15. FINN #2
She looks softer than she does in public, and I feel it in my chest first, then lower, because apparently my body has excellent memory and no sense of timing.
Her eyes widen a little. “Finn.”
“Hey.”
“Hi.” She glances past me toward the street, then back. “Is everything okay? Did something happen at practice?”
“No. Nothing happened.”
Her brows pull in. “Then why are you standing on my porch looking like you’re about to deliver bad news?”
I shove my hands into the pockets of my jacket. “Because I’m trying not to be charming.”
That makes her pause. “Why?”
“Because charming is where you put me when you want to ignore the rest.”
Her expression changes, and the door opens a little wider. “What’s going on?”
I blow out a breath and hold her gaze. “I’m not here to ambush you. I just thought if I texted, you’d say you were busy.”
“I might have been busy.”
“You’re in fuzzy socks and holding a mug.”
“I could still be very busy.”
Despite herself, her mouth curves, and the part of me that’s been tight since practice eases a little. Then I remember why I’m here.
“I need five minutes,” I say. “To say something before I talk myself out of it.”
She studies me for a second, then steps back. “Fine. Five minutes.”
***
Her place looks like her. Clean without being cold. Cozy without being fussy. A blanket folded over the arm of the couch. Books stacked on the coffee table. A Ravens hoodie tossed over a chair.
Bailey closes the door behind me. “Do you want coffee?”
“No.”
She sets her own mug on the side table and waits for me to continue.
Okay.
Here we go.
I stand in the middle of her living room like a man who has faced down defensemen twice his size and still somehow finds this harder.
“I’m not good at this part,” I say.
“What part?”
“The part after.”
Her face stills.
I keep going before I lose the nerve.
“Usually, after is simple,” I say. “Everybody knows the deal. Nobody expects me to show up on a porch and ask for more.”
Bailey folds her arms, not defensive exactly, but close. “And yet, here you are.”
“Yeah.” I hold her gaze. “Here I am.”
I take one step closer, then stop because if I crowd her, she’ll focus on that instead of what I’m saying.
“This is different,” I say again, steadier this time. “You’re different.”
Her gaze flickers away.
I hate that her first instinct is still to put distance between herself and anything too sincere.
“I’m not saying that to make this heavier,” I add. “I’m saying it because you keep trying to make it lighter.”
Her eyes come back to mine. “I’m trying to be realistic.”
“No. You’re trying to file it somewhere safe.”
I can tell by the way her mouth presses together that I’ve gotten her attention.
“Maybe safe isn’t a bad thing,” she says.
“It’s not. But pretending doesn’t make something safe. It just makes it easier to avoid.”
She looks at me for a long second.
“You came here to tell me I’m avoiding?”
“I came here to tell you I’m done helping you do it.”
Her lips part, but no words come out.
My pulse is a mess.
“I’m not asking you for some big declaration,” I say. “I’m not asking you to know what this is. Hell, I don’t know what this is, and I’m the idiot who drove over here with no plan.”
“That’s obvious.”
That almost gets a smile out of me.
“But I know it wasn’t nothing,” I say. “And I know I don’t want to go back to pretending we’re just the same two people we were before San Francisco.”
I can see her throat move as she swallows.
She looks toward the couch, then the floor, then finally back to me. “What do you want, Finn?”
There’s the question. Straight to the chest, no warning shot. I should have a smoother answer ready, but I don’t.
I step closer, careful not to crowd her. Close enough that she knows I’m not running from the answer.
“Three dates.”
She blinks. “What?”
“Three real dates.”
Her eyebrows lift. “That’s what you came here to ask me?”
“Yes.”
“You want dates?”
“With you, ideally.”
Her expression goes flat. “Finn.”
“I know. Shocking.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“No, I’m being honest and very specific.”
“Why three?”
“Because one date is too easy to dismiss.”
Her face shifts again, like I’ve aimed too accurately.
“One date, you can write off. Two, you can blame on the weekend. But three?” I hold her gaze. “Three means you’ve actually given this a shot. If you still don’t want me after that, I’ll believe you.”
Bailey’s eyes narrow a little because she knows I’ve found the exact argument she can’t dismiss quickly.
“You sound very sure of yourself,” she says.
“I’m sure I want the chance.”
“And if I say yes, you’re going to prove what? That you’re not just fun?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m going to let you decide that for yourself.”
Her mouth softens, but she doesn’t give in.
“You’ve got this version of me in your head,” I say. “Fun, but not serious. Charming, but not safe. Good for a wedding weekend, bad for anything that requires follow-through.”
She looks away.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say. “Maybe three dates prove nothing except we’re good at making each other want things we shouldn’t. But maybe you’re wrong, and I think you know me well enough now to wonder about that.”
She doesn’t deny it.
That tells me enough.
I keep my voice steady. “I’m not asking you to change your mind tonight. I’m asking you to stop deciding before we even try.”
She doesn’t answer.
I take another breath. “If we go on three real dates and you still think this is nothing worth chasing, I’ll stop.”
Her eyes sharpen. “You’ll stop?”
“I’ll stop pushing.”
“You’re pushing now.”
I soften my voice. “Bailey, I’m asking for a chance to show you this wasn’t just a weekend.”
“Three dates,” she says.
“Three.”
“And if I say no?”
My chest tightens, but I keep my face steady.
“Then I’ll leave.”
Her eyes search mine. “Just like that?”
“No.” I huff out a quiet breath. “Not just like that. I’ll hate it. I’ll probably spend the drive home thinking of every argument I should’ve made. I’ll be terrible at practice tomorrow, which will make Ty unbearable.”
Her mouth twitches.
“But yeah,” I say. “I’ll leave.”
Her eyes stay on mine.
“I want you to say yes because you want to, not because I backed you into it.”
Bailey’s face softens before she can hide it.
“That’s your pitch?”
“It’s the short version.”
“What’s the long version?”
“That I like you.” My voice comes out rougher than I expect, but I let it. “And not just when you’re in a fancy dress. Not just when you’re looking at me like you’re trying to decide whether kissing me again would be a mistake.”
Her breath catches.
“I like you when you’re bossy,” I say. “I like you when you’re trying not to laugh at me. I like that you don’t let people get away with much. I like that you care more than you want everyone to know.”
Her eyes soften.
“So yeah,” I say, quieter now. “Three dates. Let me take you out and show you there might be something here worth pursuing.”
Bailey looks at me like she wants to find the flaw in the offer. The trick. The escape hatch.
There isn’t one.
Finally, she says, “Fine.”
My pulse kicks. “Fine?”
“Three dates.”
I don’t move for a second because I’m not stupid enough to celebrate too fast.
She lifts one finger. “But I get to say no after.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t get to act wounded if I do.”
“I will act extremely normal.”
“Finn.”
“I’ll try.”
Her mouth twitches. “Better.”
“And I pick the first date.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You just got three dates. Don’t push your luck.”
“I’m not pushing. I’m planning.”
“That sounds suspiciously like pushing.”
“Date one,” I say, backing toward the door before she can change her mind. “I’ll text you details.”
She crosses her arms again, but this time it doesn’t look like armor. It looks like she’s trying not to smile. “I’m agreeing because I want to prove myself right.”
I open the door, grin already forming. “That’s fine.”
Her eyes sharpen. “Why are you smiling?”
“Because I know something you don’t.”
“What?”
I step onto the porch. “You’re wrong.”
I close the door before she can throw anything at me.
Probably for the best.