Chapter Six Shelby #2
I dress like regular me, not Shelby the Influencer, in jeans and a plain T-shirt, my hair in a ponytail, and no makeup other than some lip balm and a moisturizer with sunscreen.
I like how I look without makeup, but with the cosmetic company sponsorships and the popularity of get-ready-with-me videos, I usually have a whole beauty regime to follow.
It’s so nice to not deal with that today.
When we get to the diner, Fran throws menus at a corner table in the back of the dining room, and we sit there. I have my back to the room, so I’m not easily seen. Finn faces the door.
“Do I need to read the menu?” I ask.
“How do you feel about sharing food?” Finn taps his fingers on the blue-and-white-checked plastic tablecloth.
“Um...okay?” It’s nothing I ever thought about.
Nodding, he leans across the table. “You want the cinnamon pancakes?”
I raise an eyebrow and smirk. Do I want cinnamon pancakes? Duh.
He laughs. “So do I. But they have a corned beef and Swiss omelet on special that I love, too. They almost never have it, and I don’t want to miss it.” He whispers like it’s a state secret.
My eyes widen. “Ooh, that sounds good.”
He nods like a seagull gorging on a large order of fries dropped in a fast-food parking lot.
“Doesn’t it? So you get the pancakes, I get the omelet, and we share. Because you need some kind of protein with those pancakes, or you’ll have the worst carb crash ever.”
We order and talk about where we grew up—Oregon for him, outside of Philadelphia for me.
How I got started with the influencer stuff as a marketing major in college.
My earliest videos were part of projects for school, but they got noticed and went from there.
We don’t talk about the show, even though I kinda want to know his perspective on things.
Our waitress, Mimi, plops our plates down with a thud and tosses two bundles of utensils after them. I say thanks to her retreating back.
“I guess we would be pushing our luck to ask for extra plates?”
Finn snorts a laugh. “You may be that brave, but I’m not.”
“Miriam!” Bert barks from the kitchen.
Mimi stomps over to the pickup window. “Mimi, Grandpa! My name is Mimi!”
“Your name is about to be unemployed. Takes these plates over to Finn.”
With a huff, Mimi/Miriam picks up the empty plates and slams them on our table with a glare. “I’m going on break!”
Finn gives a chin lift to Bert who stares back with narrowed eyes before returning to work.
“Told you they love me,” Finn says. “They’re badger shifters.”
I guess that explains it all. Glancing up, I see Finn watching me with a strange expression. My stomach sinks.
“What?” I ask with trepidation. This is it. It’s all going to fall apart, and I won’t even get to eat these glorious pancakes.
“The coast is clear. If you want to take a picture before you eat the best breakfast you’ve ever had, you need to do it now.”
My heart goes gooier than the cinnamon spread on my pancakes at his words.
Yesterday he didn’t seem to understand my picture-taking impulse at all.
Today, he’s enabling it. I hold back a grin and snap a couple of pictures of our platters.
The portions are huge, so I take Finn’s advice and put a quarter of my pancakes on each of the empty plates and he does the same with his omelet, leaving half of each to pack up and take home.
“Oh, my goodness. I think that was the best meal I ever had,” I moan after swallowing my last bite.
“Incredible, isn’t it? Worth putting up with a bit of attitude. Be right back.”
I watch his glorious ass walk to the counter where Fran is standing.
I can see her “hmmph” by the rise and fall of her shoulders even though I can’t hear it.
She’s glaring as she throws two to-go containers on the counter and stalks to the register.
With the way this family throws stuff, I see why the cups are plastic, and the plates are some sort of melamine that doesn’t shatter.
If they used glass and ceramic, their breakage costs would be astronomical.
Finn brings the containers back and slides into his seat as he slips the remainder of his omelet into a container while I do the same with my pancakes.
I insist on leaving Mimi’s tip since he paid our bill.
He waves to Bert and wishes Fran a good day as we leave.
My smiles are met with stony-eyed glares. I feel accepted.
“Still good to hike at the refuge, or do you want to do something else?” Finn asks as he climbs behind the wheel of his truck.
“I’d love to hike. It’s been years since I’ve done it.
” I lean against the door so I can face him.
He’s so handsome. I thought that from the moment I met him on camera, but spending time with him the past day and getting to know him better has only made him more attractive.
Reality-show Finn wore suits or designer casual outfits with perfectly styled hair.
He always smelled of an expensive woodsy aftershave.
It was nice. But fake. The Finn I’m with now is in worn jeans and soft cotton T-shirts.
There’s a cowlick that stubbornly refuses to submit.
He still smells of pine and cedar and a touch of saltwater, but it’s natural from what he does for a living and where he lives.
It’s real. I think this is the real him and not a younger man trying to impress a bunch of women, trying to prove he’s worthy of being loved for who he is.
I thought I loved the Finn I met back then.
Younger Shelby and younger Finn would have had a blast together.
But now I know I love the Finn of today, who was humiliated and had his heart bruised on national TV but remains naturally kind and gentle.
And the Shelby that’s gone through some things the past couple of years—hell, the past twenty-four hours—doesn’t care that people would think it’s too sudden or that it can’t be real.
We drive along the coastal part of the refuge, laughing at the seagulls dropping shells on the dirt and gravel drive to break them open so they can eat the tender meat inside. As we transition to the upland portion of the refuge, Finn pulls into a dirt parking area.
“Dude.” I gasp. “This is my favorite trail.”
A grin splits his face. “Really? Mine too!”