REMI
As soon as the lights dim and the play begins, all the anxiety and tension that had been pressing on me for the past few hours seem to slip quietly to the edges of my mind.
I find myself unexpectedly, completely pulled into the story,
and when the lights come up for the interval two hours later, I feel almost disoriented.
I’d been worried it would feel too long, that I’d start checking the time halfway through, but the first half flew by. I was so captivated, I didn’t even notice.
I turn to Sebastian, still caught in that quiet spell the performance has cast, and find him already watching me.
His eyes are bright, and there’s a soft, eager smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“So?” he asks. “What do you think, Remi?”
Judging by his expression, I’m pretty sure he already knows the answer.
“Seb… you were right. It’s, It’s incredible.
Brutal, but moving. It punches you in the gut and somehow still leaves you with hope.
I didn’t know what to expect, honestly, but I’m blown away.
And the actors, God, they’re phenomenal.
I haven’t read the book, so I can’t say how well it matches, but they feel perfect in their roles.
And the music… that string quartet? It fits the story in a way I didn’t think possible.
Honestly, Seb, I had my doubts, but I’m really glad you insisted. ”
His whole face lights up, and that shy half-smile turns into a full one, the kind that makes his cheek dimple irresistible .
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I reach out and lightly trace that mischievous little dent with my finger.
And then I freeze.
What the hell did I just do?
I snatch my hand back like I’ve touched something hot, suddenly mortified, while Sebastian blinks at me, confused, but not angry. He touches his cheek, still smiling, a little dazed.
“Sorry, God, I’m sorry, Seb,” I blurt, stumbling over the words. “It’s just… it’s too cute, I couldn’t help myself. I hope that wasn’t completely out of line…”
He shrugs and waves a hand, like it’s nothing.
“Don’t worry, Remi. You’re not the first. It’s rare these days, but when I was little, people were obsessed with it, couldn’t keep their hands off me. Drove me crazy. I actually bit one of my mum’s friends once because she wouldn’t stop poking at it.”
He laughs, raising his eyebrows.
“My mum was furious, but hey, the woman got the message. Now it’s something only my friends are allowed to do. And you are one, so you’re good. Relax.”
“All right, all right,” I say, raising my hands in surrender.
“Still, I won’t do it again. Promise.”
I want to ask him how he’s feeling, again, even though he looks great: bright-eyed, full of energy. But before I get the chance, he keeps talking, his tone shifting into something more thoughtful.
“All jokes aside, I’m really glad you’re enjoying it.
It’s heavy stuff, not easy to adapt for the stage, but I think the director did a fantastic job. He worked closely with the author, and you can really tell…”
He launches into this passionate explanation about the book and the production, and honestly, I could listen to him for hours.
He’s articulate, clever, and there’s something magnetic about the way he talks when he’s excited. His eyes light up, his cheeks are slightly flushed, he’s completely alive in that moment, and it’s impossible not to be swept along by his enthusiasm.
This story clearly means a lot to him. I can feel it.
And oddly enough, it’s struck something deep in me too, though probably for different reasons.
Before I can say anything more, the theatre goes dark again, cutting the moment short. I lean in quickly and whisper, “You okay?”
He tilts toward me, his breath warm against my ear.
“I’m fine, promise,” he murmurs.
Just that, his voice so close, the soft scent of vanilla still clinging to him, is enough to send a shiver down my spine. And then, without warning, that familiar electric pulse hits low in my stomach.
I shift in my seat, sitting up straighter, every muscle suddenly tense, desperately trying to focus on anything except the heat pooling exactly where it shouldn’t be.
Oh God.
I think I might be in real trouble.