Social Experiment

10 | Asked and Answered

Enjoy, I love this chapter!
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My fingers were tapping against my knee more out of nerves than to the beat of the music, considering I was slightly disappointed when I got into Reese's pick up and country was playing. It wasn't my favorite genre, to put it nicely, but I had too much on my mind to really care. Instead, I was busied with the excitement of finally figuring out what and where "the tracks" were.

After all, if Nathan and Alex know about them, then Thomas does too. Maybe going to the tracks would clue me into the 'other side' of Thomas that Nathan had alluded to when he said I didn't know who Thomas Clark really was. So as we drove past the city limits, I paid attention through the passenger's seat window and remembered which roads we were taking to get there.

"So, how long have you known Nathan?" Reese asks conversationally as he glances in my direction with a sheepish smile. "Sorry if that's nosy, but I saw you two talking in the store earlier."

I laugh at his nervous backtracking and tell him, "We've been in high school together since freshman year, but we were never really friends until a week or two ago."

He nods in understanding. "Do you go to Littleton High?"

"Yeah," I answer, and then realize I've never seen him around before. "Do you go to Kennedy or something?"

Reese's lips quirk up as he answers, "I go to Drexel."

I move my gaze from out the window to steal a glance at his profile, which was only lit up by the headlights and street lights. "So you're a college man, huh?"

He spares a quick glance at me and smiles. "Yeah, I'm a sophomore there."

"What are you majoring in?" I ask in genuine interest as I wonder if he and Stephanie have ever crossed paths before.

"Music engineering," Reese glances at me quickly and adds, "And I have a minor in music theory."

"That's awesome," I supplement. "I take it you want a job in the music industry?"

I look back out the window as Reese got off at the next exit and continued driving through a deserted looking town. For a fleeting second, I worried that he was going to take me to some barn and kill me, but then I remember the pepper spray my mom always makes me carry, and decide I can fend for myself. Besides, Reese seems like a nice guy, and it was a little too late to start to think otherwise.

He chuckles and asks sarcastically, "What gave it away?" I laugh along, and then he says thoughtfully, "I've always been really into music ever since I was a kid."

Talking to Reese came easily considering we were discussing my favorite topic: music. I grew up sitting in the living room with my dad on Sunday mornings as he played his favorite vinyls, teaching me to appreciate older music from a young age. I had an admiration for Frank Sinatra that couldn't be rivaled by anyone, not to mention Louis Armstrong.

"Who's your favorite artist?" I ask curiously.

Reese shakes his head. "That's a hard question." Then he glances at me sideways and asks, "Who's yours?"

I try to think of just one, but end up looking at him with a defeated smile. "You're right, it is a hard question." I try to narrow down my favorites and eventually answer, "My favorites are probably Billie Holiday and Van Morrison. But I'm also a sucker for the Rolling Stones, as you've already witnessed."