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Lucas wouldn’t necessarily consider himself to be a music junkie– sure, he’d be a gentleman sometimes, taking his mother’s hand in his, dancing with her in the kitchen to that Otis Redding song she liked– but if you asked him what his favorite song was, he wouldn’t be able to tell you.
If he could be considered a music junkie, however, he couldn’t compare to Jane . Jane, who had entire shelves filled to the brim with different albums and vinyls and songs that she loved, some of which he hadn’t heard her listen to in years .
He knows that a portion of them were given to her by her dad, Hopper, not only because it was strange to see her brushing dust off of that old Ricky Nelson record considering she’s talked about Madonna being her favorite singer, but because they’ve bonded over their love for their parents, before, when the initial resentment between them grew gradually into a pleasant fondness and comfortability.
Maybe he is a little bit smitten with her, but who wouldn’t be, especially after you take her to meet your parents face-to-face for the first time and you catch her, in your kitchen, dancing with your mom to that Otis Redding song— the way you once did, all those years ago?
He remembers one of the first conversations they had, alone, together, and she’d stare wistfully at her shelf of songs– and then she’d talk about how when Hopper liked a particular song, he would bellow its slow, soulful vocals in that thunderous voice of his, sashaying across the living room with a hairbrush in his hand, and in his periphery, he’d see her giggling through her fingers, and he’d pick her up in a whirlwind, chuckling as she tried, and failed, to sing along with him.
While Madonna is undoubtedly her favorite singer, he alternates between Stevie Wonder and Michael Jackson, so they take turns listening to both. Jane’s more familiar with Michael Jackson, but it doesn’t take long before she’s humming I Wish under her breath and belting Don’t You Worry ‘bout a Thing out of his passenger seat window.
She likes Whitney Houston, too– she’s always had an affinity for pop stuff— so, when they wake up in the late afternoon, after they’ve tired themselves out from dancing and talking until early dawn, he makes sure to carefully place I Wanna Dance With Somebody on her record player, and he throws a few waffles into the toaster and a few eggs into some cast iron skillet for when she emerges out of their room.
Sometimes they reminisce on how shitty (well, for Jane, “badly”) her favorite songs sounded through Starcourt’s speakers, the words fuzzy and distorted, and the memories of them swaying softly together through the mall, hands gripped tightly around sodas and bags thrown haphazardly over their forearms (Lucas still doesn’t know how she convinced him to go into JCPenney with her), floods through them— and Jane sighs, fingers tapping her chin thoughtfully.
He’s never been a huge music guy, but he remembers when she asked him what his favorite song was, and he remembers his answer being something along the lines of I don’t know . He had a vague idea of what it could be, but nothing concrete.
Although, when Jane, smiling warmly, sees him sitting on the couch, pulling him up with her, pulling him close, twirling him to Stevie Wonder’s
Love’s In Need of Love Today
, giggling when her feet accidentally brush against his– he has an inkling his favorite song has been set in stone. He knows he’s not a
huge
music guy, but he knows he's a big enough music guy to keep up, barely, with her.