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Finn
All I wantis to be home. I dread nights out like this, but Drew reminded me I owed him one and he requested payment tonight. The more “celebrities” hanging out at his hotel, the more media coverage and word of mouth. Why he needs me, I don’t know. There are a dozen people more famous than me at his upscale bar to celebrate Ryan Seacrest’s birthday. Flashbulbs have been blinking for the past hour, the food and drink flowing. But ten more minutes and I’m out of here. Drew won’t notice, given he’s got a woman looking at him like she wants to do a lot more than just sit on his lap.
My only saving grace is my friend, Hannah. She’s been attached to my hip while we catch up on life. She works with my cousin in fashion design and does some modeling on the side. Her brother and I played high school ball together so I’ve known her forever. Am I a little put-off by her sudden flirting? Yeah, but I can handle it and not flirt back.
“So, do you have plans for New Year’s Eve?” Hannah asks, escalating her interest by putting her hand on my thigh. “If not, I’d love to ring in the new year with you.”
I swivel in my barstool so her hand falls away. “I do have plans.” They aren’t confirmed, but I plan to be with Chloe in Big Sur through the first of the year.
“Oh?” Disappointment surrounds the single syllable. “With anyone I know?”
“No,” I say, taking a sip of my drink. Even if she did know Chloe, it’s not anyone’s business but mine, and I’d like to protect my relationship with her for as long as possible.
Hannah narrows her eyes at me. “You’re being awfully secretive.”
“Just keeping it private for now.”
“So, it’s someone special.”
“Yes.” Being away from her this past week has only made it more so. I knew I’d miss her, but not like this. Not like my heart forgets a beat every hour of every day we’ve been apart. It’s scares me as much as it excites me.
“Phew.”
I frown in confusion.
“I thought I was losing my touch. I’ve been flirting with you for the past half hour and you’ve given me nothing. I’m relieved to know it’s not me.”
“You were flirting?” I deadpan.
She gives me a push in the upper arm, my left upper arm. A slight sharp pain fires off in my shoulder. I’ve been working out like a fiend and am more sore than normal, but fear creeps into the back of my mind that it’s more than regular soreness. I’m used to a quick recovery, not this lingering ache.
“Shut up,” she scoffs.
“And since when do you flirt with me, anyway?”
“I don’t know. Boredom?”
“Gee thanks.”
“Like your ego needs any stroking. You’re hands down the best-looking and sexiest man in this room, and you couldn’t care less, which just ups your appeal.” She twirls a strand of hair around her finger. “You sure this girl is special enough to pass me up?”
I laugh. “Sorry, Han. I’m positive.” If Chloe were in town I would not be sitting here without her. “There’s a guy three o’clock, though, who can’t take his eyes off you. How about I head home and give him space to make his move?”
She casually inclines her head in his direction. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”
I kiss her cheek. “See you around. Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year. Good luck with your girl.”
“Thanks.” I don’t put a lot of stock in luck, but in this case, I may need it. No matter how hard I work to convince Chloe we should be together, it’s ultimately up to her. Of course, I don’t give up on things I want.
The valet brings my car around and the first thing I do is look around for my phone. I patted my pockets earlier with no luck, but thought I brought it with me. Ah. There it is. On the floor under my seat. I tap the screen and find dozens of notifications.
All of them focused on a couple pictures of me and Hannah, taken inside the hotel right after we said hello. I’m too tired to decipher everything being said, but the few words that do catch my eye tell me the subject is my love life. And that subject is racking up thousands of likes. Bloody hell. Two pictures curated by someone other than my social media manager are collecting way more attention than they should.
I dial Chloe. Has she seen them? I need to explain. I need to hear her voice, that vibrant and melodic timbre I love just as much as the sound of my bat hitting a home run. The call goes to voicemail as I realize belatedly that it’s three hours later back east and she’s probably asleep. “Hey, Chloe, I know it’s late there, but I wanted to say hello anyway. Call me tomorrow before your flight… Miss you,” I tack on because I really fucking miss her and I want her to know it before she hits the friendly skies.
When I get home, the house feels emptier than usual. Too quiet. Too bleak. I love this place, seriously love the solitude it affords me, so I’m not sure what’s up with my sudden glum mood. I stop in the kitchen for a glass of water and find Sylvie left me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the counter. My mood immediately lifts. I marvel at how cognizant she is of my routine. PB&J has been my go-to nightly snack as of late. She probably knows what time I take a dump every day, too.
