luck for the night - rl.

41. something stupid like 'i love you'.

Tension cut through me like a knife as Remington stepped closer to me, face to chest until I looked up at him. His lips curled into a soft smile.

"Sorry," I muttered, laughing nervously, "I was listening to this before you arrived. Maybe not the right song for now." I reached for my phone, but Remington's fingers folding around my hand stopped me.

"You want to know what song I was listening to in the car? On repeat, might I add." He slid his phone out of his pant pocket, unlocked it and then turned the screen to me.

"Somethin' Stupid," I breathlessly read. Nerves exploded in my body now, as the pieces slowly started falling into place. The way he looked at me. The way he had held me when we slept. How his face had turned red after our last, accidental kiss.

But instead of letting this moment bloom, I did the thing I always did when I was nervous and saw no way out. I started rambling. "By Frank Sinatra, though? You're telling me I've been listening to a cover?" I laughed nervously, turning around to gesture towards my speaker. "I got it from a tv show, so I had no idea. Have you ever watched Better Call Saul, though? I gotta tell you, the fucking grip Lalo Salamanca has on me-"

His voice wasn't loud at all, but his words echoed in my ears. "Are you really that oblivious?" Remington's hands wrapped around my waist, a tiny smile appearing on his face. "I'm trying to create a moment, and you are blabbering on about the grip another man has on you."

I froze in a surprised, overwhelmed kind of way, and I could not turn away, could not look away from his face. The face I had grown so fond of was now looking at me with a sheen of adoration on it, somehow. My hands found a place on his chest, and suddenly we were dancing through my living room, swaying to the song I had listened to so many times, dreaming, hoping, wondering. And now, some way, somehow, it seemed to all turn real.

The song grew louder, more dramatic, but we danced calmly, safely, as if this is was the only place we did not have to pretend. Maybe, for me, that was the case. Remington was here, holding me in his arms. And for the first time in a long time, it all felt okay. It felt like it would be okay. I had fucked up on so many parts, but he was still here.

Leaning my head against his chest, his heartbeat and breath rang in one ear, while the song played in the other. He planted his lips on top of my head, arms pulling me in even closer, now wrapped around my back. As if he was hoping, asking, never to let go.

He planted one kiss, gentle, soft. Another one. Until his chest rose, and now, the lyrics spilled from his lips, into my hair, as if confessing.

"I practice every day
To find some clever lines to say
To make the meaning come through
But then I think I'll wait
Until the evening gets late
And I'm alone with you

The time is right, your perfume fills my head
The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue
And then I go and spoil it all
By saying something stupid like 'I love you.'"

"I love you," he quietly sang, as I pulled back to look into his eyes. My chest had never felt this light, this excited, but this comfortable at the same time. I opened my mouth, hoping to repeat the words to him, but then the coldness of the truth entered the middle of my chest. I still did not deserve him. Instead of the three words, a long, pained sigh left my lips. "Is it true?"

"It is true, all of it. Has been for a while." He slightly shrugged. It seemed so easy for him to say, so simple. But it wouldn't be for me. Not with the icy stalk still pressuring my chest. Emotion rose to my eyes, and I hoped he would understand. I hoped he wouldn't make me explain.

"It's okay if you're not ready to say it." He wiped under my eyes, catching a single falling tear. His other hand found its way to my chest, "I know how it feels in here."