“Oh my god, you listen to this crap?” Becky scoffed, immediately turning off the music and casting a look of disgust toward Derick. “Only hillbillies listen to this tacky melody. We’re supposed to be trendy. This is far from it. Ever thought about rock? Or at least pop?”
Derick chuckled. “Penny picked everything in there,” he replied, his voice laced with sarcasm. “She’s a country girl, anyway. Doubt she’d know what’s trendy.”
My nails dug into my palms. Yes, I was a country girl, raised in the simplicity of nature, without a grasp on city folks’ lifestyles. I remembered how people had laughed at me during our university dinner event when I used a spoon to eat my salad. Derick had taken it from me quietly, replaced it with a fork, and told me not to care what people thought. He’d said that the way a person eats has nothing to do with character. That night, I’d learned just how cruel the world could be. But I hadn’t cared back then, because I believed I could be myself around him.