8. Finn
8
FINN
Keep your friends close, and your tongue inside your childhood best friend’s mouth.
…That’s not the saying. Definitely not the saying.
I looked over my Google search history on my phone, my body getting hotter with embarrassment as I read back each line.
How can you tell if you like a guy?
How can you tell if you’re gay?
How can you tell if you’re straight, but want one guy?
Is asking to have sex with your best friend a really bad idea?
And the last one, which turned out to have a real gold mine of information: dick sucking tips.
I stared at the screen, feeling like I was a teenager who had just hit puberty instead of a 24-year-old man. I may as well have started searching for how to act normal again , because this week, it didn’t feel possible.
I glanced at the time and jumped up off the couch.
“Shit,” I muttered. I was late for the horses. It was already seven in the morning, way past when I usually left for Mason’s ranch.
I grabbed my keys and headed out to my truck. The horses would be fine, although they knew their schedules pretty well and they’d certainly be a little agitated. But my whole day was going to be thrown off. I usually helped with the horses at six so that I could come home, shower, and have plenty of time to get to my massage clients afterward.
I was going to need to be speedier than ever. My truck roared down the road as the sun rose behind a cluster of clouds.
Thunderclouds.
Not good.
Spring rain was great for the pastures, but I knew Maisie and Chomp absolutely hated when it rained. I usually liked to spend extra time with the horses who hated storms, but I wasn’t going to be able to do it today.
I pulled my truck into the dirt patch and cut the engine, hauling ass out toward the stalls.
“I’m here Maisie, I’m here,” I hollered out, already hearing her making a huff down the way.
“There you are,” Mason said as I walked in, waving over at me.
“Shit, you scared me,” I told him. He was never usually here in the mornings.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, and I could see in his eyes how tired he was. “Knew they weren’t going to like the thunder.”
“I had the same thought,” I told him, guilt pooling in my chest. “I’m sorry I’m late. I’ll head down to feed Chomp right away.”
“Don’t sweat it, Finn,” Mason said. “I’m up, for once, so I’ll help out. We can get right to it.”
I was grateful for the second pair of hands as we went about checking on each horse, feeding, and cleaning. The thunderclouds seemed to move past Bestens instead of through it, so luckily the worst of the storm was going to be avoided. We made our rounds in record time.
“There you go, Hopper,” I said, running my hand along his mane. Hopper was the older, steadier man of the ranch, and the calmest horse I’d ever known. During lessons, Mason and I agreed that Hopper was everyone’s favorite.
He never had a problem with anything. He’d gotten an injury a couple of months ago, a little sprain in one leg, but he was back to business now.
“He’s looking good, isn’t he?” Mason said, walking by.
“Thunder ain’t a damn thing to him,” I said. “Good sport, Hopper.”
I gave him a nuzzle before I knew I had to go.
“We rocked it,” Mason told me, giving me a nod. “Go clean up and get to your clients. I’ll see you in the afternoon.”
“Right. Shit. You’re one of the clients today,” I said. “God, I’m spacey.”
“Something on your mind?” Mason asked.
Oh, nothing.
Just can’t stop getting turned on thinking about my best friend.
Normal stuff.
“Been busy since Ori got back in town,” I said, heading back out toward my truck as Mason followed. “Things are different with him in Bestens.”
“I bet,” Mason said. He was looking at me with a glint in his eye, like he was wondering something but didn’t have time to ask. “I won’t keep you. See you later, Finn.”
I nodded at him, hopping back into my truck.
I raced home, showered off, and put on a clean set of clothes before beelining back out onto the road.
I would be able to make it to my first client, but it was going to be tight.
I was never late.
I seemed to have every red light and slow driver in Bestens in front of me as I made my way to the client’s house. I drummed on the steering wheel as I watched the time on the clock pass. I tried giving the guy a call twice, but he didn’t pick up. Jim Dunnas was one of my wealthier clients, and I knew he wasn’t exactly my most understanding client of all time.
“We’ve got this, we’ve got this,” I said under my breath even though I knew it wasn’t the case.
I pulled into his curved driveway five minutes past when the appointment was supposed to start. Sure as hell wasn’t going to have time to walk in calmly like I usually did, setting the tone for the whole appointment before we even got started.
I stepped out and hauled my portable table out of the back of my truck.
When I rang the doorbell and Jim answered the door, he gave me a look that made me feel about two feet tall.
“Got a meeting right after this and not much time to shower,” was the first thing he said, before I could apologize. “Let’s go.”
“I apologize, Jim,” I told him. “It won’t happen again.”
And it never has happened, not once in the past two years, I thought, biting back the urge to say it out loud.
“I’m busier than ever this week,” Jim said, which was another thing he said almost every single week. Jim was the CEO of a shipping logistics company a couple of towns over, and I was convinced he thought he was the most important person in the state of Tennessee. He got massages for an old sports injury around his shoulder, and we’d slowly been making progress on rehabilitating the muscle in the area.
Jim made multiple comments about my “tardiness” throughout the massage, even after I’d promised him a hefty discount for today.
I left his house with a pit in my stomach.
I knew it was my fault for being late.
Ori always said I was “too nice,” but in moments like these, where I actually was the one who’d fucked it up, guilt pooled in me like bile in my stomach.
The next three appointments I had were each their own little shitshow of a different variety, with an old woman who was wearing a gallon of perfume, a man with a cat that kept coming over to scratch and bite my ankle, and my final client, Mason.
And Mason was in serious Hot Mess mode.
He opened the door mostly naked, holding a pillow over his dick.
“Mason, for God’s sake,” I said.
“Hello again,” he said. “Just woke up from a nap. Sorry.”
He gave me a sympathetic look, and I could tell he actually did feel bad about his state of undress. His hair was going in all directions.
“Glad you got some sleep, finally.”
He looked… good, though. Even though everyone had always called Mason “Hot Mess,” people said the first part of the nickname was true—he was a hot guy, according to most people who described him.
I found myself wondering if I thought he was hot, for the first time, but I knew I wasn’t attracted to him.
I couldn’t imagine any guy turning me on the same way I’d been with Ori, actually. But maybe it was because I knew Ori so damn well.
Mason gave me a nod. “I’m sorry, Finn. Just rolled out of bed, but I didn’t want to flash you, so I grabbed a pillow.”
His house smelled delicious, and I noticed a ton of fresh cinnamon rolls on his kitchen counter as he led me through.
“Wait. I know those cinnamon rolls. Was Thomas here after I left this morning?” I asked.
“Mmhm,” Mason said. “Baked up some fresh cinnamon rolls for me before he headed over to the diner. I told him I wanted him to do it the other day, and he actually came over. I couldn’t believe it.”
For the first time all day, I felt a strange surge of hope inside me.
I liked the idea of Thomas hanging out with Mason.
Maybe it meant Thomas wasn’t going to be barking up Ori’s tree anymore.
Thomas was a great guy, but he didn’t seem… quite right for Ori. The idea of them together didn’t sit right with me, even though I had no basis for why .
Ori deserved a guy that was going to treat him like a fucking king, but also keep him grounded, too. He deserved a hot guy, of course. Someone who got his sense of humor, and…
I don’t know. He deserved a whole lot.
I walked through Mason’s living room, afternoon light pouring in through the tall windows. All of the clouds from earlier had blown off, giving way to a gorgeous afternoon.
“You and Thomas, huh?” I said.
He gave me a look. “We didn’t hook up, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Wasn’t going to ask,” I said as I set up the massage table.
“He likes your boy, though,” Mason said.
“My boy?”
“Ori. Thomas wouldn’t shut up about him.”
When I got home, even a hot shower didn’t fix the tornado in my mind. I paced around my house alone, trying to shake off the sense of failure. Being late to an appointment was one thing, but being late to everything because I was too busy thinking about sucking Ori’s dick was very different.
Christ.
Sucking Ori’s dick. My brain was about 50 steps ahead of anything that was even in the realm of reality.
After I’d made the rounds of my house a few times, I knew what I had to do.
If I was overthinking shit about Ori, the worst thing I could do was to avoid him.
I was going to head into the diner.
I got ready in about three minutes flat, popped on my Stetson hat, and headed back out.
Nothing had to be weird if I didn’t act like it was weird.
Ori wasn’t attracted to me, anyway.
He’d told me that about a billion times back in high school, and he’d always made damn sure to remind me that anything country-western wasn’t his jam.
It was that simple.
So fuckin’ stop thinking about it.
I walked down to the diner instead of driving. The sun had just set and the evening was cool and clear, with a sweet smell in the air after this morning’s humidity. I made my way down through the residential streets in my neighborhood, and by the time I reached Laurel Ave, I was practically ready to pounce into the diner.
I swung open the front door, walked in, and popped a squat on one of the stools in front of the counter.
Red Fox was the right idea. The clinking of silverware, the gentle murmur of conversation, and the smell of fresh brewed coffee helped me push the reset button every time I came in.
Dani was behind the counter with the long red ribbon she sometimes put in her hair at work. She turned around with a coffee pot in her hand, nodding at me.
“Oh, hey. Fancy seeing you around here,” she said. “Let me clear off the corner booth then I’ll swing back.”
“Finn, sweetie,” Patty said, coming behind me to give me a side-hug. Ori and Danielle’s parents still treated me like their third kid, and I’d never get sick of it. “Want a BLT?”
“I’m good for now, but thank you,” I said, looking around. “How’s tonight been for you guys?”
I scanned behind the counter, looking for a sign of Ori washing dishes in the back room. But I didn’t spot him.
“Crazy lunch rush, but we’ve been good ever since,” Patty said. She reached over toward the soda fountain, and I could tell she was making me one of their old-fashioned cream sodas even though I hadn’t asked. It had always been my favorite.
“Dad broke the espresso machine again,” Dani said as she came back over. She put a tray of dishes near the sink, lifting her eyebrows at me as she beelined back. “I’ve been on the phone with that repair guy so much I swear he’s my new therapist. Anyway. What’s up, Finn?”
I snorted. “Glad I’m not the only one who has to play therapist while I work.”
Dani grimaced. “Hot Mess again?”
“Hot Mess,” I said. “Although I’m starting to think he’s not exactly a mess , he just… lets too many people in. He never focuses on what he really needs, you know?”
“He was in a couple of nights ago,” Patty said. “He got in an hour-long conversation with an elderly woman about how to take care of orchids, then offered to volunteer at her flower nursery.”
“Guess that’s not the worst idea for him,” I offered. “If he’s going to do too many things in life, volunteering isn’t a bad thing to get caught up in.”
“He’ll grow out of it,” Patty said. “He’s still feeling the loss of his dad so strongly, and he’s healing by staying busy. He has a good heart, though. I’ve never seen Mason be anything but kind to anyone.”
“I think you’re right.”
The door jingled as it opened, and Danielle and her mom went to go help a big family who had just walked in. They sat them in the corner booth and got them started with drinks.
I still hadn’t seen any sign of Ori.
He would usually still be at work at this time, and he sure as hell hadn’t been at my house. When Dani got another quick break, I asked if Ori was on a break.
“You just missed him,” Dani said. “Went out with Thomas.”
I shifted on my seat. “He left with Thomas?”
Patty glanced over her shoulder at me from over by the flat-top grill. “It was really cute,” she said, a gleam in her eye.
“I’m off soon, though, and Dad’s with Olivia for another hour or two,” Dani told me. “You want to grab a drink?”
I wanted to ask about a million questions that I was afraid to ask.
Exactly how “cute” was it?
“Yeah,” I told Danielle. “I’ll take you up on those drinks.”