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“Okay,” I finally say. I want to know if he’s for real; I want to believe that what I just glimpsed on his face, in his voice, really was sincerity.
“Thank you,” he says, smiling. He glances at the pool table, which is now empty. “Would you like to play a game?”
“Sure,” I nod, and he hands me a cue. “I’m solids,” I declare as he racks the balls.
“And I’m competitive,” he says. “You can break first.”
I flip my hair over my shoulder, lean down and line up my shot. “So am I,” I say, then let fly a satisfyingly solid shot that sends two of my balls spinning into opposite pockets.
Finn’s dark eyebrows shoot up so high, they almost blend in with his black, shaggy hair. “I’m impressed,” he says.
“You should be,” I grin.
After I beat Finn, he challenges me to a rematch, which he wins. By now a crowd has gathered around us, and when Finn sinks his last ball they break into cheers. “Good game,” he says, shaking my hand.
“Good game,” I repeat, trying not to enjoy the feel of his strong, warm hand in mine too much.
“Girl, you’re a shark!” Lucy says, slapping me on the back.
“If I was, I would have gotten him both games,” I say ruefully, but she shakes her head.
“Finn’s pool-playing skills are legendary,” she says as we head to the bar for more drinks. “I think this is the closest game he’s ever won in the whole time I’ve been at the firm.”
I smile, pleased to hear this. “I’m having a good time, Lucy. Thanks for inviting me.”
“Thanks for coming out! I have to say, our happy hours aren’t usually this fun. Or this free,” she says as the bartender shakes his head at her credit card.
“He said to put everything on his tab,” the bartender says, nodding towards Damien.
“So the bosses usually don’t hang out like this?” I ask as we make our way over to a group that’s clustered at the end of the bar.
“No. Not that they’re not friendly,” she adds as we see Luc and Finn about to start arm-wrestling. “But this is kind of a new thing. It’s nice, though.”
“Yeah,” I say distractedly, taking in the sight of Finn with his suit jacket off and shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbow. His arms are thin but toned, the muscles standing out as he attempts to push Luc’s arm down to the bar.
Luc ends up winning, and Finn grins good-naturedly as his brother preens. “Enjoy the win, little brother,” he teases, his eyes sparkling. “It’ll be your last for a while.”
“You wish,” Luc teases back, and I laugh along with everyone else.
The rest of the evening passes quickly, as I jump from group to group, sometimes taking part in the games and conversation and sometimes just watching and listening to the merriment around me. But no matter where I am, I remain aware of where Finn is, too.
He’s lighthearted and generous, drawing people into conversation easily and making sure no one feels left out. As I covertly watch him, my doubts and worries fade away, overshadowed by the fun of Finn’s company.
Damien and Sophia are the first to leave, slipping out of the bar around nine o’ clock. Then Gretchen, yawning, says she has to go home too. “My poor dog’s probably thought I ran away and forgot to feed him,” she says as she swings her purse over her shoulder.
“Oh no!” I cry and she laughs.
“I’m kidding. My husband’s been home with the dog all evening, and maybe this makes me an old boring married woman, but I’m starting to miss them both. See you tomorrow!” she waves.
Gradually, more people either leave or settle into booths for quieter conversations. I’m perched on a bar stool, sipping a glass of water, when Finn sidles up next to me.
“This seat taken?” he asks, tilting his head towards the empty stool on my right.
“Go ahead,” I say, and he sits down with a content sigh.
“What are you drinking? Vodka on the rocks?” he asks.
I laugh. “Hardly. Just water.”
