Page 38 of Paint Our Song

Calvin Lowe wears glasses.

Miles is on his phone, reading through the group rules of Calvin’s fan club when he catches a glimpse of him in the corner of his eye. He looks up, then has to take a step back in surprise.

It’s been years since he started following the band, and yet he discovers thatCalvin wears glasseswhen he meets him in front of his own apartment building.

“Uh,” Miles says, eloquently. He fumbles with his car keys and hikes up his bag on his shoulder. It’s a little past eight in the morning, and he’s not quite ready for this yet.

Calvin frowns. “Did you forget I was hitching a ride with you?”

“No!” He clears his throat. “No.”

“Where’s Gabby?”

“She took a cab back yesterday.” His cheeks warm when he remembers how Gabby made up a flimsy excuse about having to go back to Ridgeford earlier than him. She came up with the excuseright after she found out Calvin would be hitching a ride. It was very suspicious, especially given how she winked at him.

They walk to the parking lot in the back of his apartment building and put their things away in the trunk. Miles goes ahead and gets into the driver’s seat as Calvin rearranges his things, and he takes that chance to give himself a pep talk.

I can do this.

“Thanks for the ride,” Calvin says as he gets into the passenger’s seat. “I can drive half of the way, if you’d like.”

They get on the road, and it’s only been a few minutes when Miles realizes they’re being too quiet. It’s too tense. He needs music. Miles reaches out for his stereo and stops short, his hand wavering. He usually puts on a playlist that’s mostly from Calvin’s band, and he’d look like an obsessive creep if he played it.

He puts his hand back down. “Want to connect your phone and play music?”

“Why me?”

“It’d be cool to find out what music you listen to,” he says, which may not be the real reason but is still the truth.

“My playlist sucks.”

“I highly, highly doubt that.”

Calvin rubs the back of his neck. “It’s all love songs.”

“So, just like your own music.” Miles flashes him a huge grin. “Which, you know by now, is what I’m into.”

He mutters something under his breath that suspiciously sounds like he’s calling Miles insufferable, but he clicks around on his phone and connects to the Bluetooth. Lewis Capaldi’s voice resoundsthrough his small car, and Miles could cry, because helovesLewis Capaldi. Holy shit.

“You need to stop smiling.” The way Calvin narrows his eyes behind those black-rimmed glasses is cute.

Miles grins even wider. “I had no idea you wore glasses.”

“I usually wear contacts.”

I like it,Miles wants to say.

It turns out they left at the perfect time. There’s barely any traffic, and they’re on the expressway a lot earlier than Miles expected. Calvin doesn’t say much, which Miles expected, and he soon realizes that a long car ride with him isn’t actually that unnerving, which is unexpected.

“Let me drive,” Calvin says, when they’re about an hour out and halfway there and a gas station—the same one they first met, even if Calvin still won’t admit it—comes into view.

“Sure, but let me get something from the store first.”

Calvin doesn’t accompany him to the store. When Miles gets back to the car, Calvin is already in the driver’s seat—adjusting things just the way he likes it.

“Want some?” Miles asks, holding out the open bag of gummy worms.

“That stuff’s not good for you.” Calvin’s eyes drift toward the bag in his hand. “No wonder you’re always so jumpy. You’ve got nothing but sugar in you.”