jesse
CHAPTER SIX
I rolled my shoulders to release some of the tension and tiredness in my muscles, but it did little to relieve the strain. At least the room was all mine for the evening, so I could lie down, put a bowl of snacks on my chest, and read until my eyes popped out of my head.
Not that I couldn’t do that stuff with Malcolm around, but sharing a room was a constant test of patience.
I walked up the stairs and down the hallway, observing along the way how music was seeping from under one door, laughter came through another, and a soft puffing sound from the third before I pushed the key into my room’s lock and went inside.
Malcolm was sprawled on his bed in his shorts, a phone in his hand, a grin on his face as he looked up. “You’re back already.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean, what are you doing here, Malcolm? You have a date with Finn,” I said.
“Um, no,” Malcolm said. “I texted you three hours ago to cancel. Haven’t you seen that?”
“Fuck,” I said under my breath and tossed my backpack on the bed, then rummaged through it until I found my phone buried at the bottom.
I’d turned on the leave-me-alone mode, which I’d customized so that nobody could get through to me.
In fairness, I’d turned that mode on three years ago and I’d hardly looked at the rectangle of doom since.
“Fuck,” I said, louder, when I saw the text from Malcolm. “You don’t feel like it?”
“Yeah, I’m feeling a little…I dunno,” he said.
“Your stomach?” I asked. “I’ve got some probiotics.”
Malcolm shook his head. “No. What? I’m nervous. It’s been ages since I last went on a blind date. And that didn’t go well. I think I’ll stick with what works.” He returned to the screen of his phone while panic bubbled inside of me. Malcolm looked up at me. “You told him not to come, right?”
My mouth went dry. “No,” I said. “I didn’t see the message, Malcolm. You stood him up. We stood him up.”
“Well, shit,” Malcolm said. “You better call him.”
“I don’t have his number,” I whispered.
“Look him up, Jesse. He probably has Insta or something,” Malcolm said. “And you’d better hurry.”
I had none of that. I wasn’t a big fan of selling my attention in exchange for ads, so I rolled my eyes and signed. “I was having such a nice day,” I murmured, then slipped the phone and the keys into my pocket, and I headed out.
Malcolm shouted he was sorry as I stepped out, but I didn’t really blame him. He’d been diligent enough to cancel hours ago. It was my shitty habits that left Finn hanging.
I’d been at the library for a solid two hours, then I’d gone to the gym for a long workout. Luckily, I’d showered at the gym, but I was in my sweatpants and an old, sleeveless top that was only good for wearing when I went to the gym and back.
My feet carried me quickly across campus, then down one street and another until I reached the flaming colors of Whitmore Street’s canopy of trees.
At the very corner was the rustic little café, and inside, by the window, the bored and hopeless expression on the ever-beautiful face of my once-upon-a-time best friend.
My heart clenched, taking my breath away with guilt, and I hurried inside. The bell above the door rang when I pushed the door open, and Finn’s gaze flicked to me with a look of mild annoyance. Then he blinked and stared at me, a little frown furrowing his brow.
I walked down the long, narrow café until I reached the table for two with a scented candle burning in the middle of it and an open menu in front of Finn.
“I am so sorry, Finn,” I stammered, ever tongue-tied around him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, tilting his head as I dropped into the chair across from him. There was perhaps a bit of concern on his pretty face, but it was mostly amusement now. “If this is your way of scoring a date with me, there are easier methods.”
I barked a nervous laugh and shook my head. “God, no.” Then I heard the words I’d just said and winced. “I mean, I didn’t want to trick you. Malcolm chickened out.” I told him the whole thing, and Finn just leaned back with a half-smile on his face, almost showing one dimple before his smile faded.
“You didn’t have to come,” he said. “I was giving it five more minutes before leaving.”
“I feel really bad about it,” I admitted. “Let me buy you a coffee, at least.”
“Sure,” Finn said. “Coffee sounds good. But don’t feel bad. I’ve had terrible dates this whole week.” He checked out the menu again. “It’s like the universe has conspired against my love life. I should start listening to what it’s telling me.”
When he glanced up at me, my heart dropped. He didn’t mean… No, of course not.
And he confirmed the thing I knew when he said, “I should stay put and not even try dating, to be honest. The more I chase it, the further it seems.”
“They couldn’t have been all that bad,” I said.
The server came around and took our orders.
I leaned in as Finn tried to hold back a smile, but then he laughed and shook his head.
“Yesterday, I went out with this poet type. Don’t ask.
Bennet has a clipboard, and he calculated high odds that a hopeless romantic was exactly the sort of person I would fall in love with instantly.
We went to his place so I could meet his cats.
And when he started telling me which one was Leonardo and which one was Rafaelo, I asked if Splinter was around.
You know? A rat training the cats. Funny, right?
He looked at me, blinked, and just went on introducing Vincent, Salvador, and Caravaggio.
And I wish I could say that’s when I realized my mistake, but it took me a whole hour before I figured out there never were any Vincents and Salvadors in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. ”
I threw my head back and laughed out loud, the tension leaving my shoulders at last. “You’re lying.”
“I wish I were,” Finn said, his cheeks turning a little pink. “This is all to say that I didn’t stay the night.”
“I tried to help, but all you’re getting is coffee with me instead of the happy ending you’re after,” I said. I intentionally didn’t read too much into my own words. They tumbled out on their own.
Finn looked at me, held his gaze on me, then cast it down my face. “I can’t believe how much you’ve changed.”
“I can’t believe you recognized me,” I said hurriedly. Being observed by him so thoroughly wasn’t something I could do for long.
I’d been a scrawny kid with long limbs and a really big head, the front two teeth larger than all the others, and hair so fluffy it grew in all directions, never resting, never settling.
Well, I cropped my hair short these days. My limbs were still long, but they were sculpted with muscles, and tattoos adorned much of my body. I couldn’t do anything about my teeth, but I learned to like my imperfections once I realized how boring the so-called perfections were.
“You haven’t changed at all,” I said without thinking.
A shocked look came over Finn’s face. “Are you telling me I look like I’m twelve?”
“No!” I protested. “Not at all. I meant… Well, I just meant, I’d recognize you anywhere. You still have dimples when you smile, and your hair’s the same color. You’re obviously…um. Yeah.” I grabbed my coffee and wished it were ten times bigger so I could hide my face behind it.
“I’m obviously what?” Finn asked. “Be nice.”
I forced a laugh that sounded a lot more casual than I felt. Setting my cup down, I drew a deep breath and tilted my head to one side. “You’re obviously all grown up.”
“That it?” he teased. “I’ll add it to my little book of compliments. Thanks.”
He knew he was beautiful. It was so achingly obvious to anyone who glanced anywhere near him. The servers here looked at him when they passed by. They didn’t look at the table, didn’t search for empty cups; they looked at him. And so did everyone else.
And so did I.
It was like a second sun rising in the sky one morning. You couldn’t help yourself; you had to look. You had to look directly at it, even if it burned your retina and left a permanent mark for the rest of your life, you couldn’t not look.
But he knew that already, and me being all sentimental helped nobody. “What do you want me to say?” I asked with a laugh. “You must have gotten plenty of compliments from your terrible dates.”
“Vanity begs for more,” Finn said.
We shared a brief moment of silence. A piano solo poured from the speakers, filling the space with its tranquil melody, while I tried to look away from him.
The thing about Finn that had always bugged me in the depths of my heart was the ease with which he gripped my attention.
When we were kids, Finn had been the adventurous one, and I went along with everything he suggested.
I hadn’t had the courage to suggest anything because what I wanted more than all else was to lie in the shade of a tree and hook his pinky with mine.
I’d gotten so close to doing it more times than I could ever count.
I’d anticipated all the outcomes, but always hoped that the thundering heartbeat flooding my ears would dissolve into comfortable silence between us, his pinky curling around mine in turn, and all the fear would melt away.
But I had never found a way to quiet that deafening hum of my own blood or to close the distance between his pinky and mine, however close they were.
After a moment, the silence grew too intrusive, and my mouth betrayed just how difficult it was to sit there and look at him. “What’s it like being a frat bro?” I asked.
Finn barked a laugh. “Brilliant. We’ve already established a super-secret society that’ll rule the world someday.”
“Mm, typical.”