3. Finn #4
“Hi,” I said as I approached the big, bulky figure sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree. He had long, wild hair and a full, strong beard. His flannel shirt was checkered, red and white, and he wore sturdy denim jeans and big hiking boots.
He lifted his head and looked at me, measuring me for half a heartbeat before he rose to his feet. “You’re Finn, right?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Would you like to go on a walk, Finn?” he asked.
Respectful. I liked it. “Sure,” I said and came closer. “Sorry, I’m not sure I know your name.” Or, to be more precise, I believe they were joking when they told me. But I didn’t dare say that last part aloud.
“It’s Bear now,” he said, and my vision turned dark.
Of fucking course. “Right,” I sighed. “Bear.” Now? I took a step forward. “And before?”
He let out a low rumble coming deep from within his chest. “Preston. But I don’t go by that anymore. Not since July.”
“Oh, so…this is recent?” I asked.
Bear nodded deeply. “I always knew that Mother Nature had a plan for me. It just took a while to understand what she was telling me.”
I came closer to Bear, who showed no sign of wanting to hug.
And when I got near enough, I was thankful.
Bear, it turned out, abandoned showering together with his former self.
I took another step, desperate for the ground to open up and swallow me whole, when I knew what to do.
“Ouch!” I tumbled a tad too dramatically.
“Oh, ouch, oh no. My ankle. Shit, I think I twisted my ankle.”
Bear looked lethargic, committed to the act, but he stepped closer. “Oh, poor little birdie,” he said, really driving home the point that he was a soft-hearted giant.
He was hot, no doubt about it, in that grizzly way an off-grid recluse from Harrison’s book covers would be, but he was no different from Knox despite the ten-year gap.
“No, no, I’ll be okay,” I said. “I can manage. Ah, but I think maybe a hike isn’t the best idea.
I’m clumsy, too in love with city life, and have to write an essay for tomorrow.
” I threw out all my excuses for him to pick whichever he liked, thanked him for showing up, and trotted down to the base of the trail until Bear disappeared from my vision completely.
He was probably out there hunting his dinner. Or gathering it. I didn’t ask.
I stretched out my stride after I was sure he wasn’t near me, stepping on my two healthy ankles until I heard the laughter rising from a picnic blanket. Jason noticed me first, his happy face falling at the sight of me. “Already?”
I gave a deep, disappointed shrug, then dropped onto the picnic blanket with them.
There were cans of beer and soda, and I went for the beer.
“Do you guys interview these candidates at all when they respond to your ad? And where is this ad, anyway? A public toilet? A therapist’s waiting room magazine? ”
“Um, Bear’s not from an ad,” Harrison said. “He’s a friend, actually.”
“Fuck,” I grumbled. “Sorry.”
“He funded a few plays I produced a few years ago,” Harrison said.
“Mm, let me guess, until he understood what Mother Nature was telling him to do?” I asked.
“Something like that,” Harrison said.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose, then pulled a long sip of my beer. “I think I’m done.”
A collective “aw” wrapped around me. Well, collective, except for Taylor. “I refuse to give up. I believe in true love, my friend. Your guy or gal is just around the corner; we just haven’t looked hard enough.”
I had another sip of beer before answering. “The problem is that you’ve looked too hard. Let’s face it—setting me up with someone random just because of a trope isn’t going to work.”
“To be fair,” Bennet said, leaning in. “You’ve gone through our three lowest-scoring candidates. I always maintained these were the Hail Maries of dates.”
I inhaled to tell him to shut up, but then I held my breath, looked at Bennet’s no-nonsense expression, and sighed. “Tell me who they are. I’m not going in blind anymore.”
They looked at each other, then silently agreed, and Bennet listed them off on his fingers.
“There’s a manic pixie Harrison knows from a pop-up theater.
There’s the grumpy side of a grumpy/sunshine pairing.
A himbo with a heart of hold. A single dad on Friday.
Oh, and we spoke to one guy, and we’re pretty sure he’s a secret royal, but we can’t confirm.
It would also kill the whole point if we found out right away. ”
“Aren’t there any girls?” I asked, knowing the answer.
Well, it turned out, I didn’t know the answer.
Defeated, Jason said, “Bennet’s still figuring out the methodology.”
“I…” My slouch deepened. “Fine. But let’s go back now. I actually have an essay to write, and I haven’t even picked up the books I need.”
We drained our cans, four beers and the designated driver’s soda, then crushed them and carried the picnic stuff to the car.
This week had no end in sight, but if the rest of these dates happened to be scheduled for evenings, I might as well go out and meet a secret prince. The alternative, without the hook-up apps on my phone, was to stay in my room and meet no one at all.