“
Michael leaned in, his voice turning low and heavy. “And how about me?”
I swallowed, still studying my drink. What song described him? What band?
That was like trying to pick one food to eat for the rest of your life.
“Disturbed,” I said, naming the band and still looking down at the glass.
He said nothing. Only remained still before finally sitting back and tipping his drink up to his lips.
Butterflies swarmed in my stomach, and I kept my breathing even.
“Drowning Pool, Three Days Grace, Five Finger Death Punch,” I continued, “Thousand Foot Krutch, 10 Years, Nothing More, Breaking Benjamin, Papa Roach, Bush…” I paused, exhaling nice and slow despite the way my heart drummed. “Chevelle, Skillet, Garbage, Korn, Trivium, In This Moment…” I drifted off, peace settling over me as I looked up at him. “You’re in everything.
”
”