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I didn’t believe him. Plus it ruined a secret narrative I’d happily indulged for years. Whenever I was overwhelmed by work or crippling deadlines, I’d silently curse him for having dropped this job in my lap.Boy, you sure knew what you were doing, walking away from this one, didn’t you?I’d say to the Finn who lived in my head, who was a far more convivial individual than the one I’d actually met. And conversely, when the job was going well and some praise or plaudit had come my way, I’d silently ask ifhecould have done it so well. It was a weird relationship to have with someone I didn’t even know, but unlike our real-life encounters, in those conversations I always managed to get the last word.
I looked at him now, his handsome profile illuminated by the lights of the oncoming cars, and knew there was no way I would ever tell him how he’d lived on in my head long after the expiry date for our brief encounter had passed.
I chatted about my job for a while, unconsciously slipping into a speech I’d given several times to groups of university students or at school career days. It freed my thoughts and allowed them to wander. Finn was an enigma; that was where my fascination with him began and ended, or so I tried to convince myself. It was only natural for my curiosity to be piqued by a man who’d oddly never disappeared from my thoughts the way he should have done. For years I’d thought it was because he’d been so downright annoying – and he had been. But I was honest enough to admit now that it might have been something more than that.
Being intrigued by his massive career U-turn didn’t explain the way my eyes kept straying to his hands, which were resting lightly on the steering wheel. Nor how curiously safe I felt with him. Even a dangerous manoeuvre from a taxi, which would have earned a blast on the horn from anyone else, hadn’t riled him. Finn drove with a relaxed, confident competence that I suspected he applied to everything he did. He was probably an excellent kisser. The observation escaped from a deep well of totally inappropriate thoughts and shocked me so much, I completely forgot what I’d been saying and began stammering like an idiot. Desperately hoping that telepathy wasn’t something else he was good at, I hastily turned the questions back his way.
‘My turn now. Why a coffee shop?’
‘Why not?’
I digested that one for a moment or two. ‘It just seems like a million miles away from working in journalism.’
Something flickered in Finn’s eyes for a moment. I caught it briefly in the twin headlights of a lorry, but it was gone before I could properly identify it. ‘Maybe that was the idea,’ he said. And then with a skill I envied, he effortlessly redirected our conversation down a completely different path.
For years I’d imagined Finn was the kind of man who’d like nothing better than to talk about himself. But that clearly wasn’t true. It made me wonder what else about him I’d got wrong.
We wove through the still surprisingly heavy traffic while a playlist from Finn’s phone provided a quiet backdrop to our conversation. His musical tastes were eclectic, ranging from soft rock and country to classic old-school jazz. The picture of him I was trying to compile in my head kept shifting, like smoke caught in a breeze. Finn was a conundrum, and as much as I didn’t want to be, I was intrigued.
When I spotted a signpost up ahead for the park-and-ride exit, my knee-jerk reaction of disappointment surprised me. I wasn’t ready for the night to end yet. But when we sailed straight past the slip road, I sat bolt upright in my seat.
‘You’ve just missed the turn-off.’
Nobody likes a back-seat driver, but Finn responded with a relaxed smile. ‘It occurred to me that you must be feeling hungry,’ he said. ‘I bet you’ve not eaten a thing since that cupcake this afternoon.’
He was absolutely right, I hadn’t, but I immediately denied it. ‘Actually, that’s where you’re wrong. I grabbed something earlier from the hospital cafe,’ I lied.
‘Oh, okay.’ He flicked on his indicator and changed lanes. I glanced up ahead and saw the familiar yellow logo of a well-known burger chain. ‘Well, do you mind if we stop here for a moment so I can grab something, becauseI’mabsolutely starving.’
‘I wouldn’t have figured you for a dirty burger kind of guy.’
Finn pulled into the queue for the drive-in and swivelled in his seat towards me.
‘Why’s that?’
I could feel the flush creeping up from my throat. I’d blushed more in his presence than I’d done with anyone else I’d ever met. It was almost as though I was pheromonally allergic to him.
‘You seem more like a sushi or steak tartare kind of person.’
He chewed over my words for a moment. ‘It’s interesting that you imagine my preferred choice of food is raw. I wonder if that means you think of me as some sort of barbaric caveman.’
‘I don’t think of you at all,’ I said, knowing instantly that neither of us believed that particular lie for a single second.
Fortunately, my awkward interrogation was brought to a halt as a disembodied voice from a crackly speaker asked for our order. Finn hadn’t been kidding about his love of fast food. He ordered everything designed to make his arteries regret his choices in about thirty years’ time.
‘Are you sure you don’t want anything?’ he asked solicitously.
The ‘No, thank you’ was ready and waiting on my lips when the smell of fried onions and greasy burger wafted in through his open window. My stomach growled, and not in a ladylike way but with the ferocity of a rabid dog.
‘Make that two of everything,’ I told the speaker beside his window. I’m surprised the woman taking our order managed to hear me above the sound of Finn’s laughter.
I got the last laugh though – or at least I thought I did – a few minutes later, for while Finn was reaching to take our bags of food, I leant across him to swipe my debit card on the payment screen.
He made a sound of protest, and I looked up, shocked to find his face so close to mine. ‘You did say I should buy dinner,’ I reminded him, which had sounded much sassier when I’d been silently practising it while we waited for our meals. What I’d failed to factor in was that leaning so close to his body would cause a lot of me to brush against him. The hairs on my bare arm stood to attention as they grazed the skin of his. How could I have known how easily I’d be derailed by the warm smell of him, mixed with the lingering aroma of whatever he’d used in the shower that morning?
My body was reacting dramatically to the nearness of him.Hello, it murmured, waking sleepily from what had admittedly been a long, dry spell. I could practically see it lazily stretching as it emerged from its prolonged slumber. There’d be no getting it back to sleep now.
For the sake of my dignity and my pale, cream-coloured top, I was glad when Finn suggested parking up to eat our takeaways. I wasn’t sure what would have mortified me more, spilling dollops of ketchup down myself or dropping them all over his upholstery. Finn struck me as the kind of man who thought a lot of his car.
