Seth looked incredulously at Ryan, who reached over quickly and turned off the car stereo.
"Dude, I thought you liked Journey."
Ryan's jaw tightened as he gripped the wheel and drove in silence.
"I mean, wasn't that..."
"Put in a CD if you want," Ryan said.
"But I thought you just had to listen to your 'Rock of the 80s' program."
"Skip it."
"Oh, I get it. You like hard Journey, like that song...what is it, oh yeah, Separate Ways. But not the mushy stuff, right? Is the whiny, lovey, mush-fest Open Arms too unmanly for Ryan Atwood?"
"Seth, just put in a CD. Your pick."
Seth wrapped his arms around his shoulders in a self-hug and started belting out, "Lying beside you..."
"SETH. A cd."
"Alright. It's cool. Fine." He rummaged through his collection, opened his Modest Mouse CD, and slipped it in.
Ryan gripped the wheel and looked out the window at the passing lights. He drove on in silence, shutting out Seth and his music, at the same time desperately trying to suppress the image of Theresa, rivers of sweat running down the valley of her breasts, their tangled limbs, the duct taped vinyl of his back seat, and her whispers in his ear. "This will always be our song, Ryan." He could still taste the mixture of salt and sex on his tongue.
