Music to My Ears

Chapter Seven (You Gotta Get Over It.)

Lili’s P.O.V.

After God only knows how long, Keaton’s phone buzzed in my pocket.

“I swear, if that’s Wes.”

I looked down. Wes. “It is.”

Keaton rolled his eyes. “You read it.”

“’Kay.” I opened the text and read it out loud. “I’m gonna eat your brownies if you don’t-“ The rest of my sentence was bring to an end by Keaton hauling me back towards the room so abruptly I almost fell, causing me to laugh.

Keaton’s mouth flew open like the door did. “Don’t. Touch. My brownies.”

Everyone burst into amused snorts, giggles, and guffaws. (Yes, I just said guffaw. The word laugh is getting annoying.) Wesley handed Keaton the plate and Keaton sat down next to Drew on the couch and gingerly peeled back the Seran wrap. Slapping Drew’s hand away from the plate, Keaton selected a brownie and bit into it.

As soon as the chocolate touched his tongue. Keaton’s eyes got huge. He swallowed before talking. (Thank God. It drives me nuts when people talk with their mouth full.) “Oh. My goodness. These are so good. Did you make these?”

“From scratch,” Colby muttered crisply.

Holy snapping turtles. It sure is someone’s time of month.

Keaton raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

Why is it so surprising that we bake from scratch?

* * *

Justin had left to get something from his tour bus. Nick, Wes,  and Drew were talking to Colby about something in the other room. It’s kind of getting annoying how they keep leaving, but I guess it’s better than Nick and Colby glaring at Keaton the entire time. So, that left Tiffany and Maci stuck in a conversation with Keaton and me about cats.

He really likes cats.

Meow.

The door swung open and Justin stepped inside pitifully. “Only in the Midwest can the temperature change thirty degrees in six hours.”

“Is it cold outside?” my ever practical sister worried from the corner.

Justin nodded. “For a mid-American summer.”

“Don’t Canadians like the cold?” Tiffany scoffed.

Justin rolled his eyes. “That’s like saying all Africans like sweating their butts off.”

Tiff shrugged in resignation. She doesn’t really care if it was a stereotypical comment.

Keaton squeezed my shoulders before getting up to walk in to the other room.

I mimicked Tiff’s action from a second ago at all the confused looks. How am I supposed to know what he’s doing? I can’t read minds.

Keaton quickly returned with a sweatshirt in his hand. He sat back down and placed it in my lap.

“What’s this?” I asked quizzically.

“A sweatshirt.”

I poked his side. “I can see that, silly. I meant what’s it for?”

“You.” He winked.

I playfully rolled my eyes. “Whyy?”

He wrapped an arm around my waist and poked my side causing me to giggle. Now there’s two people who’ve found my only ticklish spot: Colby and Keaton. “Do I have to have a reason?”