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“My work playlist,” I replied, feeling the heat of embarrassment flood my cheeks.

You’re beautiful, but your taste in music is trash, Jacqueline.

Goddamn, not this again.

Why do you insist on making me want to claw my ears out?

I frowned at the memory of Vincent’s words. How he hated my music. He thought it was tasteless, meaningless. He refused to listen to more than one song I chose in the car, or around the apartment we used to share. Whenever I turned on my music to listen to in the shower, he would sneak into the bathroom and turn it down so he wouldn’t have to hear it in the other room.

“Oh, gimmie.” Signe made grabby fingers for my phone. She waited patiently for me to remove my earbuds and put them away in their case before I showed her the screen on my phone. My playlist was still up, and it had the last song I was listening to fully on display.

“I forgot about that song,” Violet said, leaning around Signe to get a view as well, “That’s on your work playlist? What else is on it?”

I hesitated for a moment.

Then I forced myself to recall Mariam’s words.

If someone feels that comfortable putting down your likes and interests, they are the worst kind of person. They’re not your friends. Don’t hide that part of yourself, just give people the opportunity to prove that they care about you and your friendship. If they don’t, let them go.

That session with Mariam was about a year ago, the day before I discovered Signe’s secret romance novel that was essentially fanfic of Zaid. When I confronted her about it, she was distraught that I had gone to Zaid first. When she said she thought we were friends, it felt like a physical punch in my gut.

Later, after sorting the mess out with Zaid and learning that he was hopelessly in love with her (and nobody felt harassed in the workplace), Signe and I had a heart-to-heart where I admitted my music taste to her.

And she never made fun of me for it.

So with that in mind, I handed my phone over to Violet, who eagerly scrolled through the songs.

“Jacqueline,” Violet shifted her gaze toward me, “This playlist is fire.”

“Is that good?” I was horrid at keeping up with the newest slang.

“This is basically what I would listen to back in middle school and high school,” Violet replied.

“I still listen to half her playlist,” Mary added, smiling at me “Because you reminded me how fun the music is.”

I grinned, before finally taking my seat next to Mary, “There is something so nostalgic about recession pop.”

Signe threw her head back to laugh, making me jump in my chair at the abrupt sound. The other women started laughing too, even shy Jamie.

“Recession pop,” Signe wiped the corner of her eye, “That’s amazing. I’m making a playlist like this and titling it that.”

My phone buzzed, and Violet’s eyebrow shot up before she held it out to me, “Someone named Marco just texted you.”

“Oh.” I took it from her hands and sat in my seat, excited for what he had to say.

Signe leaned over, pressing her body against mine as she looked over my shoulder to see my text thread with him, “So…who’s Marco?” I could practically hear her eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

I smirked, “My brother.”

“Oh,” Signe leaned back, “Boring—wait, you have a brother?”

Marco: Sorry I didn’t respond, Dad and his new girlfriend dropped by unexpectedly last night.

Me: Oh really? How did that go?

Marco: As well as it usually does, except I was balls deep inside Samuel when they knocked so that part was awful.

I clapped my hand over my mouth, secondhand embarrassment for my brother flooding my veins.