I gazed up at the New York City skyline. “Would you think I was weird if I said no?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “I won’t think you’re weird.”
“Then no, I’m not interested. Big cities aren’t my thing,” I shrugged.
“God, you’re perfect,” he grabbed me, kissing the top of my head.
“I’m far from it, but I’m glad you think so,” I smiled as we started back to the subway station. I was already dreading what we might encounter on there.
By the time we got back in the car, my stomach had completely settled, and I was ready to do something else. Seeing monuments and museums was interesting, but it was time for something a little more…exciting…like bungee jumping.
Trace plugged his phone in and—wait…was that? No way.
Trace looked at me with wide eyes as I began to laugh hysterically. I clutched my stomach, struggling to breathe, as tears coursed down my face from laughing so hard. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you have the Spice Girls on there.”
“I didn’t put it on there, I swear—”
“This is too funny,” I wiped my face free of tears. “’I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want. So tell me what you want, what you really, really, want. I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, really, really, really, wanna zigazig ah,’” I sang along to the song.
Trace shook his head and then joined in.
“’If you wanna be my lover,’” he pointed at me as he sang along, ‘”you gotta get with my friends. Gotta get with my friends. Make it last forever, friendship never ends. If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give. Taking is too easy, but that’s the way it is.’”
Then we started singing together. It was so hard for me not to burst into laughter.
“’Slam your body down and wind it all around. Slam your body down and wind it all around. Uh, uh, uh, uh. Slam your body down and wind it all around. Slam your body down and zigazig, ah…If you wanna be my lover.’”
When the song ended, he turned the volume down.
“The Spice Girls,” I giggled, shaking my head back and forth. “What else do you have on there?” I eyed his iPhone.
“Once upon a time I had a big crush on Ginger Spice. Don’t judge me, woman,” he joked, changing the playlist. “And there might be one Britney Spears song on there.” I eyed him. “Okay, maybe two. But don’t tell me you never had a crush on one of those 90’s boy bands.”
“I did,” I smiled.
“Which one?”
“Backstreet Boys,” I admitted.
“And who was your favorite?” He asked, fighting a smile.
I squirmed in my seat. “Brian,” I muttered.
“’Everybody, yeah. Rock your body, yeah. Everybody, yeah. Rock your body right. Backstreet’s back, alright.’”
“I can’t believe you know that song,” I bit my lip to stifle my laughter.
“I think every kid growing up in the 90’s knew that song, not to mention countless other pop songs,” he shrugged. “You couldn’t escape them. Don’t worry, my parent’s still exposed me to the classics,” he smirked.
“What’s your favorite song then?” I asked.
He bit his lip, his eyes narrowed in thought. “Don’t make me choose. I love all kinds of music so it’s impossible for me to pick one.”
“That’s a sucky answer,” I frowned. “But I don’t think I have a favorite song either.”
“See?” He grinned, finally backing out of the parking space after our impromptu Spice Girls sing-along. “There are too many good ones to pick only one. I don’t even have a favorite artist or band. Picking one over another would be like…” He paused, thinking. “Like picking a favorite child. Impossible and unfair.”
“Do you think your taste in music has changed since you were younger? I know mine has,” I kicked my sneakers off, getting comfortable since I had no idea how long it would be until we stopped.