“
have it all planned out.” He lifts up his hand to start listing things off. “On Monday, I was thinking Carly Rae Jepsen, then on Tuesday, some Justin Bieber—because everyone loves the Biebs—and on Wednesday I’d sing some Taylor Swift. On Thursday, I was thinking that new Selena Gomez song, it’s perfect for our situation, but Friday—” “STOP!” I yell. My hands lift up, ready to strangle him if he doesn’t stop talking. This is something I really, really need to think about. Now, he’s basically admitting to wanting to torture me with music—which is not a good thing—if I refuse him. If I do agree to the date, it’s only one night, a few hours of my life. Maybe I should just agree even if I really don’t want to. What’s the harm, really? “I will go out with you,” I relent quietly; admitting defeat, damn it. “Seriously?” Ryder’s eyes widen. He looks shocked. He looks like he didn’t expect me to cave so quickly. “Yes, if it means that I never, ever, have to hear you sing again.” I heave out a loud, rough, exaggerated sigh. “I will. One date.” The sound of his shrill squealing is on constant repeat in my brain. “No one should hear you sing. Ever again.” “That bad, huh?
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