“What music do you like?” he asked between calls. “Cheery, chirpy pop.” Wincing, he pulled up a station that delivered exactly that. “You owe me.” “Come on”—she turned in her seat to face him once more—“it’s not that bad.” “I’m sorry? I can’t hear you past the sugar blocking my eardrums.” MusicBastienKirby Book:Secrets at Midnight Source: Secrets at Midnight