Crescendo

Chapter Six (Nevan)

I sit on my bed, the soft glow filtering through the blinds, my guitar sitting nearby, untouched for once. I'm staring at my phone, the last text from Ruelle still glowing on the screen. She just agreed to dinner, and something about that one simple message makes my heart pound a little harder than usual.

Hey, Goddess. Was thinking about our next date. Are you free for dinner this weekend?

I hit send before I can overthink it, wondering how she'll respond. There's a weird kind of nervousness I'm not used to, like everything about her makes me want to get this right. There's no room for messing up when it's Ruelle.

My phone buzzes almost immediately, and my chest relaxes when I see her reply.

That sounds great! Where are we going?

I grin, leaning back against the headboard.

There's this place by the riverfront. Great food, live music. You'll love it.

She replies quickly again.

I love live music. Let's do it.

I'm about to respond when something tugs at me, the urge to hear her voice. The way she sounded when we said goodnight—calm, a little playful, and completely captivating. I hit the call button before I can talk myself out of it.

The phone rings twice before she picks up.

"Hey," her voice answers, warm and with that familiar hint of teasing.

"Hey," I reply, leaning back into my bed. There's something about hearing her that eases the nerves I didn't even realize I had. "So, Saturday at seven? I'll pick you up."

"Seven's perfect," she says, and I can hear the soft smile in her voice. "Do I need to dress up for this, or can I get away with my usual?"

"You could wear anything, and you'd still be the best-looking person there," I say without thinking. It sounds awkward, even to me, but I can't help it.

Ruelle laughs, and it's this quiet, warm sound that makes my heart skip. "Wow, smooth, Rockstar. Are you practicing your dinner conversation?"

"Nah, I don't need practice," I joke, but I'm only half-teasing. The truth is, I've thought about this a lot more than I'd admit. "But you don't have to dress up too much. Just something you're comfortable in."

"Got it," she replies, and I can practically hear her considering what to wear. "You're really putting in the effort, huh?"

"Would you expect anything less?" I ask, though there's a genuine undertone there. I want this to be special for her, more than anything I've ever been on.

"No, I wouldn't," she says softly, her voice almost shy. "I guess I just wasn't expecting this, you know?"

I shift the weight of her words settling in. "It's fast, but it doesn't feel rushed, does it?"

"No," she admits after a pause, and I can hear her smile return. "It doesn't. It feels right."

That's all I need to hear. "Good. I'm glad."

We talk for a little longer, the conversation light and easy. By the time we hang up, there's this comfortable warmth between us. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

*****

Saturday comes, and when I pull up in front of Ruelle's apartment, I spot her stepping outside, the late evening light casting a soft glow over her. She's wearing this light blue dress that falls just above her knees, simple but elegant, and her hair is loose in waves that catches the breeze. She looks effortless, like she didn't try too hard, but it's perfect.