The Authority Song – Jimmy Eat World

It's how the hustle goes, see what the jukebox knows.
Put my last quarter on, I play "Authority Song".
Honesty or mystery?
Tell me I'm not scared anymore.
I got no secret purpose, I don't seem obvious do I?
I don't seem obvious do I?
The DJ never has it, J A M C Automatic.
If those were Roy's headphones, you bet he'd play "What Goes On".
Honesty or mystery?
Tell me I'm not scared anymore.
I got no secret purpose, I don't seem obvious do I?
I don't seem obvious do I?
Oh I'm here, that means something doesn't it?
Oh won't you dance with me a little bit?
Oh you don't notice, I guess the music's too loud.
It's how the hustle goes, see what the jukebox knows.
Put my last quarter on, I play "Authority Song".
Honesty or mystery?
Tell me I'm not scared anymore.
Say anything you want already I'm not scared anymore.
Honesty or mystery?
Want something else?
Just tell me I'm not scared anymore.
I got no secret purpose, I don't seem obvious do I?
I don't seem obvious do I?

George didn't often see Rube in a bar. He was the late night, fireside reader with a snifter of brandy kind of guy. But there he was, sitting in a booth, looking like the most contemplative fucker under the dim lighting. He had his "serious shit" face on, and she'd bet her mustang she knew what his problem was. He spotted her, and the expression he wore confirmed her theory. He was thinking about her. Well, shit, if he was going to be morose about it.

As close to the chest as he played his cards, she'd been able to see the queen of hearts with her face on it so to speak. Freaked her the fuck out when she first noticed the long looks, the flushed ears and the unnecessary touches were more than just platonic. I mean it was Rube! And it was her! If she was honest with herself, she believed whole-heartedly that he was miles out of her league—despite the fact that she had undeniably fallen for the asshole.

So, after he hadn't come to his senses, just to screw herself over, she'd called him on it at breakfast, when they were the only two left sitting in the green booths. So how long have you been wanting to fuck me? She had put it as crudely and as cruelly as possible. A second later, with his shredded expression and ensuing departure, he'd given an answer she'd previously refused to hope for.

She slid into the seat across from him. His mouth tightened around the lip of his glass, and he stared drill holes into the wall.

"Rube." She'd never said his name quite like that before—with a softness that she'd always scraped away before the word left her mouth. He exhaled and finally looked at her. "I asked you the wrong question. I'm sorry. Here's the right one. How long have you been in love with me?"

The ice cubes in his drink clinked against the glass as he took a sip of amber liquor, "You sure you're ready to ask that question, Peanut?"

"Hold on," she got up and went to the bar, returning a minute later with three shots of tequila. They were gone a moment later. "Now I'm sure."

A sad smile and a sip of scotch, "Years."

"Well, shit. Me too!" She scowled, "Why didn't you say something? Or jump me or something?"

He stared at her, "I don't think I'm understanding you."

"Jesus, do I have to say it?" She couldn't look him in the eyes, "I've been in love with you for-fucking-ever. We're both fucking morons." Silence dominated the table as Rube processed and George avoided. Someone fiddling with the jukebox let out a triumphant crow, and some catchy hip-hop song came through the speakers.

George finally looked across the table and met Rube's opened eyes before standing up, "Come here."

A smile was creeping up on him, "Why?"

"I'm going to teach you to dance."

"I already know how to dance."

She smirked, "Not like this you don't."