Best Friends, Tennessee (Hard Spot Saloon #1)

16. Finn

16

FINN

Be as stubborn as you want to be, and I’ll still be here to take care of you.

And laugh at you. And fuck you, too. So long as you let me.

I woke up to Ori’s hand, gentle on my shoulder, shaking me awake.

I opened my eyes to see him sitting on the edge of the bed next to me, a hot mug of coffee in his hand.

“Sleepyhead,” he said softly. “Way past your wake-up time.”

“Shit,” I murmured, seeing that it was already seven thirty in the morning. Sunlight was pouring through the window. “Good thing today’s my day off. You’re never up before me.”

He was wearing one of those pristine white sweaters, and the baby blue of his eyes looked more radiant than ever in the morning light. His cheekbones were thrown into relief, and I was struck more than ever by how beautiful he was.

Ori was stunning.

He had been, all along, and I’d been too airheaded to know it.

“I’ve got plans,” he said. “Get up and get ready. We’re driving somewhere.”

I grabbed the mug of coffee from him, taking a sip. “Should I be scared? Is this like that one time in senior year when you took me to a goth rave in high school?”

He snorted. “I forgot about that.”

“I’ll never forget it. I had neon paint in my hair for days.”

“I thought it was going to be an art fair , and it turned out to be three hundred people dancing in a factory.”

“ Awful music,” I said, smiling. “But it was fun.”

“We’re not going anywhere like that today,” Ori said. “Not a big trip. But you are required to come with me.”

I gave him a little half-salute. “Ready to follow orders, sergeant.”

He glanced down at my bare chest, his eyes lingering on it a moment before he popped up off the bed. “I’ll be ready in the living room whenever you are. I made some eggs and toast.”

“Christ, for someone who’s not a morning person, you sure are chipper today,” I said, hauling out of bed. He was already off down the hallway, and I got up, showered quickly, and threw on some jeans, a white shirt, and a red flannel on top.

I crammed into the passenger seat of Ori’s beetle ten minutes later, coffee in hand in a Thermos mug.

“Good to go?” Ori asked, firing up the engine.

“Should have just taken my truck,” I said. “My head almost hits the ceiling of this thing.”

“Tough shit,” Ori said, pulling out onto the road. “The Beetle is a classic, and you know it.”

“It’s an ancient relic, at this point,” I said. “How many dudes have you fucked in here?”

“None, actually,” Ori said. “None of them have been worthy of it.”

I snorted, shaking my head as I looked out at the road. The sun lit up every inch of the landscape, the rolling hills lush and green after drinking up everything spring had given them. It must have rained for an hour or two in the early hours, because there was dew all over, like a damn painting. With the gentle curves of the mountains in the distance, I didn’t know how anybody could hate this place.

It was paradise, to me. I knew every farm and ranch we passed by. Knew who lived in half the houses, too.

I knew Ori’s memories of this place were vastly different from my own. But I couldn’t help but love it here more and more, with every passing year.

Bestens was different.

People wanted you to feel at home here. I’d never seen anyone treated poorly since I got out of high school—out of the bubble where students were cruel to each other for no goddamn reason.

I wanted to show Ori how good it could be now. Driving with him on this golden morning was heaven, as far as I was concerned.

He took the car down past the ranch, curving around behind the high school and onto Freighton Road.

“All right, so we definitely aren’t going to a rave,” I said, squinting out the window. “Are we going to pick up trash in the dirt lot behind the park, or something? Ain’t much back here, Ori.”

He gave me a look, and as he turned onto the next small, empty street, it dawned on me.

“You know where we’re going,” he said.

“Oh, fuck you,” I said, but there was no real anger in my voice. I looked back out down the side street, seeing it in the near distance.

He was taking us to the tree.

The damned big, old oak that the two of us used to sit under, playing cards or talking or doing whatever the hell twelve-year-olds did.

When he pulled the car up alongside it, stopping in the dirt rut on the edge of the street, I was surprised how small the tree seemed now compared to how it looked when we were kids.

“Is that really it?” I said.

He smiled, looking out the window. “Let’s go.”

I followed him out of the car, through the clearing of dirt and onto the grass. We cut a path over to the tree.

From under its big canopy, you could just see the high school from here. The middle school was a little closer, and that’s how we used to get to this place—we’d walk here after school, cut a path through the little league field and the park, hop a fence, and cross a dirt lot.

It gave way to grass and trees, and this one was always the one with the most shade.

Ori’s shoes crunched on some leaves at the base of the tree. We approached it, and we looked at the trunk. Now, it seemed bigger again, up against the trunk.

It was still there.

Covered in dust, and only a little softened by time.

Best Friends, Tennessee.

He’d been the one who carved it onto the trunk, when we were eleven or twelve. I’d been too scared, back then, to do anything close to breaking a rule.

I met Ori’s eyes, shaking my head. “We were dumb.”

“I think we were awesome.”

He leaned against the base of the tree and slid down, sitting on the grass below it. I followed, just like I used to, sitting beside him. I plucked a long piece of grass, twirling it around in my fingers.

The breeze was warm today. It smelled the same here as it always had, like dirt and leaves and… well, like home.

You could just make out the edge of the big metal bleachers at the high school, the ones where Ori used to sit and watch me at my practices. By the time high school came around, we didn’t hang out at this tree anymore.

“So,” I finally said.

“So.”

I turned to him, squinting. “You trying to make some kind of point?”

“Just wanted to sit here.”

I nodded slowly. “Well, all right.”

He was silent for another minute, and the only sound was of the wind in the leaves above us.

I felt like there was suddenly something he wasn’t saying, and it was building up a pressure inside me that had no right being there.

I didn’t want to go down memory lane, if all of this was going to disappear within a year.

Why focus on what we used to be if that version of us was over?

My chest hollowed out. I clenched my jaw, waiting for Ori to say something.

He cleared his throat a minute later, finally looking up at me.

“I’m not going to Miami,” he told me.

I stared at him, waiting for another part, or a punchline. But I am going to New York. Or back to LA. Or to frickin’ Paris, France, anywhere away from here .

But that didn’t come.

“Why not Miami?” I managed to say.

He looked away, then back at me. “Because it’s not realistic.”

I hummed, looking at the ground. “Okay.”

“And because I’m in love with you.”

I felt the wind blow in under the edge of my open flannel.

I met his eyes, hanging in the moment, still waiting for some part of it to be a joke. Waiting for the part where he’d tell me he was leaving.

My heart was in a knot.

I want that to be real.

I want it to be real more than any fuckin’ thing I’ve ever wanted.

I swallowed past a tightness in my throat, tossing away the blade of grass I’d torn up with my fingers.

“Miami sounded perfect for you,” I said, my drawl coming out more than ever as I looked away from his eyes. I had to keep beating around the bush, to not look what he’d said dead in the eye, otherwise I felt like I might burst.

“Maybe,” he told me, his voice soft. “But not right now. I, uh, don’t think perfect means what I once thought it did. You know?”

I set my jaw.

I was afraid to ask what he meant by that.

I knew what I wanted to be true, but I couldn’t ask it. Couldn’t say it out loud.

The weight of every year I’d known Ori all came to sit on my shoulders, all at once. I glanced at the distant buildings of the middle school, the baseball field, the bleachers over by Bestens High.

“You know,” I said, sitting up a little taller. “I didn’t protect you back then because I thought you needed it. I knew you didn’t need it.”

Ori breathed deep. “So why’d you do it?”

I puffed out a laugh, shaking my head. “Ah, fuck.”

“Finn,” he said, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder.

Fuckin’ keep it together.

“I think it was for me,” I managed to spit out. “I needed to feel useful. Like I mattered.”

“Don’t know how you could ever doubt how much you mattered,” he said in a soft tone.

I swallowed. I really felt like I was watching this conversation from above now, like I was out of my own body.

When had it all gotten so real?

“You know,” I said, “I didn't even have my own home for a while in high school. Maybe I never felt like I had one at all. Mom high all the time, Dad gone. I never let that get to me back then. Kept my head down. But sometimes, if I think too hard about it, it makes me feel like I’m going to die, Ori. You know?”

It was more than I’d said on the topic in years.

More than ever, maybe.

How could I explain how empty my childhood had felt?

How empty it had been everywhere other than with Ori?

His arm came around my shoulders, pulling me in, like a hug from the side. “I can tell you that I never would have admitted it back then, but I was glad when you came to stay with us for a while.”

“Hah. Bullshit.”

“You were the worst. But you were the fuckin’ best , Finn.”

My heart felt too big for my chest. I couldn’t look at Ori right now, but the weight of his arm around me felt so good I couldn’t really make sense of it.

I squinted up at the sky. “You used to even make fun of the cereal I ate.”

Ori snorted. “Because what other teenagers actually like raisin bran?”

“I’m sure plenty of them do.”

He hummed. “No way. You’re special,” he said. “I did like walking out and seeing you eating it every morning. I liked knowing you’d be happier on days you had a football practice lined up. Fighting over the TV with you, too.”

I was lost in memory. “God, that one time. With the lemonade.”

“You had the fucking balls to pour a whole goddamn Big Gulp of icy lemonade on me,” he said. “Just because I changed the channel.”

“Your Mom screamed at me, but she was even laughing later on.”

“Yeah,” Ori said. “I even liked that. Fucker.”

We were silent for a bit, and I felt like something was thawing inside me, slowly and steadily. Like I was coming alive after the longest winter of my fucking life.

Ori was looking down when I glanced back over at him. He kicked a patch of the dirt with the toe of his shoe, his brow knit, lost in thought.

“You know,” he finally said, “there’s a very small art museum at the college in Sable Valley. Except, it’s not really that small anymore, because there was some rich-ass guy in their alumni who donated a million for the museum. They’ve done good things with it, apparently, and, well… I was thinking of checking it out, and I might even like working there for many years, if—”

“Ori,” I interjected. “Don’t do this.”

No, no, no.

“What?”

I gave him a serious look. “Don’t make your dreams smaller,” I said, my chest tightening. “For me or for anyone.”

He gazed at me, the wind blowing a piece of his hair to one side. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t like Tennessee. Period. You don’t have to lie to me about it.”

“I never thought I’d be saying this, but Tennessee really isn’t that bad.”

“ Don’t ,” said in a warning tone.

“Finn, what’s your problem? I thought you’d be happy to hear I was thinking about it.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you regret something for the rest of your life,” I said quickly, my voice rising more than I wanted it to.

I stood up quickly, my boot slipping on the dirt. I steadied myself on the tree trunk, my hand resting just above our little carving.

I felt like the world was crumbling all around me.

It was too much. Too overwhelming. Being here, hearing Ori say that stuff, all of it.

I turned and started walking back toward the car.

Before I could make it to the passenger side door Ori had come up, standing between me and the car, blocking me.

“I can do whatever I want, and you know it,” he said. “Maybe I do want to stay here.”

My heart was pounding. I shook my head, unable to make eye contact with him. “Don’t pity me.”

“Fuck you. It isn’t pity.”

“I’ll never be able to live in a world where you don’t get to follow what you really want,” I told him.

When I looked back at him, his gaze was steadfast. “Maybe I was wrong about what I wanted. For once in my life, maybe I can accept that.”

“You’ve always chased the city. Not going to let you lie to yourself—”

“I’ve always chased belonging ,” he corrected me. “And maybe I can belong somewhere other than the city, if I’m happy. If I belong with you .”

Every defense inside me shattered to pieces, all at once.

I puffed out a breath of air, reaching out a hand to lean it on the side of the beetle.

“Ori,” I said.

“I hated it here because I was afraid,” he said, his voice softer now. “Finn, I’m not afraid anymore. I’ve been so—”

“Stop.”

“I’ve been so goddamn blind for so long.”

I let out a laugh that was more of a sob. “Oh, I’ve been the blind one, and we both know it,” I said, my words coming from the back of my throat.

“Then come here ,” he said, his arms wrapping around my waist.

“God, Ori,” I said, moving in to kiss him.

And I kissed him hard. I pulled him as tight as I could against me.

I broke off only when I desperately needed to breathe, and desperately needed to tell him the only thing I could think.

“I love you. And it’s really not casual. I’m tired of pretending.”

“You know I love you too, Finn,” he said. “And maybe that’s more important than any city or town I’ve ever thought would be my answer.”

My hands squeezed tight against his back. I was clutching him like I’d dissolve into molecules if I didn’t.

Like I was making up for years and years of lost time holding him.

“You can fuck whoever you want so long as you’re always with me,” I rushed to say, leaning back and looking into his eyes. “You can be totally free. I’ll be jealous as all hell, but I’ll let you do anything, Ori—”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to fuck anybody else. Trust me. With other people, I could only do casual, but with you… casual isn’t even in the fucking dictionary, Finn.”

I moved lower, kissing against the side of his head. “I don’t believe any of this, just so you know. I’m pretty sure you’re going to have to wake up every morning and reassure me that this wasn’t a dream, and that you’re really still on board.”

“I know,” he said. “I can do that. Hell, I’ll even get up before six and come shovel horse shit with you, if you want me to.”

I laughed, exhaling. “No you won’t.”

“I might,” he said, a gleam in his eye.

There was so much of me that really couldn’t believe any of it. Couldn’t trust it yet, after years of uncertainty.

But another part of me?

Another part of me fuckin’ knew .

He did belong with me. He’d belonged with me since the moment I met him, and he belonged with me even during all of the years where he was gone.

We just needed to see it.

A low buzz came from Ori’s pocket, and after it didn’t stop for a solid minute, I nodded down.

“You need to get that?”

“I don’t want to, but I should,” Ori said, pulling out his phone and looking at the screen. “It’s Dani.”

I nodded. “Answer it. We’ll have time to, y’know, merge our fuckin’ bodies with each other later.”

All the time in the world, if you’re staying here, I thought, so giddy inside I practically wanted to jump.

“Dani,” Ori said, answering the phone while he was still in my arms. He put it on speakerphone.

“Stage five chaos,” Dani said over the speaker, and I heard the clattering chaos of the diner behind her. “I know it’s your day off, Ori, but Mary Ellen brought in a group of ten , and there’s this event across the way—is there any chance—”

Ori gave me a questioning glance. I nodded at him.

“I can be there,” Ori told Dani. “I know how bad it can get.”

“You are a hero and a lifesaver,” Dani said. “I’m sure it’ll calm down in a couple of hours.”

After he hung up, he gave me a sympathetic look.

“I’m so sorry,” he told me.

“Don’t be,” I said, smoothing his hair. “I’ll come too. I’ll help field Mary Ellen. She always likes talking to me about the horses.”

Ori peered at me like he was in disbelief. “You’re amazing, Finn. Too nice, and too selfless, but amazing . Did I just win the fucking gay lottery?”

I laughed, and it made him laugh, too.

“Yeah, I guess you kind of did,” I told him. “I did, too.”

I kissed him again because I couldn’t help it, which was going to be something that was going to happen a lot , I was pretty sure.

As I pulled away, he shook his head.

“Never going to feel like I deserve you,” he murmured. “But I’ll try.”

“And I’m going to make it my mission to get you to believe it,” I said.

He swallowed. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too. Now get your ass in this hunk of metal and let’s get to the diner.”