Cat & Drew's Whirlwind Adventure

3. Happiness: A Choice You Gotta Make

Things are tense on the car ride home. Though he may have agreed to take me, I heard Troy grilling his dad from the second they came back into the shop, his inquisitive mind firing a million questions while Coach tried in vain to get him to shut up. We've had plenty of encounters before, that's a given in a town like Goodbury and with how involved his dad has been in my life, but this feels different. He hasn't said a whole lot, he's mostly just been rambling about his guitar and school, which leads me to believe that maybe I'm just imagining the tension. I'm not trying to be that way, but, as much as Coach was able to help I'm still not out of the woods yet.

Troy's always seemed like a nice enough guy, he's mostly just goofy and he likes to be the class clown, but beyond that we're not exactly friends. I watch him out of my peripheral, thinking I'm being so inconspicuous, but then he looks over at me fully, flashing a cheesy grin that makes the little spaces around his eyes all crinkly. He chuckles to himself, amused about something, yet when I try to figure it out he reaches over without warning and I recoil back into the seat instinctively. Luckily he doesn't notice, and his hand goes right passed me to the glove box, where he fishes out a vinyl case.

"Sorry, the old girl's not really with the times, we'll have to go old school." Troy muses, one hand on the wheel while he unzips the case on his lap with the other to reveal a score of CDs. More than the technical limitations of his truck, I'm most surprised by his taste in music, it too seems to come from a time long passed. He skims his collection, "What's your vibe, what do you like to listen to?"

His bantering throws me off and I don't reply, nowhere near in the right mind to chat like we're old friends. When I insist on maintaining my silence he glances over continuously, waiting, and that feels worse for some reason, so I relent with a stammer. 

"Oh, uh, I haven't really thought about it, I guess I just listen to whatever's on the radio," I say, giving him a safe response that apparently only amuses him more, because he scoffs skeptically. I'm having a hard time reading him as he adjusts his stupid backwards hat in the rearview mirror, I'm not sure how to feel.

"What a lame answer, you can do better than that," he jokes, trying to draw more out of me. "When you're in your room, all alone, what's the first thing you put on? You can totally tell me, I won't laugh, promise—this is a judgement-free zone."

"I don't really listen to a lot of music."

"Everybody loves music! You're breaking my heart here, that's like, my whole thing. Is it super embarrassing? Are you one of those people who secretly digs opera or something? Alright, alright, you at least have to give me your favorite artist." Troy is persistent, I can already tell I'm not getting out of this with my newly trademarked stoicism.

"Maybe, I don't know, Taylor Swift?" It's the first thing that pops into my head, but despite his promise he starts to snicker. Weirdly it doesn't feel too much like he's poking fun, more like I keep finding new ways to amuse him somehow when I'm not even trying. That doesn't change the intrinsic need I have to defend myself all of a sudden though. "She writes all of her own stuff, I think that's really cool."

"Hey, I'm not arguing with you, I can definitely see the appeal. Unfortunately, I don't have anything of hers, so we'll have to settle for expanding your horizons." He decides on a CD and slides it in. I'm no music expert, but whatever it is, I'm certain it would be classified as easy listening, and Troy jams out to it for a quiet minute before grinning again. "You surprise me, Drew. You know that? I wish my dad thought it was cool, the whole creating music thing, sometimes he can be such a drag."

"Yeah, I guess he has been coming down on you a lot more recently." Beyond my accidental foray into their business on the first day back to school, I've heard Coach complain about him more than once since. It's not that I'm suddenly feeling all that chatty, but it occurs to me that if I sit over here, brooding, sooner or later even Troy is bound to notice, and then all those questions he surely has will surface. So I do what I've been doing, I fake it, go through the motions. In all honesty, it probably helps that he's not super hard to talk to. I steal another glance, "he means well though."