jesse
CHAPTER TEN
“Finn, what are you…?” But my words died on my lips as I realized I was as close to naked as you can decently be, and heat flushed my cheeks furiously.
Finn didn’t wait to be invited. He’d learned his lesson the last time he’d stood on the doorstep. He pushed in past me, closing the door and leaning against it like he wanted to block my only exit from the room.
If he got any closer, I’d open a new exit through the window. I’d do anything to leave this pressure-cooker of a situation.
But I wasn’t the only one with a red face and wild eyes. Finn’s chest was rising up and down like he had been running here.
“What happened?” I asked.
He stared at me, searching for something that I had clearly hidden well, because he wasn’t finding it. “I don’t want to date anymore.”
“Heh, join the club,” I said, trying to chuckle nonchalantly. It sounded so forced that I wanted to bite my tongue off. “Dating sucks,” I conceded.
Finn shook his head, curls flying. “No, that’s not what I mean. I don’t want to go out on blind dates. I don’t want you guys picking my match. I’m done sitting on my ass and waiting for it to happen.”
I took a careful step backwards. The worst part of it was a sudden flash of hope that seared my insides and constricted my throat. “Um, okay?” And even now, I was trying to pretend I couldn’t care less one way or the other. Even now, I wanted him to know how uninvested and cool I was.
Yes, Jesse, I wanted to shout at myself, Ruin it so you can be right all the time about everything!
“Do you remember what you told me when you left?” he asked.
My feet turned to stone. Somehow, with the force of titans, I lifted my shoulders in a half-assed shrug. “Bye?”
“Jesse,” he whispered, pleading, and my heart split in two.
“Finn, I’m wearing a towel,” I said, my throat dry and voice weak. “Did Alejandro do something wrong?” You were laughing, I thought, jealousy flaring within me against all my attempts to rationalize my feelings.
Finn shook his head. “He was wonderful. A perfect match. You picked him well. Almost like you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“Me.”
And still, I searched for an excuse so that I could send him on his way. I just wanted him to turn around and leave, to have that wonderful, sexy, fulfilling life he was so desperate for, and to leave the lost cause that I was far, far behind.
That was when I knew I was a coward. I remembered it all, remembered the itch of the carpet against my bare feet, the strange scents in my room now that all my things were packed in boxes, the scent of cardboard and duct tape and a deeper, more prevalent scent of the cabinets and closets when they’d had a chance to air out after years of hoarding all the scents of my clothes and shoes and toys.
I remembered Finn looking at me with those big, hopeful, sky-blue eyes, waiting for me to say something or simply enjoying the last few moments of silence.
And I remembered telling him, “I wanted this to last forever.”
“It will,” he’d told me, so sure of himself and of me and of us.
But it couldn’t have lasted. I left the next morning, holding down the tears when my father drove down the street past Finn’s house, and I spotted Finn in the window, lifting his hand as if he’d been waiting to see me one last time, waiting to see the car pass down the street.
For months, Finn was the first thing that happened in my mornings. He was the first message on my phone, the first thought in my head, the first regret I could taste like hot ash on my tongue.
And I just couldn’t…
I couldn’t.
“It was a good guess,” I whispered, but Finn smiled, not accepting the answer.
“Stop pretending,” he said. “And I promise I’ll stop pretending, too.”
I let out a small, strangled laugh.
“Jesse.” He licked his lips and moved from the door.
“God, this is scary. I don’t even know if I still know you.
It’s been ten years, and you ghosted me, and you made me think I did something wrong.
And you never made it right, but I don’t blame you.
Not anymore. Sometimes, I think that maybe I hate you, but then I remember that I couldn’t hate you.
Ever. And I’m here, Jes. Right here. So let’s get it over with. ”
“Finny,” I whispered, voice breaking.
His eyebrows rose on his gorgeous face, hope exploding like the birth of the universe, stars glimmering in his eyes.
“Maybe it can’t last forever,” Finn said, echoing those ancient words so easily because he never forgot.
“And you can tell me you don’t remember all you like, but I see your thumb searching for a pocket, and I know you’re lying even if all you’re wearing is that damned towel. ”
I laughed now. Truly laughed. It was a single, sudden burst of laughter that quickly choked in my throat, and I shook my head.
“What’s the point?” I asked, still trying to ruin it.
It was like I was at war with myself and all that I wanted.
Just a few hours ago, I’d been running to stop him from meeting Alejandro.
I’d gone to him without a plan, without a speech, convinced that once I’d prevented the date, I would have things to say to him.
And he was doing the same with me. Natural, spontaneous, liberated. He looked into my eyes and asked me—begged me—to tell him the truth.
And I couldn’t.
“We’ll just watch each other change,” I said, ruining it. “Until we don’t recognize each other at all. And the pain of that is so much worse than the pain of not getting what you want in the first place.”
Finn laughed.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. It’s just…” He looked down and took a far more confident step toward me, then lifted his gaze to mine. “You admit it, then. You want it.”
“People want all sorts of things,” I whispered lamely. “It doesn’t make it the right thing to do.”
He took another step, smaller this time, but only because the space between us now measured in inches, not paces. “Stop talking,” he said gently.
My mouth remained open, but the words died.
Finn looked into my eyes, and a thousand fires blazed in them.
All the words that he’d just banished into oblivion returned with a vengeance. “This isn’t the smart thing to do. We could ruin our friendship. I’m a coward, Finny. I’m not boyfriend material. I’m scared.”
But he didn’t pause once. He leaned in, stopping my words again when he pressed his mouth against mine.
In an instant, all the thorny, jagged edges of life smoothed out, and the clash never happened.
We neither collided nor repelled one another.
The world didn’t end. My heart didn’t explode.
We didn’t turn away from each other in distaste.
Instead, he pressed his mouth so gently against mine for a long, long moment, the softness of his lips caressing mine.
His lips parted, and mine were still a little open from spilling those silly excuses into the narrow space between us.
And when the tip of his tongue ventured shyly into my mouth, I finally regained control of my arms, my hands, and my fingers.
I moved them just enough to hold on to his jacket, to put my hands around his waist and hold on to him, while he kissed me a little deeper.
And when I knew I could use my hands, I knew I could do anything.
I pushed one foot forward, stepping barefoot between his shoes, and felt the cool metal of his jacket’s zipper and buttons against my naked torso, felt the heat of his hands when they settled on my biceps, felt the soft warmth of his lips move over mine, and I was okay.
I was terrified. I was overthinking it. I was going to ruin it. But I was okay.
So I kissed him back, hard and fast, pushing my head forward and grinding my mouth against his, fingers curling around his waist and sinking into the layers of his clothes.
The fire roaring inside of me wasn’t a destructive one. Or if it was, it only destroyed all my reservations and fears and lies I’d told myself.
My hands moved up the length of his torso, moving in to feel his chest under the jacket, and higher still until my fingertips brushed against his warm, soft skin.
He was real. He was really here. His tongue explored my mouth freely now, touching mine and teasing me until I shivered all over.
And then, he laughed. Just like that. He laughed like it was all a big joke, and fear clamped my heart with its cold, steel grip for an immeasurable moment before he kissed me again.
He pressed his mouth gently against mine, kissing me softly for a long time while I just held on to him and made sure it lasted. It was the first kiss, the first after years of imagining it, dreaming about it, staying up at night wanting it, and hurting for not having it.
And then he pulled his head back and blinked, his eyes a little dazed. “There,” he whispered. “The world’s still spinning.”
“I feel it,” I said. And it wasn’t an exaggeration. I felt us hurtling through space, holding on to each other so we wouldn’t be flung into the deep cosmos. I felt so light on my feet that I feared I might just float away if I let go of him.
Finn laughed and licked his lips, biting the lower one for a moment, and it was so cute and natural that I had the urge to kiss him all over again. “Your roommate?” he asked.
“He’s out,” I said. I almost didn’t add the next few words because they felt like they presumed too much. But then I said them anyway. “For the night.”
Finn’s gaze flicked to my eyes, and he watched me for a moment. “Do you want me to stay?”
“Do you need to ask?”
His mouth lifted into a half-smile. “No.” But after a moment, he added, “I need you to say it, though.”
I reached for his waist again and pulled him closer.
Close enough that he could feel most of my body pressed against him.
I didn’t have to wonder if he felt it, because his eyebrows lifted a little and the pinkness in his cheeks grew darker.
“Oh,” he whispered, breathless, and grinned. “You still have to say it.”
“Finn, I want you to stay,” I said, not stumbling over my words even once. “If you want to stay.”