Chapter 15
This is weird.
The soft hum flooding my ears from the earbuds Finn chucked my way earlier makes things way more awkward as I linger a few paces behind him and his date.
An aquarium wouldn’t have been my first guess when it came to where he would have taken this woman who I don’t know a thing about.
Sure, I like aquatic animals as much as the next girl, but this is . . . not about me. Not really.
I stare at the glass in front of me and watch as a massive turtle swims by, gliding through the water toward another one.
The lighting on this floor sucks. It creates a dark, moody energy that has me looking over at the couple far too often.
It’s not overtly romantic, but with all of the dark corners and the lack of other people here, it’s a breeding zone for daring touches and quick kisses.
Over the last twelve hours, I’ve tried to prepare myself for what it would look like if he did tug her into a quiet corner and lay one on her.
Surely, it wouldn’t bother me. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’s been with someone, and despite his lack of dating life over the last couple of years, I’m not na?ve enough to believe he hasn’t been having sex.
Yet despite those reminders, I hardly got any sleep.
The images that flooded my mind were intense.
I fear they’ve been seared into my eyelids.
“So, since this place was your idea, does that mean you’re a shark kind of guy?”
His date’s voice crackles in my ear, making my shoulders pull back. I ignore the impulse to look over at them and continue eyeing the two turtles instead. Adjusting my grip on my purse strap, I try to exhale the swarm of angry bees in my chest.
“That depends on which kind we’re talking about. A nursing shark? Sure. A great white? I’ll have to disappoint you there.”
“You know, most shark attacks are caused by humans being where they shouldn’t.”
“Most, but not all. I’ve swam with some before, but never on my own and sure as hell never with the kind that could swallow me in two bites. I can’t say that I feel all that calm around a jaw full of blades.”
She laughs so softly it’s almost a giggle. “Fair enough.”
I hear footsteps on the shiny floor and turn my head to see them stepping out of this section.
My feet tingle as I stay rooted in place for another minute before following.
The lack of heels on my feet wasn’t exactly a style choice, but more of a “spy technique,” as decided by Finn.
Instead, I’ve paired a simple pair of leggings and a zip sweater with black sneakers that scuff the floor in a way my pumps never do.
The point of the change was to eliminate the click-clacking sound, yet I feel like the scuffing might be worse.
I’m out of my element here, and the more I pretend otherwise, the tenser I feel. His date’s conversation topics and innocent little giggles aren’t helping in the slightest.
“Watch your step; it’s a bit slippery,” Finn warns her.
Rounding the corner, I wince when my sneaker squeaks against the floor. The couple’s already halfway up the steps to the second floor, too far to hear my slip-up. When I see Finn’s palm on her back, stabilizing her, my knees lock. I stare at them until they’ve made it up and out of view.
It’s . . . innocent. Normal, even. Finn’s one of the good guys, and this is just him proving that. There’s no reason for my temperature to be spiking or the soles of my shoes to be sticking to the wet floor and delaying me from following.
I’m just giving them a moment alone. That’s it.
“You’re a lifesaver, Finn.”
His easy laugh fills my ear and travels down my neck and spine, encouraging me to move. “Let’s go this way. They’ve got manatees over here.”
“What about the fish? Let’s check them out first.”
I reach the staircase and start my ascent, listening closely for Finn’s response.
Despite suggesting his date take place at the aquarium, he’s never been a huge fan of fish.
Not since his cousin dumped two cans of fish food into his tank and killed the ones he had when he was nine.
He found them all floating the next morning.
“Sure,” he agrees.
The tightness in his voice doesn’t escape me. Still, he goes along with her and doesn’t use her suggestion as an excuse to write her off. My gut tightens. Yeah, that’s something I would have done.
An excited scream comes from behind me before a group of kids rush past me. The tallest of them is carrying a stuffed shark under his arm, and I crack a smile as who I assume to be their parents come up from behind me and follow at a quick pace.
Finn turns and glances behind him before the kids reach him and his date. The sunglasses and cap shield his face well enough, and while I think I feel his gaze land on me, I can’t see it. A beat later, he looks back at his date and smiles.
The sign sticking out of the wall says the fish are to the left, and I hang back a few feet while he heads that way, the woman he’s with in tow. She waves at the boy with the shark, and he flashes a toothy smile before taking off in the other direction, toward the manatee exhibit.
There’s something sharp digging into my spine as I follow them. My skin’s clammy, and I pull my hair up when it becomes too uncomfortable sticking to my neck. The woman reaches for Finn’s hand, and I swallow, trying to will this discomfort away.
Finn hesitates for a second when she takes his hand, but then he’s letting her thread their fingers and pull him further from me.
“You know, I was a bit nervous coming today,” she admits.
It’s louder over here, and I fight to keep close to them when they slip through a busy group near the largest fish tank. I can only hear them in the earbuds, and even then, it’s a bit staticky.
Finn’s baseball cap is still visible, and I focus on it. “There’s no need to be. I’m easy.”
“It’s not every day I’m asked to do this. Let alone with someone like you. Regardless of the circumstances, I still want to impress you, I guess.”
“Just be yourself. You don’t have to worry about impressing me.”
I flinch.
He says it so easily. Like he means it, which I know he does. My stomach sours as I think back to every date I’ve been on in the last year and how not a single man has ever said that to me.
I’ve heard other things that I wish I could forget.
Like, “Please don’t argue with me” or “Why can’t you just let me pay for you?
” There have been worse, sometimes cruel words that have been said when I haven’t been able to let certain things go.
I’ve heard plenty of “Can’t you smile a bit more?
” and “Have you ever considered not being such a cold bitch?”
The feeling of knowing you’re wrong for someone doesn’t get easier to swallow, regardless of how many times you’re reminded.
I’ve never claimed to be the type of woman who most men enjoy going out with, but as the weeks and months, hell, even years go by, I’m realizing there may not be a single man on this earth who’s going to feel differently.
My steps are slow as I follow the two of them through the exhibit.
Being here suddenly feels more like a punishment than a learning experience.
If anything, I think the only thing I’ve learned is that a guy like Finn isn’t in my future.
His understanding and patience isn’t shared with ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the male population, and watching him dote on a woman who he’s not even interested in isn’t doing anything for me besides hurt that sensitive part of myself that I wish didn’t exist.
My eyes begin to burn, and I’m quick to blink the moisture away before it can escape.
I’ve already stepped away from the crowd of excited kids and turned back toward the bathroom a few feet to the left.
Frustration burns like fire beneath my skin as I push the door open and duck into an empty stall, locking it with shaky fingers.
Blowing out a breath, I pull my phone from my bag and end the call I’ve been on this entire time, trying to focus on something else.
Work, a friend, a fucking notification from the Solitaire app I check every night, anything.
I swipe up on the screen and scroll my eyes over a few emails and calendar reminders before finding a text from Brielle.
Elle: Spa this week? I’m making Wes pay.
I tap out a reply while ignoring the way I’m pressing my lips together, willing them to stop quivering.
Me: Please. Just us, right?
She doesn’t reply instantly, which means she’s probably back at work.
Brielle’s recently opened her own clothing boutique and works herself to the bone.
Our work ethic is one of the things we have in common and what connected us so quickly when the guys introduced us.
Being around someone with a like-minded point of view has saved me from one or fifty mental breakdowns over the years.
I want to spill everything I’m feeling to her right now, but knowing that she wouldn’t notice my messages until later has me shutting that idea down.
The moment I leave this bathroom, it’ll be with my feelings locked away and the key lost in the sewage pipes.
There won’t be any talking about them later.
My phone flashes with a call, and I let loose a rough, ragged laugh while I stare at the contact photo. The silence surrounding me becomes unbearable before I answer, bringing it up to my ear.
“It’s rude to call a woman when she’s in the washroom.”
“It would be worse if I’d stormed inside a women’s washroom while a thousand little kids are running around, wouldn’t it?” Finn rumbles.
I turn in the stall and face the door, inhaling slowly. “I just wasn’t feeling well for a minute.”
“Are you alone in there?”
“You can’t come in.”
“Come out, then.”
“I’ll be out in a few minutes. It’s rude to leave your date for a quick bathroom rendezvous,” I say lightly, pressing the corner of my thumbnail beneath my eye when it starts to burn again.
“What’s wrong?”
“Maybe I just got my period.”
“Did you?”
I pause, clenching my jaw when more pressure builds behind my eyes. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“And I’ll be waiting right here.”
It’s damn near impossible not to cry now.
I hang up before he can hear the laboured breath I suck in when my chest quakes.
It’s regret that slashes through me now.
The kind that has me wishing I’d never dragged him into this mess in the first place, because now that he is, it’s him that I’m comparing every man I’ve ever gone out with to.
He’s the person I’m going to go into every next date expecting.
His kindness, openness, and honesty. The way he looks into your eyes when he speaks and makes sure he hears every word you say before forming a reply that isn’t just slop, but serious and thoughtful.
It’s his soft, guiding touches when the floor is slippery and the guarding the bathroom door to wait while I collect myself because he knows that if he doesn’t, I’ll hide away in here until the place closes.
It’s unhealthy to put him beneath the light I should be shining on potential boyfriends.
We’re best friends, and that won’t ever change.
That’s all we’re supposed to be.