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“Honestly, I’m exhausted and starving. I’m a pretty lame date, I guess. It’s been a long day.”
He patted the counter. “Oh, thank God.” She lowered her brow, waiting for an explanation. “I worked all morning, and honestly, I’m pretty tired, too. If you said you wanted to go out, I was going to put on my dancing shoes and take you out, but my God, I was going to hate it.” He laughed, a hand on his stomach. She couldn’t get over how much his laugh warmed her.
“Well, that’s incredibly nice of you, but I won’t subject either of us to such torture.”
“I appreciate it,” he told her, leaning over the counter into a bow.
“So…should I go, then?”
“Up to you,” he said simply. “I’m in no way ready to entertain, but if you’re okay with a low-key night in, you’re welcome to stay.”
She lit up at his words. “I would love to stay.”
“Say no more,” he told her, pulling out his cell phone. “What are you craving? Pizza, okay? We’ll order in and watch terrible TV and probably crash way too early. I told you I’m pretty lame tonight.”
“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” she asked.
“Shhh,” he silenced her, already on the phone and ordering a pizza. She turned away from him, walking back toward the living room to settle onto the couch with a growing smile on her face.
Once the pizza had been ordered, he sank down beside her, seeming completely at ease. How she longed to feel the same, but she couldn’t ignore the electricity pulsing through her body. She tried to think of Asher and how she must only feel this way because Finn was there for her when she needed him—twice now, in fact—but thinking of Asher only made her feel sick, so she let her mind wander.
“So…” Finn said, breaking up the silence. He set his beer on the coffee table and propped his feet up, placing his hands behind his head. “How are you liking New York so far?”
“Much better than my first day,” she said. “That’s for sure.”
“But not better than your second, right?” he joked.
She smirked. “I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other, honestly.”
“It’s a big city,” he reminded her. “Unless you want to find someone, you usually don’t.”
She paused. “You didn’t want to find me?” she asked, surprising herself with the question.
He stared at her, his face serious. He seemed to be contemplating what to say next, his gaze darting back and forth between her eyes. He opened his mouth but shut it again. Suddenly, before she realized what was happening, he leaned down, his knuckle under her chin as he lifted her mouth to his. His stubble scraped her skin, his lips warm against hers as she sank into the kiss. She let out a breath through her nose, wrapping her arms around his neck—careful not to spill the beer in her hand.
He cradled her face with both hands, his touch delicate but commanding. When they broke apart, both gasping for air, it was too soon. She stared at him with wide eyes, her forefinger on her lips as she waited for him to make the next move.
“Does that answer your question?” he asked, picking up the beer again and grabbing the remote.
“Mhm,” she said, still trying to collect her racing thoughts. He’d answered her question and given her so many more.
Chapter Eight
The next morning, Blythe woke up next to Finn in his bed. His arm was pinned underneath her and her head rested comfortably on his chest. They hadn’t slept together—not that she hadn’t wanted to—but she had managed to get one more mind-blowing kiss after the pizza just before they’d both crashed. They were exhausted, after all. It was nice how comfortable they were with each other, she thought. It was nice that despite her anxiety, which had settled some, her mind could find a bit of solace in his arms and quiet enough for her to fall asleep and forget, just for the moment, about the heartbreak she’d experienced a few hours before.
When she sat up, he stirred, rubbing a hand over his face as his eyes focused on her. He seemed confused at first, but a smile quickly found its way to his lips.
“Hey,” he whispered, his voice coated in sleep.
“Hey,” she said, leaning over onto one arm.
“How’d you sleep?”
“Like a baby,” she answered honestly.
“I’m glad,” he told her. They didn’t touch, and he didn’t move in for a kiss, but the look in his eyes told her their intimate—albeit small—moments from the night before hadn’t been forgotten. He looked over at his phone, picking it up from the nightstand littered with receipts and water bottles and letting out a yawn. “I have to be at work soon.”
“Right,” she said, staring around the room for her own phone. Where had she left it?
