John flashed a grin at him. “Right? I thought about that when you told me you like working on cars. I might ask you to change my oil sometime just so I can see you bent over the hood.”

Zack started to correct him—changing the oil would actually involve being under the car—but he thought better of it. Instead, he said, “I will bend over this engine literally anytime you want me to, no questions asked.”

John pressed a button, and the car purred to life. He slid his phone out of his pocket, tapped the screen, and music came pouring through the speakers. The surround sound was crystal clear, of course. Better than the best headphones Zack had ever owned.

“Okay, now you’re just showing off,” Zack said.

John smirked. “Maybe a little.”

Zack relaxed as John pulled smoothly away from the curb. He didn’t recognize the song that was playing. It sounded like some sort of indie rock band. Not exactly his thing, but he found himself tapping his foot along with the beat. He had no idea what the lead singer was saying.

“Who is this?” he asked.

John handed his phone over. Zack took it and swiped the screen. It was locked.

“Um,” Zack began.

“Five, nine, eight, one,” John replied without looking at him.

Zack blinked. He put in the passcode, and the phone unlocked. Zack wasn’t sure what to say, so he tapped on the music app instead. The name of the band popped up, but that didn’t actually tell Zack anything.

“Um,” he said again, “either this isn’t English, or you fucked the literacy right out of me.”

John laughed. “They’re a French band.”

“Right,” Zack said. “Do you . . .?”

“Speak French? Oui. Je parle français. Tu es l’homme de mes rêves.”

Zack swallowed. “Wow. I didn’t think I had a thing for French, but apparently I do.”

“Maybe you just have a thing for me speaking French.” John looked at him and smiled.

Zack’s heart fluttered. “What did you say?”

John turned his eyes back to the road. “Nothing. I just said I speak French.”

“So, French, Italian, and English? Any others?”

“Sé un poquito de español.”

Zack grinned. “Now that I understood.”

He had John talk him through some of the music library. Ninety percent of it was in English, and Zack recognized a few of the bands. There were also German metal bands, Korean funk, and what Zack suspected was Swiss polka music—though John wouldn’t own up to it.

“Eclectic,” Zack said. “I mostly listen to pop.”

“I had you pegged as an old-school rock sort of guy. You know, Aerosmith, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, that sort of thing.”