Chapter Nine
Finn
Finn had been nodding along to whatever Caleb was saying, but his attention kept drifting—pulled like a magnet toward Maurice.
It wasn’t even the big things that got to him.
It was the way Maurice listened to people, really listened, head tilted slightly, eyes steady and warm.
The way he rested his forearms on the table, sleeves pushed up just enough to show strong wrists and a faint dusting of hair.
The way he laughed—quiet, low, like he didn’t give that sound to just anyone.
Every time Maurice had leaned in toward Theo in the first round, Finn’s jealousy kicked in, or maybe it was a reminder of how badly he wanted to be the one Maurice leaned toward.
And God, the way Maurice had looked at him when their eyes had met across the room… Maurice hadn’t immediately looked away. He’d held it. Just long enough to make Finn know something real was going on between them.
So yeah. Finn wasn’t imagining anything.
When Mr. Santos called for a break and told everyone to “meet tons of people,” Finn almost snorted. He was meeting people. Just not the one he actually cared about.
Caleb handed him a token.
“Thank you.”
“I want to spend more time with you,” Caleb added.
“Maybe.” Finn gave him a polite smile, already halfway out of the conversation. His feet were pointed toward Maurice before his brain even caught up.
He didn’t get far.
A man in a three-piece suit stepped into his path and touched his shoulder as if they were old friends. “Hey, I was hoping we could connect.”
Finn slipped into that practiced smile he used when he wasn’t actually present. “I’m Finn Andersen from Boston.”
“Jacob Gates from Connecticut.”
“When and where do you want to connect?” Finn asked, even though his brain was screaming not now, not now, not now. Maurice was only a few tables away, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, watching Finn with that unreadable little half-smile.
“Tomorrow morning for breakfast in the Dining Car. Say around nine.”
“Okay.” Finn didn’t want to be rude, and Mr. Santos had said to keep an open mind. Too late. His mind had slammed shut the second Maurice rolled up his sleeves.
“I’ll be waiting for you in the morning.” Jacob handed him a gold token.
“Thanks.” Finn pocketed it, already scanning the room again.
Maurice was still watching him.
Not in a casual, oh-hey-we’re-in-the-same-room way. More like he was tracking Finn’s movements, quietly amused, like he knew exactly where Finn wanted to be. And that—more than anything Finn could admit out loud—was what made his pulse kick.
Maurice talked to his friend, David Finn had found out, and that warm, stupid jealousy flared again—soft, harmless, but impossible to ignore. Before anyone else could pull him into another conversation, he crossed the room fast enough that his bracelets clicked together.
Maurice noticed him halfway over and excused himself from David with a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. By the time Finn reached them, Maurice was already standing.
“I thought you’d never make it over here,” Maurice said, voice warm as he reached out and brushed his fingers along Finn’s forearm—light, as if he was checking Finn was really there.
Finn tried to play it cool, even though that tiny touch sent a spark up his arm. “I guess we’re here to socialize and people are socializing.”
Maurice’s smile tugged wider. “Yes, I see you’re very popular.” His hand stayed on Finn’s arm a beat longer than necessary, thumb grazing the edge of one of Finn’s bracelets.
“Popular with the wrong people,” Finn muttered.
Maurice’s expression softened, and he shifted closer, close enough that Finn could feel the warmth of him. “How would you like to leave after the next round so we can talk alone?”
His chest gave a sudden, stupid thump, as if his body was reacting before he could. “Mr. Santos said to meet tons of people, but I want to leave with you.” He couldn’t stop the grin; it just happened.
Maurice’s eyes dipped briefly to Finn’s mouth before returning to his eyes. “So is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s a yes, Daddy Maurice.”
Maurice stilled—not offended, not startled, just… intrigued. His hand slid from Finn’s arm down to his wrist, fingers curling loosely around it.
“Oh,” Maurice murmured, voice lower now. “So that’s how you’re talking to me.”
Finn swallowed. “If that’s okay.”
Maurice stepped in just a little more. “You don’t say things like that by accident.” His thumb traced the inside of Finn’s wrist, slow and thoughtful. “I enjoy hearing it from you. I just want to know you mean it.”
“I do,” Finn said, cheeks warm. “It felt right.”
Maurice’s smile turned slow and deliberate. “Then you can call me that again later. When we’re alone.” His fingers gave Finn’s wrist the gentlest squeeze, barely there, but enough to make Finn’s breath catch.
“Okay,” Finn whispered.
Maurice chuckled softly, eyes lingering on him like he was memorizing something. “Let’s finish our next round before I decide to steal you early.”
Finn didn’t move right away. Maurice didn’t either.
Their hands brushed again, and Maurice let his fingers trail along Finn’s knuckles before finally stepping back.
Mr. Santos walked up to the whiteboard and wrote numbers as if he were announcing lottery results.
The room buzzed—chairs scraping, bracelets clicking, boys whispering guesses about who they’d get stuck with.
Finn only cared about one thing: where Maurice was going.
His own number popped up next to Table Five.
Great. Not Maurice. But Maurice’s friend David was at Table Five. Which meant Finn would be sitting close enough to sneak glances without looking like a total creep.
He made his way over, weaving through bodies and pretending he wasn’t tracking Maurice across the room like a heat-seeking missile. David was already seated, smiling politely in that calm, observant way he had noticed earlier.
“Finn, right?” David said as Finn sat down.
“Yeah.” Finn tried to focus on him, not the tall, broad man at Table One who kept glancing over like he was checking on him. “Hi.”
David tapped the deck of question cards in the center. “Want to start?”
“Sure.” Finn pulled one, flipping it over. “Okay… ‘What’s something you’re proud of this year?’”
David laughed softly. “Starting with the deep ones, huh? I guess… taking more time off work. I’m terrible at that.” He nodded at Finn. “You?”
Finn opened his mouth—then caught Maurice leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes unmistakably on him. Finn’s pulse jumped.
“Uh—sorry, what was the question again?”
David followed Finn’s gaze, then smirked as if he understood everything instantly. “Something you’re proud of.”
“Oh, right?” Finn cleared his throat. “Um… I guess… trying new things. Like this.” He gestured vaguely at the room. “Speed-dating on a train. Very normal.”
David chuckled. “Want to pick the next one?”
Finn shuffled the deck of question cards mostly so he’d stop staring at Maurice like a lovesick idiot. He pulled one at random, but the words didn’t even register. His brain was too busy replaying the way Maurice had smiled at him a minute ago—slow, warm, like Finn was something worth lingering on.
He cleared his throat. “Uh… can I ask you something that’s not on my card?”
David leaned back in his chair, giving Finn a look that was half amusement, half he already knew where this was going. “I can probably guess who it’s about. Go ahead.”
Finn hesitated, then blurted, “Can you tell me about Maurice? You two are close, right?”
“Close enough,” David said with a shrug. “Ask something specific.”
Finn chewed his lip. “Is he… looking for something real? Or is he just here to have fun this week?”
David let out a low whistle. “Jumping straight into the deep end, huh?” He tapped the table with one finger. “Before I answer anything, I need to know where you are at.”
Finn blinked. “Me?”
“Yeah, you.” David smirked. “I’ve heard people calling you Rainbow Flirt.”
Finn groaned. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. So.” David raised an eyebrow. “Are you actually looking for a daddy, or are you just collecting admirers?”
“I thought I was the one asking questions.”
“You are,” David said, still annoyingly calm. “But I’m not giving you anything about Maurice unless I know you’re not about to play him.”
Finn sat up straighter. “I’m not. I’m done flirting. I want…” His voice dipped. “I want Maurice. I didn’t even know I needed someone like him until I saw him.”
David studied him for a long moment—long enough that Finn started sweating. Then David nodded once, as if he’d decided Finn wasn’t full of it.
“Okay,” he said. “Good to know.”
But he didn’t launch into some big explanation about Maurice’s intentions. He didn’t spill secrets or give Finn a neat little roadmap. Instead, he picked up a card and flicked it toward Finn.
“Your turn.”
Finn stared at him. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” David said, grinning. “If you want to know what Maurice wants, watch him. He’s not subtle.”
Finn frowned, confused until he glanced over at Table One. Maurice was watching him. Not casually. Not politely. Watching him like Finn was the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.
The second their eyes met, Maurice’s mouth curved into that slow, devastating smile. Then he looked away, pretending he hadn’t been staring.
Finn’s stomach did a full somersault.
David snorted. “See? You don’t need me to translate that.”
Finn tried to play it cool. Failed miserably. “I’m not—I mean—I’m just…”
“It’s fine,” David said, waving him off. “He’s been looking at you like that since the second you walked in.”
Finn’s face went hot. He grabbed another card just to hide behind it. “‘Describe your perfect first date.’”
David raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to ask me that one? You’re barely in this conversation.”
“I’m not distracted,” Finn lied, immediately glancing over again.
Maurice had shifted his elbow on the table, chin in his hand, eyes locked on Finn as if he were studying him, memorizing him.
Finn forgot how to breathe for a second, everything narrowing to that one moment.
David laughed. “You two are going to be impossible by the next round.”
Finn slumped in his chair with the card limp in his hand. “Maybe, if we stay,” he muttered, unable to stop smiling.
David nudged him with his foot under the table. “Or maybe you should go figure out what that look means.”
Finn said nothing, but he didn’t need to.
He already knew exactly what he wanted to do.