Ashes in March

Chapter 8: Good

I've had this one ready for awhile but I kept feeling like it was missing something. Hope you guys enjoy.

Please listen to this song. If not to listen along with the chapter, but to appreciate its beauty. Thank you.

***

"Do you like music?"

I look over at him in the driver seat and wrinkle my eyebrows in confusion. It was one of those warmer November days, one where you don't have to wear three layers of clothes. So, I wore two.

The windows are rolled down and the wind whips the stray hairs of my ponytail across my face and I have that feeling. The one where I can't believe I'm sitting here, with this boy, and I'm warm and breathing and alive. I was having a lot of those lately, and I can't quite say that I minded.

"Of course, who doesn't like music?"

He shrugs. "What kind?"

I purse my lips in thought and wonder, Do I even listen to music? I can't remember the last time I consciously listened to the radio or any music at all, much less appreciated it.

"This is a test, March. Choose wisely," Ash says, a smirk on his lips.

"I didn't know there was a right answer for an opinion question," I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

He glances at me. "Well, not a right answer. But there is a wrong one."

"A wrong answer? To an opinion question?" I say incredulously.

"Of course," he laughs. We've made our way into town and Ash drives along one of the main streets lined with a bunch of little shops and restaurants.

"And what, exactly, is the wrong answer, Ash?" I cross my arms, turning my body halfway towards him. He looks at me and wrinkles his nose in disgust.

"Country," he hisses in revulsion. I laugh.

"Oh, come on. Country music isn't that bad, Ash," I say to which he scoffs.

"Wait, don't tell me you actually like country music," he says, braking at a red light. "I might have to rethink this whole friendship thing."

I narrow my eyes at him. "I don't mind it."

Ash throws his hands up in exasperation. "Oh, God. I was just starting to like you, March. Why do you have to break my heart like this?"

I feel a soft heat brush my cheeks, completely not unrelated to his words, and look out the window. He puts the car into park and I see that we are sat in front of a music shop, Hal's Records. "I didn't say I liked it. I said it was ok."

"I can't believe I know someone who likes country music. I think my head is going to explode," he says, incredulous.

I turn to glare at him and punch his arm before I can think about it. He turns and looks at me in surprise, his eyes wide and mouth open.

I stare back at him, no words to explain why I hit him but I watch as the corners of his mouth slowly pull up until his white teeth peer over at me. And he doesn't say anything. He only stares at me with this bizarre smile like I had just told him I had a box full of puppies in the back seat.

After a long few seconds, I ask, "Why are you staring at me like that?"

It takes him another few seconds to respond but he says, "You surprise me everyday, March."

"Why? Because I hit you?" I say, pushing open the door and stepping onto the asphalt.

Ash shakes his head and does the same. "Everyday, you change. You're more fierce and lively every time I see you."