9. Remi
nine
Remi
Saturday came faster than I wanted it to and slower than I could stand.
I spent most of the afternoon in my room trying on different versions of myself.
The black dress went on first because that’s what I’d shown him, but standing in front of my mirror it felt too obvious.
Like I was trying too hard to be the girl in the photo instead of just being her. I pulled it off and threw it on my bed.
The red one came next. Tighter, shorter, the kind of thing that would make Lucy proud. I turned sideways and looked at myself and decided it was too much. Not for him, for me. I wasn’t trying to prove anything.
I ended up in a dark green slip dress that hit mid-thigh and had thin straps that showed off my shoulders and collarbones. Simple. Sexy without screaming it. I paired it with black boots that added three inches and made my legs look longer than they actually were.
My makeup took another hour because I kept redoing my eyeliner until it was sharp enough to cut someone. Red lipstick. Hair down and loose, the kind of messy that takes effort to look effortless. I stepped back and looked at myself in the mirror and felt something close to satisfied.
My phone buzzed on my desk.
leaving now. be there in twenty.
I read it twice and felt my stomach flip in a way that annoyed me because I wasn’t supposed to be this affected by a guy, I’d been texting for a week and a half. But here I was, checking my reflection one more time and adjusting my dress like it mattered.
Twenty minutes later I heard a car pull up outside. I grabbed my bag, checked my lipstick one last time, and headed downstairs before anyone could ask me where I was going or who I was going with.
I opened the front door and there he was.
Ryan stood on the porch in a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dark jeans, and boots that looked like they’d seen some use.
His hair was pushed back and he had the kind of face that photographs didn’t do justice to because they couldn’t capture the way he looked at you like he was already three steps ahead.
“Hi,” I said, and it came out steadier than I felt.
“Hi.” His eyes moved over me slowly, taking in the dress and the boots and everything in between. “You look incredible.”
“Thanks. You clean up okay.”
He smiled at that, the kind of smile that suggested he knew exactly what I was doing and found it entertaining. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
He stepped aside and gestured toward his car parked at the curb.
I walked past him and caught the scent of his cologne, something clean and woodsy that made me want to lean closer.
He opened the passenger door for me and waited until I was inside before closing it and walking around to the driver’s side.
The restaurant was twenty minutes away in a part of town I didn’t go to often because everything there cost more than I wanted to spend. He pulled into the parking lot of a place with floor-to-ceiling windows and soft lighting that made everyone inside look like they belonged in a magazine.
“This is where you’re taking me?” I asked as he turned off the engine.
“Problem?”
“No. Just didn’t expect construction to pay this well.”
He laughed and got out of the car. I reached for my door handle but he was already there, opening it for me and offering his hand. I took it and let him pull me up, and when I was standing in front of him he didn’t let go right away.
“I like nice things,” he said, looking down at me. “And I wanted to take you somewhere nice.”
“Mission accomplished.”
Inside, the hostess greeted him by name and led us to a table near the back that was tucked into a corner with enough privacy that it felt like we were the only people there. He pulled out my chair and waited for me to sit before taking his own seat across from me.
The menu was the kind that didn’t list prices, which meant everything was expensive. I scanned it and tried not to think about how much this was going to cost him.
“Order whatever you want,” he said, like he could read my mind.
“That’s dangerous advice.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
The waiter came by and Ryan ordered a bottle of wine without asking me first, which should have annoyed me but didn’t because he ordered something I actually liked. When the waiter left he leaned back in his chair and looked at me with that same intensity I’d noticed outside.
“So,” he said. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you’re a gamer. I know you have a smart mouth. I know you look good in green.”
“That’s three things.”
“And I want more.”
I picked up my water glass and took a sip, buying myself time. “What do you want to know?”
“Why gaming?”
“Why construction?”
“I asked first.”
“Fine.” I set my glass down. “I like games because they’re the only place where the rules make sense. You know what you’re supposed to do, you know how to win, and if you lose it’s because you made a mistake, not because life decided to screw you over for no reason.”
He watched me while I talked, his eyes never leaving my face. “That’s a good answer.”
“Your turn.”
“Construction pays well and I’m good with my hands.” He paused, watching my reaction. “But that’s not why I do it.”
“So why do you?”
“Because I like knowing exactly what I’m capable of without guessing or wondering. I build something and it either stands or it doesn’t.” He reached for his wine glass. “Kind of like you and your games.”
“Did you just compare yourself to me?”
“I’m comparing how we both need to know we’re good at what we do.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?” He smiled, and there was something in it that made me want to keep talking to him. “You’re telling me you don’t get off on being the best player in your lobbies?”
“I don’t get off on anything.”
“Well, that’s a lie.”
I took a long sip of wine. “You’re cocky.”
“Confident,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”
“Yeah. Cocky guys talk about themselves. Confident guys let you figure it out.” He stared at me with an eyebrow raised before continuing. “I like building things because when you’re done you can see what you made. It’s tangible, real and most things in life aren’t like that.”
“Better.”
We ordered food and the conversation kept going, moving from one topic to another without any of the awkward pauses that usually happened on first dates.
He asked about school and I told him I was taking a gap year to figure out what I actually wanted to do.
He told me about a project he was working on which was renovating an old house downtown.
“You’re good at this,” I said after the waiter cleared our plates.
“At what?”
“Conversation. Most guys I meet either talk about themselves the entire time or sit there like they’re waiting for me to entertain them.”
“Maybe you’ve been meeting the wrong guys.”
“Maybe.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and the space between us felt smaller. “Can I ask you something?”
“Depends on the question.”
“Why’d you say yes to dinner?”
“Because you asked.”
“That’s not an answer, it’s a cop-out.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting right now.”
He stared at me for a moment, then nodded. “Fair enough.”
We left the restaurant around nine and walked back to his car. The air was cooler now and I wrapped my arms around myself without thinking. He noticed immediately and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over my shoulders before I could protest.
“Thank you,” I said, pulling it tighter around me.
“You cold?”
“A little.”
He opened my door again and I slid into the passenger seat. When he got in on his side he didn’t start the car right away. Instead he turned to look at me, his hand resting on the gear shift.
“I don’t want to take you home yet,” he said.
My heart kicked against my ribs. “Where do you want to take me?”
“My place, if that’s okay.”
I looked at him while so many thoughts were running through my head. This was the moment where I could say no and ask him to drive me home, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to see where this went.
“That’s okay with me,” I said, and he started the car.
His apartment was fifteen minutes away in a building that looked newer than I expected.
He led me upstairs to the third floor and unlocked the door to a space that was clean and minimal and I could tell he actually lived here instead of just existing in it.
Dark furniture, a couch that looked comfortable, and a kitchen that was small but functional.
“You want something to drink?” he asked, tossing his keys on the counter.
“Water’s fine.”
He grabbed two bottles from the fridge and handed me one. I took it and looked around, taking in the details. No photos on the walls, no personal touches that would tell me anything about who he was outside of this moment besides the fact that he has a roommate.
“Your roommate home?” I asked.
“He’s out. Won’t be back until late.”
“Well that’s convenient.”
“I’m going to call it luck.”
I smiled and took a sip of water. He moved closer, closing the distance between us until I had to tilt my head back to look at him. His hand came up to my face, fingers brushing along my jaw, and I felt my pulse jump.
“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he said quietly.
“About what?”
“Kissing you.”
“Then do it.”
His mouth was on mine before I could process it, so demanding that it made my knees weak.
I dropped the water bottle on the counter and reached for him, my hands finding his chest and then his shoulders and then his hair.
He kissed me like he’d been waiting a life time for this and now that we’re past dinner the gates flung open.
His hand moved to my throat, fingers wrapping around it gently at first and then with more pressure. Not enough to hurt but enough to make me gasp against his mouth and feel it everywhere.
“You like that?” he murmured against my lips.
“Yes.”