“It’s okay, I’ll get it for you,” Asher had said, but I’d tried to protest. He was even poorer than me, and he’d saved for a long time so he could buy something he wanted. I had tried to convince him not to waste his money on me, but he’d ignored my objections and bought it anyway.
We used to lie on the floor and listen to it. Learning the lyrics by heart and singing along, happy we hadn’t been as miserable as the singer seemed to be.
“I can play it now, you know.”
I jerked at the sound of his voice, not having heard him come back upstairs.
“What?” I asked as I looked up at him where he towered over me.
All the tension from before was gone, and the corners of his mouth were turned up in a fond smile.
“Your favorite song,” he said and tipped his head down at the record. “If it still is your favorite, that is.”
“Oh. Yes, it is.”