luck for the night - rl.

32. a nice, normal night.

The arrival of our food was a welcome change from the freezing cold outside. As we went inside, though, I kept wearing Remington's hoodie. It was too comfortable to take off, his scent surrounding me.

Remington grabbed a black leather wallet from his nightstand and walked to the door, right after we'd gone inside cuz we heard knocking on the door. I sat down on one of the grey chairs next to the window and leaned back. A sigh left my lips, and I closed my eyes.

No matter how nice and comforting it was to be hanging out with Remington again, there was still a feeling gnawing, somewhere deep inside. Guilt towards Phoebe, fear of being caught with him. But then there also was this light feeling, this feeling I only felt when I was together with the dark-haired, tattooed man. It all was fucking confusing. 

I wanted to tell Phoebe everything, and now Remington told me I could, but it still was a terrifying thought. I knew what she was going to say, and worse, I knew she was going to be right. Because no matter how much I was enjoying this time away, no matter what I felt as I opened my eyes and I saw Remington walk toward me, a smile appearing as our eyes met, and no matter what I felt at night, as his bare skin brushed mine, it was interfering with work.

It had been since day one. And it interferes with work meant it was interfering with my dreams.

"Hey," Remington said, sitting down across from me, and putting the white bag of food on the little table in between us. "You okay?"

I attempted to smile. "Yeah, just hungry," and with that, I opened up the bag and looked at the various containers until I found my burrito bowl.

"Sure?" Remington pressed as he grabbed his own food and put the now empty bag on the floor.

I wanted to tell him, but yesterday's confession still lay hot on my insides. I just wanted to have a nice, normal night tonight.

"Yeah, I am." I looked down at my food, shame taking over.

This all would have been so much easier if I had never met him, if I had never lied to Phoebe. If I did not have this warm feeling in my chest every time I looked at this man. If I had been a better friend, a better business owner...

I sighed, not able to keep all these thoughts, all of these feelings at bay. With exhaustion still pulling at my bones, I knew if the tears would come, I would not be able to stop them. So I kept my focus on the cardboard bowl on my lap, stabbing a piece of avocado with my plastic fork. I was not hungry at all, suddenly, but I forced myself to move the fork to my mouth, chewing slowly.

"By the way," Remington tossed his wallet onto the bed, "I went to the ATM earlier today, to get you some cash, for the train tickets and such."

I looked up, pulling the corners of my mouth back into a sad excuse for a smile. "Thanks," I muttered, before putting some more food into my mouth.

"Rylin." The way he said my name made me look up, worry now clearly taking over his voice. It reminded me too much of the way Phoebe had said it, mere hours ago, how Remington had said it after my clumsy way of entering his room earlier. I hated the glisten in his eyes, but I knew it was justified.

Without waiting for any permission, he grabbed the bowl and fork from my hands, putting them on the table between us. His hands reached back to me, grabbing mine in a soft, but firm grip. "You are obviously not okay," he stated, my heart falling to the floor. How did I tell him it was all because of this immense confusion inside of me, every emotion I had ever felt coming out in a giant storm of nightmares?

"I'm not," I said, eyes on the floor, too scared to look up at him. But those words made an immense weight fall off my shoulders and my eyelids got wet. "Sorry," I sniffled, now glancing heavenward in an attempt to force the tears back inside. "I ruined yesterday night by crying, and now I'm doing it again."