luck for the night - rl.

15. a strange flavour on my lips.

It was time for me to go to the airport. Time to go home, back to every day being the same.

It was time for Remington to go to the next city, the next adventure and maybe the next girl.

I sat across from him on the bed, as we both packed up our stuff: in a few hours, he would be leaving this room as well. He was concentrating, a line between his brows as he folded his clothing into a big suitcase. "The only thing I hate more than packing is having messy luggage," he had said to me with weak smile, right before we'd started.

I was enjoying this quiet, comfortable, friendly moment together with him: no expectations, no awkwardness. I had never felt this way with someone I just had sex with. I always felt a need to perform. be the best they ever had. Except with Remington. Maybe it was because we were getting to know each other as friends, too, or maybe it was just him. I did not know.

A strand of hair, still wet from the shower, fell in front of his face. An exhale left his mouth as he ran a hand through his hair and looked up, eyes meeting mine.

"What?"

I looked away from his questioning gaze, at the mess around me on the bed. I had to fit all of this in my small backpack. How did this fit yesterday? "I don't want to go," I shrugged.

"I mean," Remington grabbed some more clothes to fold, "you know you can stay longer, right? I for one would enjoy that. You could come along to Germany with us."

Embarrassingly, I did consider it. Going on tour with a band, travelling from city to city, new adventures every day... But I knew I had my responsibilities back home. Clients to satisfy. Money to make. My own dream to fulfil.

"I really need to go back to work. I need the money." I started shoving stuff into my backpack. clothing, socks, underwear, my toiletries. I did not care how it would get home, as long as it did.

"But hey," Remington's voice sounded upbeat, suddenly, "you know we'll be back in the UK soon, right? If you want, we can hang out again."

I could not stop a smile from creeping up my face. Seeing him again soon sounded perfect, definitely if it meant that I did not have to miss another day of work to do so.

But my blood went cold, knowing I would have to lie to Phoebe, again. I knew what she would say if she knew I was spending more time with someone from Remington's 'breed'.

I still tried to sound cool, though, when I said "I'd like that."

"Good," Remington started to organise the next pile of clothing. It was weird to see a man travel with so many outfits: usually, they just threw an extra pair of underwear and a toothbrush in a bag. Or maybe that was just what my ex did.

As Remington took the pair of pink, shiny trousers that he had been wearing yesterday night from the pile, I reached out, snagging them from his fingertips.

I put on my sweetest smile. "These are mine now."

"You're stealing my pants?" He yelped, leaning over to get them back.

"They're hot. And besides, I deserve this after you stole my shirt." I started putting them in my backpack, stuffing them in the front pocket.

"But I gave you my blazer! And my last decent pack of cigarettes!" Remington protested, his hand still trying to reach the garment.

I laughed, pushing his hand away. "That was your own choice!"

"You're right." Remington ceased his attack, a grin appearing on his lips. "You know what? I have a proposal."

I smiled back at him, not being able to mask the feeling of victory on my face. "I'm listening."

"A trade. I give you those pants, you give me something of yours."