Instantly, I find my stomach pooling with regret, the bitter acidic feeling making me ache on the inside. Lately, this care for Finn’s feelings seems to have crept up on me. Before he pulled me into this storm he built up, I wouldn’t have given two shits about how I was affecting him. Now, my mind cannot help but replay the way his voice breaks on the word “hate” and how his face twists as the words struggle to come out. I replay it over and over in my mind until guilt trips my stomach and pulls.
I tug at the ends of my hair, just like he does. “No, I don’t hate you, Finn.”
His shoulders relax as he lets out a breath and I wonder why the hell this means so much to him. I refrain from asking, though. I think I’m too afraid to know the answer.
He nods to himself like he’s agreeing with his own thoughts. He rests his hands on his lap, clenching and unclenching.
“I think I need to just stay parked for a second, yeah?”
“Okay.” I watch him squeeze his eyes shut every couple of seconds. “The thoughts giving you trouble?”
He nods solemnly. “Just a little bit.”
“You need me to drive?”
“I’ll be fine,” he says with a shake of his head. “Just need a minute.”
I think about everything that Finn’s been doing for me since this whole arrangement began. Finn has made such an effort to appear as the perfect boyfriend, even when no one else is around. He sees me in a way I never thought anyone would. He treats me with respect and supports my dreams. When he found out what was in the notebook, he never laughed like my sister did; never cringed like my mom. He just nodded and accepted it like it was a completely valid career change. Maybe, just maybe, I can do the same. Push everything aside and just be there for him the way a girlfriend would.
I reach over and slide my nails along his scalp at the base of his neck. The sound he makes is obscene, like a man starved. His groan is low and vibrates through my fingers and up my arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. His head falls forward, his eyes closed, and he almost looks as if he’s in pain.
“Holy shit.” He groans again as my nails trace a path up his scalp to the crown of his head before drifting back down. He keeps his hair short at the back and on the sides so it’s easy for me to keep my touches light and unobstructed.
“Is the distraction working?” I ask, gravel in my throat.
“If by distraction you mean making my thoughts drift to other things, then yeah, it’s working.”
Drifting to what, I don’t ask, but can take a good guess. My mind races but no matter what kind of dread I manage to build up, excitement seems to surround it no matter what.
I maintain a steady pace—up to where his hair thickens, down to where his neck blends with his shoulders. His head moves with my movements, making sure that my fingers have no trouble reaching his skin. A ghost of a smile stretches across his face and I can feel the tension in my lips as they mirror it. The feel of it is like ice spreading down my spine. The joy, no—the contentment—that I feel as I watch all of his anxiety just melts away. It’s new. It’s scary. And it’s just not happening.
I snatch my hand away and tuck it in between my thighs. I keep my gaze locked onto the pinks, reds, and yellows that illuminate the inside of the car with the setting sun.
Finn clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck, like he’s trying to rid himself of any feel of me. “Thank you,” he says on a cough. “I feel better.”
I nod in acknowledgment, not trusting myself to open my mouth and let words tumble out haphazardly.
Finn puts the car back in drive and it’s only then that I realize that cars have been forced to pull out and overtake since he literally stopped in the middle of the road. Oops.
When we make it to the Locke and Key, the only bar in the whole of Eaglewood, Finn and I are pretty much choking on the awkwardness. No one says a word. I don’t even point out that Finn has submitted to three compulsions during the five minutes it takes to drive the rest of the way.
Despite that, Finn still opens the door and holds out a hand for me as I get out of the car. He opens the door to the bar and waits for me to walk in and I almost jump when a large hand rests on the curve of my lower back, but I steel my spine and try my best to act as if it’s a normal thing between us.
We find our friends at the back of the bar. The music thumps against my chest as I wave at the group. Bash meets me first, lifting me up as he wraps me in a bear hug. He leaves a kiss on my cheek before putting me down and looking over my shoulder at Finn.
“You look like you’re ready to punch me,” he laughs as he sees something on Finn’s face.
“Just keep the kisses on the cheek, Finch.”
Something about the possessiveness sends fire rushing to my stomach.
“You know I will.” Bash lets me go and moves around me to hug Finn. I hear the claps they leave on each other’s backs and the laughs that reach me despite the loud music and even louder chatter.
“Hey, Lee,” Jamie, our friend and lovable barista at this town’s café winks at me from the booth. “I hear we’re shacking up with a certain Southwick brother.”
“Ew, I would never.”
I take a seat beside Sam, the third and oldest Finch brother. He nudges my shoulder in greeting and I nudge him back with mine.
