Page 231 of Stay Scared

“A synth-pop compilation.”

I stare at him.

Owen’s expression remains perfectly controlled.

That makes it infinitely funnier.

“What kind?”

“The terrible kind.”

“Define terrible.”

“The cover has neon palm trees.”

A laugh punches out of me.

Owen looks irritated, although the corner of his mouth gives him away.

“You own a neon-palm-tree synth record.”

“I regret telling you.”

“I am going to remember this forever.”

“I know.”

The words land differently now.

There was a time when Owen knowing something forever meant a file existed somewhere I never agreed to create.

This belongs to me because he told me.

“What do you do when you can’t sleep now?” I ask.

His gaze stays on mine.

“Sometimes I listen to records.”

“You stopped dismantling cameras?”

“Not entirely.”

“Progress.”

“The record player requires me to get up every twenty minutes.”

“To flip it.”

“Yes.”

“You hate that.”

“I did.”

“And now?”

Owen thinks before answering.