by K. Ryan
We inched closer until our chests pressed together and both my hands skimmed down the thin material of his worn T-shirt, curling around his shoulders to draw myself closer to him. It was slow and lazy, like we had the whole rest of the day ahead of us...and we sort of did, too. This was what I needed. Easy. Patience. Time. Restraint. All the things he was already giving me, but I had to make sure he understood.
“Finn,” I exhaled against his lips. “I need to take this slow. I want to tell you why. I really do; I just can’t right now. I’m not…”
The words just wouldn’t come: I’m not what you think I am. I’m not good. I’m not clean.
And in doing this, in asking for patience, I’d also inadvertently promised to tell him, eventually, everything I’d never said out loud before. I’d also inadvertently admitted I wanted him in my life, even if those terms were undefined right now. It was terrifying.
“Okay,” he murmured and his thumb rubbed across my cheek. “I promise I didn’t come over for…” he glanced down between us, “this today. Just being here, talking to you, listening to music with you, that’s enough, Em. It really is. I can do slow. Slow is perfect.”
An easy smile curled my lips. “Thank you.”
He rolled onto his back to put a little more distance between us again and that was okay. He’d clearly sensed that was what I needed right now and the fear of sending him mixed signals was the only thing keeping me from rolling onto my stomach so I could kiss him again. I didn’t want to hold him at arm’s length anymore, but I couldn’t completely wrap myself around him yet either.
“You wanna turn off the music for awhile and watch something on TV?”
He’d already been in my apartment for a few hours and my whole body warmed and fluttered because he obviously didn’t want our time together today to be over yet.
“Have you ever watched Arrested Development?”
He frowned and shook his head.
“What?” I immediately hopped up onto my feet and grabbed the remote. “How is that possible? We need to fix that.”
His laugh followed me all the way to my couch.
. . .
A few hours, pieces of leftover pizza, beers, and episodes of Arrested Development later, Finn glanced at the time on his phone and blew out a deep breath. My eyes immediately flew to the clock over our heads and felt a little disappointment creeping my way. He’d basically spent the entire day over here...it was really amazing how time flew when you were having a good time.
“I should probably get going,” he told me dejectedly, unwinding his arm from around my shoulders. “I don’t want to, but...”
I nodded, not wanting him to leave yet, but our time together today had to end sometime. It wasn’t like I’d exactly planned on him spending the night or anything.
“It is getting late,” I admitted and pushed off the couch to grab the few empty beer bottles on my coffee table.
Finn followed me into the kitchen with the pizza box in his hands. “So...are you working tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’ve got the lunch shift,” I nodded, adding quickly, “but I have Sunday off.”
“Hmm,” he rubbed a hand over his mouth and then shoved that hand into his pocket. I half-expected him to offer up that brewery tour again, but he surprised me when he finally asked, “You wanna come over to my place for the game on Sunday?”
I saw exactly what he was doing here. Not only was he giving me a little breathing room, but he was drawing me out of my comfort zone, too. Getting me out of my apartment. Away from my safety net. One step at a time.
“It’ll just be me and Sling,” he explained right away. “No loud party this time around.”
“Not gonna lie—that was pretty annoying. Especially since you guys literally just moved in.”
Finn grimaced and pushed his floppy brown hair back from his forehead. “Sorry about that. It was all Sling’s fault, I swear. I didn’t want that many people at our place, especially since, like you said, we just moved in, but he doesn’t listen to me. As I’m sure you’ve figured out already.”
“Well, I suppose you’re forgiven.”
“Thanks,” he laughed. “Now I’ll be able to get some sleep tonight.”
“Oh, good.”
He leaned back on his heels, hands still in his pockets, and chewing on the inside of his cheek. “If you want, I can text you tomorrow and give you the details for Sunday.”
I had to bite down on my lip to hide my smile. “You could’ve just asked for my number, Finn. You didn’t have to try to be sneaky about it. You know I’m going to give it to you.”
His eyes squeezed shut as a wince worked its way across his face and he blew out a frustrated breath. At this point, I liked to think I knew him well enough by now to know that his exasperation was directed at himself, not me.
“Okay,” Finn exhaled, but that shy smile still lingered. “I’ll try this again. Emma, I’d really like to have your number. So...can I have it?”
“Sure, why not?”
He cast me a sly, sideways glance as he passed his phone to me so I could type in my digits. “I had a good time today.”
“I did too. I’m looking forward to Sunday.”
“Good,” he grinned. “You have no idea how hard it’s gonna be to wait ‘til Sunday to see you again.”
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe, after my shift tomorrow, I’ll find myself out on my patio—the cat will have to stay inside this time—and maybe I’ll want some company.”
Now, that bright smile reached all the way up to his eyes, crinkling the edges and I had to clasp my hands in front of me to keep them to myself. He gestured with his head towards my front door. As we lingered near the doorway, Finn reached for me, letting his thumb brush across my cheek and then he leaned forward. His lips easily found my mouth like we’d been doing this for years. My hands slid up his chest and finally wrapped around his neck just as both his arms curled around my hips to pull me in. Everything felt hazy as heat pooled from my chest down to my stomach, igniting something I thought had died a long time ago.
Finn backed me up until my hips hit the door. One of his hands flew out to plant onto the door, easing off me just enough to keep me from being smothered completely against my front door. Finally, he pulled away and pressed his forehead into mine.
“Sorry,” he murmured, backing away from me completely with both hands in the air. “I didn’t mean to take it that far. I guess I just couldn’t stop myself.”
I kinda wished he would stop apologizing for kissing me.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I don’t mind.”
Finn blew out a deep breath and he reached for the door. “I should probably go now. If I stay any longer, I’m gonna…”
He swallowed hard, casting me a quick, embarrassed glance over his shoulder. “Have a good night, Em. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow? If not then, Sunday?”
“Yeah,” I laughed softly. As if there was any question about Sunday in the first place. “Night, Finn.”
And as he walked out into the hallway, I knew his earlier assumption about my move to Milwaukee might actually be true. It was crazy how something so humiliating and devastating to my life could eventually lead to something that was the complete opposite of everything I’d suffered. Something positive. Something good.
This was a good change.
This was the best change.
And for the first time in a very long time, I didn’t feel completely owned and conquered by the past that clung to my legs, trailing after me and haunting every move I made.
Now, the present looked pretty good. The hope of a real future, that elusive dream of getting to start over, of getting a second chance...that hope rekindled as I watched Finn wave to me one last time before disappearing inside his apartment.
Now, that hope burned bright.
I glanced down at Oliver, who sat right next to my feet. “What do you think, buddy? Should we go to bed now?”
Meh.
I w
aved him into the hallway and he trailed after me, that little tinkling from the bell on his collar following me all the way into my bedroom.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Well, I thought to myself as I surveyed the spread in front of me, they really have all their bases covered when it comes to tailgate food.
And then I realized that I’d just made a baseball reference, albeit internally, during a football game. Oh well. No one had to know but me.
Now, looking at the contents of Finn and Slinger’s kitchen table, I wished I’d brought more than just a pie from the café. Granted, that was exactly what Finn told me to bring, but still...I felt just as underprepared as I was underdressed.
“Here you go,” Finn’s voice called out to me from over my shoulder and I turned to see him holding out a blue and yellow throwback Rodgers jersey to me. “It’s gonna be huge on you, but it’s better than nothing.”
Apparently, I’d committed the cardinal sin of showing up to watch a Packer game without—gasp!—wearing a Packer jersey. Finn had, naturally, informed me of this egregious error the second I stepped foot in his apartment and set out on rectifying said error immediately.
“Don’t spill anything on it,” Slinger told me from the living room. “He will literally chop your balls off if anything touches it. I’m telling you, Emma.”
Finn cast an irritated glance over his shoulder and then shook his head at me, mouthing, “No.”
As far as I could tell, the only person—sorry, cat—getting their balls chopped off around here was Oliver, but that wasn’t happening until Wednesday. So, with that thought, I slipped the jersey from Finn’s hands, shaking out the light shiver that rushed up my forearms when our fingers brushed, and promptly tugged the jersey over my head. I held my arms out and grimaced at just how oversized the whole thing was—the hem skimmed my knees and the extra material pillowed out around my chest. I might as well have been wearing a tent.
“I didn’t realize you were such a fatty,” I informed Finn and the sly grin that slid up his lips hit me all the way down to my jersey-covered knees.
“I didn’t realize you were so tiny,” he laughed. His hand rested on my shoulder, lingering just long enough to warm the skin underneath his touch and he murmured, “You look good in my jersey.”
Suddenly, he turned me around to face the table again and with one hand lightly pressed into the small of my back, he gestured to the spread. “Grab some food, Em. Seriously. We’ve got enough here to feed a small army. I guess we got a little overzealous at the grocery store. Sling’s eyes are a little bigger than his stomach, I think.”
“Oh, sure,” Slinger shot back from the couch. “Blame it all on me. You were the one freaking out over the food, not me.”
Finn’s head snapped to the side and glared daggers over his shoulder, but Slinger just shrugged it off. When Finn finally turned to face me again, his cheeks were already burning red. So, to save him from himself, I gestured down to the spread.
“All this looks pretty good,” I smiled. “I don’t know how I’m going to decide.”
Some of the color had already retreated and Finn flashed me a warm grin. “Just pile as much onto a plate as you can. You can always come back for more.”
I glanced at the table, which held three large plastic bowls of assorted chips, two smaller plastic deli packages of potato salad, salsa, French onion dip, a slow cooker wafting the mouth-watering aromas of little smokies and meatballs, some cheese and summer sausage slices, crackers...for lack of a better option, I took a little bit of everything to start out with.
“I’m gonna go check on the brats,” Finn told me and his hand brushed the small of my back one more time before taking his leave out onto the patio where the smoky grill sat.
By the time I turned to face the living room with a heaping plate secured between both hands, I found Slinger perched on the couch, leaning towards me with an impish grin. He looked downright giddy and that made me downright anxious.
He patted the spot next to him on the couch. “Come on over here, neighbor. Have a seat. I won’t bite.”
Rolling my eyes up to the ceiling, I shook my head and against my better judgment, dared to take the seat next to Finn’s roommate. Slinger hitched an elbow against the armrest, a movement that gave me a little more space on the couch, and cocked an eyebrow at me.
“So,” he started good-naturedly. “I see you’ll take Finn’s invitation for football festivities, but not mine, hmm? That cuts me deep, Emma. It really does.”
“Sorry,” I shrugged. “You did come on a little strong the first time we met.”
Slinger frowned back at me and tapped his chin in concentration. “Did I? Oh well, what can you do? Besides, Finn saw you first, so you were already off-limits as far as I was concerned.”
My mind flashed to that first day in the parking lot—which was, God, only a week ago—and I smiled, remembering the way Finn ducked into his truck, trying to stay hidden, but watching me just the same.
“You two have been spending a lot of time together these last few days, huh?”
“Yep.”
“And I heard you guys out on your patio last night, too. Finn had his guitar and everything.”
True to my word, I’d immediately texted Finn when I got home from the café the night before and within minutes, he’d plopped himself down in Oliver’s old chair, plucking away on his guitar before I even had a chance to change out of my work clothes.
“Yep.”
That was the best I could do. Weak, right?
Slinger’s eyes flicked to their patio for just a second to check on Finn before he leaned closer to me and confided lowly, “Between me and you, I haven’t seen him show this much interest in a girl in a very, very long time.”
My eyes must’ve widened the size of footballs because Slinger’s grin spread to Joker-esque proportions.
“Don’t act so surprised, Emma,” Slinger gestured with his head towards the patio. “That dude has it bad and he’s known you, what, a week?”
“Something like that, yeah,” I mumbled.
“Trust me, neighbor, this is a good thing, but,” he leaned his head in closer again and his voice dropped to a serious tone, “all I ask is that you be gentle with him. Please. Just be gentle.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but came up empty. I’d never considered the possibility that I might not be the only one with something to lose here.
Slinger smiled sadly with a slight nod. “I heard he told you about Claire. The ex.”
All I could do was nod tightly.
“He never talks about it, so the fact that he even told you...and how much he told you...I don’t think you know how huge that was for him,” he went on, his eyes darting to the patio again just for good measure. “I think he just kinda decided he never wanted to go anywhere near all that again, you know? But, I don’t know, I think you might’ve made him a convert and you guys barely know each other.”
Once again, I had no idea what to say.
“So,” Slinger told me, his voice turning just a notch tighter. “I just want you to know that that guy out there is the best person I know. I’m not just saying that because I wanna see the two of you run off into the sunset together and all that shit—he was the first real friend I ever had and he’s got the biggest heart out of anyone I’ve ever met. When he cares about you, when he’s serious about wanting you in his life, he doesn’t do it half-assed. He’s all in. And he never should’ve had to put up with all the shit Claire put him through at the end. So, if you’re just looking for a good time, if you’re just looking for a casual hook-up or something, Finn’s not your guy. He deserves better than that and he’s gonna want more than that from you, too, so if that’s what you’re here for...I don’t know, I guess you know where the door is.”
I blinked back at him. The fact of the matter was I just didn’t know Slinger well enough to know how to digest all this information. My eyes flicked to their front door and immediately shook my head.
“I don’t know how to do casual,” I admitted finally. “I haven’t known Finn for very long, but I want to get to know him better. That’s the best I can give you right now.”
Slinger studied me for a few long seconds, as if to determine whether or not that was a line of bullshit, and he must’ve seen whatever he needed to see because he nodded. “Good. I was hoping you’d say something like that. Look, I didn’t mean to be a jerk or anything, but I had to put it out there. He’s too busy seeing stars when it comes to you and there was no way he’d ever tell you any of that himself, but I thought you needed to know before you two took things any further.”
“I’m glad he has a friend like you,” I smiled wistfully. “He’s really lucky you’ve got his back like this.”
Must be nice.
“Thanks,” Slinger grinned back and just like that, the mood shifted. Gone was the tense, awkward atmosphere and in its place was something lighter that made it a little easier to breathe.
“And just so you know,” I patted his forearm. “I would never look at you and think you worked at Wal-Mart.”
Slinger’s eyes rounded, popping out just enough to tell me I’d hit a nerve, and his gaze snapped to Finn, who was stepping through the patio entryway with a steaming plate of fresh brats in his hand. Finn froze mid-step, glancing uncertainly between the two of us on the couch, his lips pulling apart in a wince at our current seating arrangement.
“What?” Finn frowned.
“Don’t what me, Finn—or should I call you Brett?” Slinger shot back.
Now I was lost. “Why are you calling him Brett?”
Slinger crossed his arms sullenly over his chest, shooting daggers at Finn. “As in Brett Favre. Vile betrayer.”
Finn pointed a pair of greasy tongs right at his roommate. “That’s going too far! I don’t even know what I did, but—too far, Sling. Too damn far!”
I turned to Slinger, still baffled by the strange argument happening before my eyes. “I don’t get what’s happening here. Why is Finn like Brett Favre?”