Rob.”
Trevor nodded, a knowing look coming over his face, and I knew what was coming. I dreaded it, but there was no way to stop it.
“Rob Burns?”
“Uh… yes. I am.” Rob raised his eyebrows in surprise. “How’d you recognize me?”
“Those sunglasses and that hat don’t fool me.” Trevor laughed.
I hid a smile behind my hand.
“Besides, Miss Taylor talks about you all the time.”
Inwardly, I groaned, but I couldn’t do anything except stand there and smile like an idiot.
“She does?” Rob turned his head and lowered his sunglasses to look at me. “Really?”
“I think y our Mom’s calling you, Trevor,” I lied, rocking back on my heels. She was on her phone, obviously momentarily distracted.
“ Miss Taylor played us your songs,” Trevor explained. “She taught us how to count beats, one, two, three, four…”
Trevor stomped his foot on the floor, singing along to “You Can’t Break a Broken Heart.”
“Awesome!” Rob laughed, watching Trevor belt out the lyrics. Then he started stomping too, singing along. I watched, aghast, as Rob started from the beginning and the two of them sang a duet. Rob was too good not to draw a crowd and Trevor was a little ham, belting out the chorus so loud he wouldn’t have needed a microphone even if he was on stage.
Trevor’s mom was off the phone and stalking over as they song ended.
“Good job, little man!” Rob laughed, giving him a high five. “You rock!”
“Thanks, I know.” Trevor grinned.
“Come on, Trevor.” His mother stood a little back, looking askance at me. “It’s time to go.”
“ See you tomorrow, Miss Taylor!” Trevor waved, heading toward his mother.
I was worried someone else would recognize Rob, especially after that performance, but the crowd broke up and no one even asked him for an autograph.
“Maybe those sunglasses are magic,” I mused as Rob took my hand and we started out of the room.
“Music teacher?” Rob looked sideways at me, ignoring my teasing. “You’re a music teacher?”
“So?”
“So why didn’t you pursue your real talent?”
“My real talent?” I blinked at him.
“Oh come on, Sabrina.” Rob swung my hand as we neared the front of the museum. The ceilings were high, one whole wall pai nted with the Detroit Industry Mural by Diego Rivera. We’d stopped at it in the start, taking it in from beginning to end, and then from a distance. It was magnificent.
“Okay, so I can sing.” I shrugged. “A lot of people can sing. But you know, very few people get to the level you are. Not everyone can be a star.”
“But you could be.”
“I don’t think so.” I laughed, blushing, shaking my head as we neared the front entrance. “Hey, where are we going?”
“I’m hungry.” He rubbed his stomach under his denim jacket. I was still shocked he was wearing denim in the middle of February but he didn’t seem to get cold. “Let’s go eat.”
“Okay,” I agreed. I was still kind of full from breakfast, but that had been hours ago. We walked to the car and I thought he’d dropped it, but as soon as I was driving, he asked again.
“So why didn’t you ever pursue music… for real?”
“Teaching music isn’t for real? ” I rolled my eyes, giving the car some gas as the light turned green. “Someone has to teach the future stars.”
“Come on, Sabrina.” His hand moved through my hair. He not only had magical sunglasses, he apparently had magical fingers. Every time he touched me, I melted.
“Let’s just say I had very practical parents and I was an only child.” I rounded the corner, not looking over at him, but I felt his gaze on me. And his hand, still stroking my hair.
“Huh.” He slipped his fingers under the collar of my jacket, seeking skin, his hand cradling the back of my neck. “It’s a good thing I never had those.”
“”What’s that mean?” I did look at him then, as I p ulled into the parking lot and started digging quarters out of the
Trevor nodded, a knowing look coming over his face, and I knew what was coming. I dreaded it, but there was no way to stop it.
“Rob Burns?”
“Uh… yes. I am.” Rob raised his eyebrows in surprise. “How’d you recognize me?”
“Those sunglasses and that hat don’t fool me.” Trevor laughed.
I hid a smile behind my hand.
“Besides, Miss Taylor talks about you all the time.”
Inwardly, I groaned, but I couldn’t do anything except stand there and smile like an idiot.
“She does?” Rob turned his head and lowered his sunglasses to look at me. “Really?”
“I think y our Mom’s calling you, Trevor,” I lied, rocking back on my heels. She was on her phone, obviously momentarily distracted.
“ Miss Taylor played us your songs,” Trevor explained. “She taught us how to count beats, one, two, three, four…”
Trevor stomped his foot on the floor, singing along to “You Can’t Break a Broken Heart.”
“Awesome!” Rob laughed, watching Trevor belt out the lyrics. Then he started stomping too, singing along. I watched, aghast, as Rob started from the beginning and the two of them sang a duet. Rob was too good not to draw a crowd and Trevor was a little ham, belting out the chorus so loud he wouldn’t have needed a microphone even if he was on stage.
Trevor’s mom was off the phone and stalking over as they song ended.
“Good job, little man!” Rob laughed, giving him a high five. “You rock!”
“Thanks, I know.” Trevor grinned.
“Come on, Trevor.” His mother stood a little back, looking askance at me. “It’s time to go.”
“ See you tomorrow, Miss Taylor!” Trevor waved, heading toward his mother.
I was worried someone else would recognize Rob, especially after that performance, but the crowd broke up and no one even asked him for an autograph.
“Maybe those sunglasses are magic,” I mused as Rob took my hand and we started out of the room.
“Music teacher?” Rob looked sideways at me, ignoring my teasing. “You’re a music teacher?”
“So?”
“So why didn’t you pursue your real talent?”
“My real talent?” I blinked at him.
“Oh come on, Sabrina.” Rob swung my hand as we neared the front of the museum. The ceilings were high, one whole wall pai nted with the Detroit Industry Mural by Diego Rivera. We’d stopped at it in the start, taking it in from beginning to end, and then from a distance. It was magnificent.
“Okay, so I can sing.” I shrugged. “A lot of people can sing. But you know, very few people get to the level you are. Not everyone can be a star.”
“But you could be.”
“I don’t think so.” I laughed, blushing, shaking my head as we neared the front entrance. “Hey, where are we going?”
“I’m hungry.” He rubbed his stomach under his denim jacket. I was still shocked he was wearing denim in the middle of February but he didn’t seem to get cold. “Let’s go eat.”
“Okay,” I agreed. I was still kind of full from breakfast, but that had been hours ago. We walked to the car and I thought he’d dropped it, but as soon as I was driving, he asked again.
“So why didn’t you ever pursue music… for real?”
“Teaching music isn’t for real? ” I rolled my eyes, giving the car some gas as the light turned green. “Someone has to teach the future stars.”
“Come on, Sabrina.” His hand moved through my hair. He not only had magical sunglasses, he apparently had magical fingers. Every time he touched me, I melted.
“Let’s just say I had very practical parents and I was an only child.” I rounded the corner, not looking over at him, but I felt his gaze on me. And his hand, still stroking my hair.
“Huh.” He slipped his fingers under the collar of my jacket, seeking skin, his hand cradling the back of my neck. “It’s a good thing I never had those.”
“”What’s that mean?” I did look at him then, as I p ulled into the parking lot and started digging quarters out of the
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