashing through my mind. E comes after D. “Hang on a sec,” I say to Killian, grabbing some more chips out of his hand as the dog trots by. “Good boy, Elmo.” I hold out a chip, and Elmo hesitates, his nose quivering. “Come on,” I say. “Want a potato chip?”
“Hey!” Elmo’s owner yells. “Elmo, get over here.”
“It’s okay!” I wave and smile—no problem here, sir, just coercing your dog into giving me some love. Elmo trots over and noses my hand. I slip him one potato chip and crouch down, hesitating for just a second before I let the elated golden retriever slobber all over my face in gratitude for the treat.
Killian wrinkles his nose and looks down at me. “What are you doing?”
I straighten up, and Elmo gazes longingly at the rest of the chips clutched in my hand before he bounds off toward his owner, tongue lolling. “Um, nothing. Can’t resist puppy kisses.” And now E is crossed off the list, although I’m sure Mel won’t be too happy to hear about my canine conquest.
“Oookay.” Killian