make them feel better, but this wasn’t one of those situations. I believed Remington would make it. If someone who loved music as much as he did and just wanted to take care of their family couldn’t make it, the world was fucked. I refused to believe that.
“Yeah?” he asked with hope in his eyes.
“Yeah. Did you play in school? In the band or anything?”
He shook his head. “We were homeschooled, so I didn’t get to do stuff like that.” He sounded lonely.
I couldn’t believe all the things he told me. I’d always thought I was the type of person who didn’t care what other people thought, but talking with him, I realized I did. That I wasn’t unapologetically me, I just allowed myself to change who I was and fit in with others around me.
I wanted to be more like him. I was…fuck, I was strangely in awe of the guy.
I didn’t want to tell him anything about myself because it suddenly felt fake, petty, insignificant. I’d never loved anything or had to fight for anything, especially for something like having food or paying bills. It wasn’t that I’d never seen it. People of all classes lived in Havenwood, but it was different hearing Remington talk about it.
“So…you come from money,” he said eventually.
“Is it that obvious?” But of course it was. I’d never felt weird about it until that moment, like why did I have so much and he didn’t? I didn’t want to be Lawson Grant to him, the kid who grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth.
“Does that surprise you?” Remington asked, and I chuckled.
“I guess not. I just…want to be me.”
“That is you.” His brows pulled together. “Doesn’t have to be all of you, but it is you. There’s no changing that.”
“No, I guess not.”
We kept going, the destination inconsequential. At one point, Remington tripped on a raised edge of sidewalk. My hand shot out to steady him, the warmth of his body penetrating through his hoodie.
“Thanks,” he said shyly. “I’m a bit of a mess.”
I didn’t think he was a mess at all. He was fascinating.
“Why do you want to? Change it, I mean?” he asked when we started moving again.
We made our way to a park and sat on a bench. It was getting colder, but I didn’t want to leave, didn’t want the night to end. “I don’t know. It feels like everything is planned out for me. And that’s not bad, as such. I know I’m lucky. My parents are good people, and my siblings are the best. I have a good life, so…I don’t know? It’s not that I want to change it; I just wish I knew what I wanted.” As if I had a choice in the matter.
“You’ll figure it out,” Remington replied.
“How do you know?” The question tumbled from my mouth without any thought from me, and it was…fuck, it was embarrassing. “That was dumb.”
“No, it wasn’t. And I guess I don’t know.” He laughed. “Maybe I’m supposed to have something better to say there. Like, oh, you’ll figure it out because…fuck, whatever. I don’t know, but the truth is, I hope you do. You can’t know I’ll make it as a musician, yet you said it for the same reason I said what I did.”
It was the best thing he could have said, because it was honest. Remington didn’t pretend to have all the answers.
We looked at each other, and I got this fluttery feeling in my belly. We’d been talking for hours, and it probably wasn’t super safe to be out, and it was cold as shit, but I didn’t care. There was a path behind us with lights along the sides, and they made it so we could see each other.
A puff of air left Remington’s mouth, his warm breath misting in the cool air. I watched his lips as he licked them, and that fluttery feeling was back, even more potent than it had been a moment ago.
Want.
Before I could dissect it, I was leaning in and he wasn’t backing away. What the fuck am I doing? ran through my head, but I ignored it because I really wanted to keep going. And then our lips were touching, and it felt like this electric current zipped through me. His tongue slipped inside my mouth, and I let it, wanted it. We kissed and groaned and ate each other’s sounds. He tasted good, like coffee, music, and passion, and it felt good,