18. Wicked
Finn
Iattempt to dry my sweating palms against my slacks discreetly, not wanting my surprise guest to see how nervous her presence is making me. Normally I would be overjoyed to see Courtney - especially after our rendezvous earlier - but her showing up immediately after ending my phone call with Milo feels like an omen. And not a good one.
I’d also be the first to admit that Courtney’s timid disposition has me feeling muddled. Don’t get me wrong, I rather liked knowing this more intimate and vulnerable side to her, but I’m stuck trying to figure out what had changed for her to act this way around me. The obvious answer is that any woman feels exposed around a man who had put his face between her thighs less than four hours ago but that just doesn’t seem like Courtney. I don’t pin her as a woman who would allow sex to crumble a shield she was so adamant to hide behind. There must have been some other change I’m not privy to.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” I admit, pocketing my flip phone. “A good kind of surprised, um.” That is also the truth. I loved seeing her even though she was the root of my moral turmoil. Get out of your head, I instruct myself. Closing my eyes, I give my head a slight shake, my attempt at dislodging my guilty thoughts. “How can I help?”
Courtney studies my expression for a prolonged moment, making me squirm in my own culpability. After a beat, she’s seemingly found whatever answer she was searching for and extends her firm leg, taking a step over my tossed paperwork and advancing a step closer to me. Her chocolate eyes are set on mine and they look.. hungry.
Just like they had moments before I made her climax.
I attempt to keep my resolve as I recall the memory but I can’t stop my gaze from wandering down to her full hips that sway ever so sassily as she approaches and God damn. How does she fill that dress so fucking well? I mentally scold myself for the objectification and cursing, in that order but how can I do any differently when Courtney Berrycloth is looking at me like that? If she is hungry, I’ll merrily volunteer to be breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
“Did I interrupt something?” She answers my question with one of her own, her voice sounding more like a low purr. With her this close to me, I can smell her fruity scent, the sweet aroma beckoning me closer. When was the last time I jacked off? I will need to add that into my schedule ASAP.
“No,” I say, adding another lie to my long list. I clear my throat, watching her every move like a hawk. “I was just wrapping up some…” My eyes drift to the town’s budget littered about the carpet. I chew on my bottom lip, searching for my next words.“Mayoral stuff.”
Courtney offers me one of her signature full-lipped smiles before she’s suddenly reminded of something. Her eyes lower to my chest as she wets her lips. Her voice teetering from that of a sultry dominatrix to a more timid variety, reminding me of the pitch a school girl’s voice takes when she’s confessing to her crush. Then she says the very last thing I expected her to.
“I wanted to apologize if talking about Mr. Sweatpants made you uncomfortable last night; it just felt good to rant. I came to Havenwood dejected and wounded from that relationship. I tried to shut myself out from romance entirely, but in doing so, I shut out parts of myself—parts that I actually really like. I also shut out people who I really like.”
She releases the last sentence slowly as her eyes find mine once again, a glimmer of vulnerability behind them. I can tell she is attempting to be open with me and explain her hot and cold behavior toward me, though she’s the last person who owes me an explanation or apology.
“Spending this time with you has made me realize that there are still good men out there without secret agendas.” She laughs softly, tucking another soft strand of brown behind her ear. The bile in my stomach is set ablaze by her misplaced trust in me but she continues before I can stop her. “I was hoping you’d give us a chance. If I haven’t scared you off entirely but our encounter this morning tells me I might still have a shot.” She giggles flirtatiously, the sound so beautifully alluring.
“Courtney, I..” My eyes dart around her face, looking for some easy way to tell her that I’m the opposite of what she’s looking for. I am the antithesis of a good guy who deserves her affection or a chance to be her man. I am literally the relationship Trojan horse in a button-up shirt!
Her face drops, most likely interpreting my silence as denial. I take a deep breath, choosing once again to be selfish and pretend I’m not the worst man on this planet.
“Of course. I would love nothing more than a chance with you,” her bright smile creeps back onto her face, sending my heart fluttering at the sight. “I promised to make a trip to the community gardens around noon tomorrow. I know dirt doesn’t make for a great second date but the gourds this year are supposed to be-.”
“I’m there.” She cuts off my painful rambling with a kiss on my cheek. The feeling of her warm lips pressed on my cheek, freezing me in my place.
“Could you stop by my place after you’re done with mayoral stuff? I have something I want to run down you- BY you! I have something I want to run BY you!” A light blush flushes her cheeks, making me chuckle. I slide my hands into my front pockets and lean against the edge of my desk, admiring the gorgeous woman before me. I need to tell her the truth but I also need to save Havenwood, both those things can’t be accomplished all while still being her dream guy. But that’s a problem for a different day today I’m the man Courtney wants and that’s enough for me.
“I’m there.”
Courtney
I lift the lid off my crock pot, steam immediately assaulting my face before it dissipates into the air around me, causing me to swat at it ridiculously. I’ve never been a great cook but putting meat and veggies in a crock pot is one of my more well-rehearsed dinners so I feel confident serving it to Finn. I poke at a piece of roast with my fork to test if it’s ready, sure enough, the meat practically falls apart at the prodding, signaling a well-done pot roast. I use a ladle to scoop some of the gravy and pour it over the meat and carrots, allowing its flavor to soak into the dish.
As I cover the pot once again, anxiety and anticipation dig their nasty claws into me. I’m excited to see Finn, but now, with my cards out on the table, I’m also extremely nervous. Our interaction earlier seemed off for a reason I can’t quite put my finger on but he had agreed to a formal date. So nothing can be that wrong, can it?
I switch the pot from SIMMER MODE to OFF and walk over to my newly purchased dining room table, one of my many new goodies. On the tabletop sat my notebook that I had spent the afternoon filling with Agnes’ local legends. Tomorrow, after visiting the community garden with Finn, I intend to bring the notebook to Milo to see if he can add a factual perspective to the stories written inside. It’s not that I don’t believe the factual and fantastical can’t exist simultaneously, I know they can. The witch trials that had run rampant through these parts are a great example of the two coexisting. The logical side will tell you innocent women were murdered and the more supernatural folks will claim those women practiced witchcraft. I believe both things to be true in unison, but it’s always interesting to see the overlap.
Almost as if summoned from my thoughts a haunting wail sounds from the impending darkness outside my open kitchen window, yanking me back to the current moment. I reach over quickly and slam the window closed with a shiver. I say a silent prayer for Finn to hurry up and get here as I pull my cardigan tighter around myself.
* * *
I just finish setting the table when my doorbell rings, alerting me to what I believe to be Finn’s arrival. I can’t fight the smile that battles its way onto my lips as I anticipate seeing him again. Our relationship had changed drastically over the span of one day from awkward acquaintances to hook-up buddies to giving our relationship an actual chance. Despite the inconsistencies in our relationship dynamic I’m really excited to see what this leg of our journey has to offer us, with a relationship like Finn and I’s I assume it’ll never be a clear-cut path but I’m eager to see where things go.
I run my hands down the front of my dress, smoothing out the defiant wrinkles that have formed. I had noticed the mayor watching my hips earlier today in his office, so I specifically changed into this dress due to its unbeatable ability to make my waist look snatched and my hips look curvy. I check myself over once more in the entryway mirror before I reach for the door handle, swinging the thick wooden door open eagerly. My enthusiasm quickly escapes me when I realize it’s not Finn at my door. It’s fucking Elvira.
Starr stares back at me with her arms folded across her chest, her wicked green eyes searing a hole into my own sockets. Needless to say, I am less than pleased to see Starr’s monochromatic ass on my doorstep.
“Sorry, the auditions for the new Tim Burton movie are that way.” I point in a random direction.
She scoffs, shifting her weight to one hip as she peruses my outfit. A look of disgust solidifies her opinion of it. “You’re meddling, Courtney and you need to leave Havenwood before you get yourself hurt.”
“Is that a threat?” I practically laugh in her face. Starr has about an inch on me but I’m more toned and not afraid to go for the hair.
“Not in the way you think.” There she goes again, saying ominous shit that she doesn’t bother to explain.
“I don’t have time for riddles. Get off my porch, Morticia.” Part of me wonders why she’s here or what she means by “there’s a lot I don’t know,” but I’m not going to jump through hoops to figure it out. Especially not when I have a super hot dinner guest due to drop in any minute. Starr being here when he arrives is the last thing I need. She raises a thin black eyebrow that is unnecessarily pointy on both ends.
“I know you can’t be that dense. Finn and I have a history, a very long, very deep history.” She smirks as if remembering good times that I don’t want to picture. The thought of Finn touching her makes me feel nauseous and even jealous but I’d rather get hit by the metro than let Starr see that.
“History is in the past for a reason, babe. People learn from their mistakes.” I offer her a look of faux sympathy. I didn’t pride myself on starting cat fights but I do pride myself on finishing them.
“A mistake is something that happens by accident. People try not to repeat mistakes. If I’m a mistake, then I’m a mistake Finn Abernathy has been making since junior year.”
I can feel my cheeks redden in anger as I consider the fact that she has been Finn’s booty call since high school, a fact I could’ve gone an eternity without knowing. Obviously, there was something he liked about her if he had continued to hook up with her for so long but I can’t pinpoint what it could be. Who’s to say it was even just hooking up, what if he actually had feelings for Starr? What if he still has feelings for her?
Insecure thoughts flash across my mind in less than a second but it’s already too late, I know Starr saw the way her comment had chipped away at my tough outer facade.
“You’re getting in the middle of something you don’t even know the half of. Finn and I are meant to be together and your big-city girl routine is not going to get in the way of that. There is so much you don’t know about and when you find out you’re going to wish you had listened to me and not messed with things that don’t belong to you.”
I narrow my eyes at her as she lowers her voice to a condescending tone, that sickening smirk only spreading on her annoying mouth as she speaks. I want to slap it off her smug face but decide neither the jail time nor the amount of white foundation on my hand after the fact would be worth it.
I decide I’m done being belittled and more than done with this conversation.
“Good night, Beatlejuice.” I attempt to slam the door shut in her face, reminding myself not to say her name three times in a row but Starr slams a hand against the door. I stare at her in surprise, my brows shrouding over my eyes at her audacity.
“Last chance, Hollywood.” She hisses through clenched teeth. I huff out a laugh in her face, taking a step into her.
“Get your fucking hand off my door,” I say darkly. A haunting wail echoes through the neighborhood as if to emphasize my point, causing Starr to look over her shoulder. When she turns back to me, a strand of her black hair is strewn across her face, adding to her look of disdain.
“You’ve been warned.” She looks me up and down before turning and making her exit down the sidewalk, the fading sound of her chained boots clanking in the distance. I’m never one for getting high, aside from doing so to help write scripts for kid’s shows, but some California weed would seriously help in this moment. I consider calling Micah but he might take a late-night phone call the wrong way and that isn’t a situation I want to explain to anyone.
What had Starr meant by there is so much you don’t know about? Like any old town, I’m sure Havenwood has its gossip and skeletons in its closet, but what could be so bad that it would scare me away from Finn, and why did Starr know about it? I attempt to compartmentalize my anxiety, wanting to enjoy the rest of my night without Starr’s mind games getting to me.
Not even ten minutes later, the doorbell rings once again, and this time it is Finn.
“Hey,” he greets calmly. I mentally pat myself on the back when I see Finn’s eyes trace down to my hips and back up to my face. I knew they looked amazing in this dress, and that is one thing Starr can’t take away from me!
“Hey,” I respond, attempting to mimic his cool and calm demeanor even though I’m screaming inside.
I notice the bouquet of peonies in his hand as I invite him inside and a grateful smile settles deep on my lips. A single thought solidifies in my mind as I stare up into the mayor’s inviting blue eyes: nothing Starr can do or say will turn me away from this man.