Chapter Seven
Finn
Finn was still hovering near the bar, pretending to study the drink menu even though he’d already memorized it.
Really, he was stealing glances at the man in the suit—tall, sharp jaw, dark hair, the man who looked like he owned half the train and didn’t even need to brag about it.
Finn had been working up the courage to say hi.
Or at least smile. Or at least not stare.
He was just about to take a step toward him when someone tapped his shoulder.
Finn jumped a little. “Hi!” he said, spinning around.
Mr. Santos stood there, still in his crisp uniform, still looking like he ran the entire Pride Express with a clipboard and sheer willpower. “Can you help me with the setup for the Meet-a-Daddy Party?”
“Me? Sure, I can help.”
Of course he could help. He just… really wished the timing wasn’t right now. He shot one last look toward the man in the suit. The guy was laughing at something another passenger said.
Great. Perfect. Please don’t find someone else before I get back.
“Follow me then,” Mr. Santos said.
Finn forced a smile and followed him out of the bar area, feeling the disappointment trail behind him like a little cloud. He hoped the man didn’t even notice he’d left. Or maybe he hoped he did. He wasn’t sure.
They walked into a car labeled Party Car #1, and Finn squinted at the sudden brightness.
The overhead lights buzzed with a harsh, electric hum, making everything look a little too exposed.
The air carried a faint stale scent, like the car hadn’t been used all day, with a mix of dust, old upholstery, and the metallic tang of recycled train air.
Small round tables were stacked against the wall, their edges clinking softly every time the train hit a bump.
An entire army of folded chairs leaned in uneven rows, rattling against each other with each vibration of the tracks.
The floor still held faint scuff marks from whatever event had been here last, giving the whole place a backstage feel.
Finn took it all in with the brightness, the clutter, the low mechanical hum under his feet, and somehow it made the task ahead feel more real.
More grounded. Like he wasn’t just killing time or distracting himself from the man in the suit.
He was helping build something, setting the stage for a night that might matter.
“We’re going to make two circles of chairs,” Mr. Santos said. “One for the Daddies, and the other for the boys.”
“Sounds fun,” Finn said, stepping over a stack of chair legs. “What if there aren’t enough Daddies for the boys?”
“It usually works.” Mr. Santos gave him a knowing smile.
Finn wasn’t sure what that meant, but he nodded. “How many chairs should each circle have?”
“Ten chairs for each circle. If more come, we can add them later.”
Finn got to work, dragging chairs across the floor and forming two neat circles side by side. It reminded him of the time he helped set up for a school dance, except this time he wasn’t the kid hiding by the punch bowl. He was the one assisting to build the whole thing.
While he worked, Mr. Santos ordered pizza. The smell drifted into the room before the delivery guy even knocked—warm, cheesy, a little greasy in the best way. Finn’s stomach growled so loudly he winced. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the scent hit him.
“Take a break first and we’ll have some pizza,” Mr. Santos said, already opening the box like he’d been waiting for this moment. “I know you didn’t eat much today.”
There was something almost fatherly in the way he said it, not soft, exactly, but observant. The kind of tone people used when they noticed things Finn didn’t think anyone noticed.
“I had a bad day, but it’s getting better.” Finn slid into the chair across from him, grabbing a slice and letting the heat warm his hands. The first bite hit him with a wave of relief he hadn’t expected. Maybe he had been more stressed than he wanted to admit.
Mr. Santos nodded toward the end of the table, where stacks of color-coded cards sat in neat piles. “See these? You need to set up ten little tables with two chairs each. Then make sure each table has ten of each color. Blue, purple, pink, gold, and green.”
Finn took another bite, chewing slowly as he looked at the cards. “What do the colors mean?”
“The blue ones are warm-up questions, the purple are personality questions, pink are flirty questions, gold are Daddy/boy dynamic questions, and green are compatibility questions.”
Finn nodded, though his mind drifted for a second, not to the cards, but to the man in the suit. He wondered if the guy liked flirty questions or if he’d roll his eyes at them. He wondered if he’d even show up.
“How do we mix it up?” Finn asked, trying to sound focused.
“Every fifteen minutes they switch tables,” Mr. Santos explained. “Everyone will be issued a number and listen for their number and table to be called. Then the boy picks a card and reads the question to the Daddy. When he answers, he picks a card and asks the boy.”
Finn imagined the room full of people, laughter bouncing off the walls, chairs scraping as everyone rotated.
It actually sounded fun. Maybe even a little magical.
And maybe if the universe wasn’t completely heartless, the man in the suit would be there.
Maybe Finn would get lucky and end up across from him.
Once they finished eating, Finn helped Mr. Santos clean up. Then they set up the little tables, arranged the chairs, and Finn counted out all the cards while Mr. Santos double-checked the piles with the precision of someone who ran events like a military operation.
“Thanks, Finn,” Mr. Santos said when everything looked perfect.
“See you back here in thirty minutes.”
“I’ll be here.”
Finn smiled, but as he walked back toward the bar area, his heart beat a little faster.
Please still be there. Please don’t be talking to someone else.
He wasn’t sure if the universe listened to boys like him, but he hoped just this once it might.
Finn headed back toward the bar with a little bounce in his step, the kind that came from imagining the man in the suit still standing there, maybe even looking around like he’d noticed Finn was missing.
It was stupid; he knew that, but he let himself hope anyway.
But when he stepped into the bar area, the spot where the man had been was empty. Completely empty. No suit, no dark hair, no quiet confidence leaning against the counter. Just a couple of guys laughing over cocktails and someone ordering a rainbow margarita.
Finn slipped into that practiced smile he used when he wasn’t actually present.
Of course he’s gone. Why would he still be here waiting for you?
He tried not to let the thought sting too much. He lingered for a second, scanning the room as if maybe the man had just moved to another corner. Nothing. No trace of him. The bartender gave Finn a friendly nod, but that wasn’t what he wanted.
“Okay,” Finn muttered under his breath. “Fine. Whatever.”
He straightened his rainbow belt, took a breath, and decided he would not linger around the bar like a forgotten drink waiting for someone to notice it. He had a party to go to soon and maybe, if the universe wasn’t completely cruel, the man in the suit would show up there.
Finn headed down the hallway toward his room. The train hummed beneath his feet, the lights flickering softly along the corridor. When he reached his door, he slipped inside and let out a long exhale.
His room was small but cozy, with a mirror that always made him look a little flushed. He kicked off his boots and splashed water on his face. Then he studied his reflection.
“Freshen up,” he told himself. “Look cute. Look confident. Look like someone a man in a suit would want to talk to.”
He ran his fingers through his blond hair, adjusted his rainbow earrings, and smoothed his shirt.
The nerves in his stomach fluttered again, but this time it was more like excitement than disappointment.
If the man in the suit was meant to cross his path again, he would.
And if not, well, Finn would not show up to the Meet-a-Daddy Party looking anything less than adorable.
He grabbed his bracelets, tightened them on his wrist, and headed back out, ready for whatever the night threw at him.