Chapter Thirteen
Finn
The train slowed, the familiar shift in weight rolling through the floorboards before it eased to a full stop. Finn glanced toward the windows just as the conductor’s voice crackled faintly over the speakers.
“This is Indianapolis,” Jacob said, brushing a crumb from his sleeve. “The next stop is Chicago around six.”
Finn nodded, watching as a crowd gathered on the platform—men sprinkled with rainbow colors, some waving, some already taking selfies with the Pride Train behind them. A handful of them headed straight for the Welcome Car, excitement buzzing off them even from a distance.
Inside the Dining Car, the hushed clinking of cutlery and the gentle murmur of conversation created a sense of calm. The soft clatter of dishes mixed with the low murmur of sleepy conversations. It was the one place on the train where Finn felt like he could actually breathe.
He let his shoulders drop a little, soaking in the quiet. The rest of the train always felt like a party he wasn’t sure he’d been invited to. But here with Jacob across from him—extremely handsome and friendly—he could relax.
Finn tried not to stare at the way Jacob’s sleeves were rolled up, or how he smiled like he genuinely enjoyed being here with him.
“Tonight, there’s a mixer dance. Will you be going?” Jacob asked, stirring his tea with a kind of gentle precision Finn found weirdly charming.
Finn nodded. “I’m going to all the evening events.” He tried to sound casual, as if he wasn’t still figuring out how to be a person who went to mixers.
“I hope you save me a dance.”
Finn’s stomach did a small, traitorous flip. Jacob said it as if Finn was someone people lined up for. “Of course.”
But the thought lingered—popular. Jacob talked as if Finn were popular here. Maybe he was, in that fleeting, Pride-Train way. But how was he supposed to know who actually liked him and who just wanted a little fun before moving on?
A man dropped a flyer about card games later that day. Finn had no desire to play any more cards. He sucked at it, but Jacob picked it up, scanned it then put it down.
Jacob took a sip of tea, eyes glinting with mischief. “Someone told me a story about you. I’m not sure I believe them.”
Finn blinked. “Who told you a story about me?”
“Caleb.”
Of course it was Caleb. Finn lifted his coffee, bracing himself. “What did he say about me?”
Jacob leaned in a little, as if he were about to share a secret. “He said you were dancing naked on a table with gangsters watching. That true, or is Caleb just trying to make you sound dangerous?”
Finn nearly choked. “Not completely.” He set his cup down. “They didn’t have tickets and were kicked off, so I haven’t thought about it.”
Jacob’s brows pulled together—not in a clinical way, more like a guy trying to figure out how the person he liked had gotten into something ridiculous. “Okay, but… were those guys messing with you? You look like someone who shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of crap.”
“Not exactly.” Finn rubbed his thumb along the rim of his mug. “They asked me to play poker, didn’t mention it was strip poker. I was afraid to say no, but they cheated and I lost my clothes.”
Jacob winced, sympathetic but also a little amused. “That’s rough. And honestly? Sounds like a story people tell for years.”
Finn shrugged, but it wasn’t casual—it was tight, defensive. “There were more of them. Mr. Santos almost kicked me off the train.”
Jacob blinked. “Wait, seriously? For what?”
“Breaking a rule. No nudity in a public space.”
Jacob let out a soft laugh—not at Finn, but at the absurdity of the whole situation. “You really had a weird start, huh?” Then his expression softened. “Hey… for what it’s worth, you don’t have to say yes to people just because they’re louder or bigger or whatever. You deserve better than that.”
Finn stared at the tablecloth, the pattern blurring. He kept thinking about how easily things could’ve gone wrong. If his parents had asked Mr. Santos to keep him safe, maybe he would’ve been thrown out anyway. Except… his parents didn’t even know he was here. He hadn’t told them.
Jacob leaned forward. “Look, everybody gets dragged into weird situations sometimes. Especially on this train.” His smile curved, soft and a little flirty. “But you’re here, you’re okay, and you’re still somehow the brightest thing in this car.”
Finn straightened his rainbow belt, took a breath, and decided he’d accept the kind words.
Jacob went on, trying to figure out how someone like him existed.
“I mean it. You’ve got this… glow. Like you’re running on your own little power source.
Half the guys on this train look like they’re recovering from last night’s party, and you’re over here looking like the morning sun hitched a ride. ”
Finn’s face heated again, but it wasn’t embarrassment—it was that warm, fizzy feeling he kept getting around Jacob. “Thanks.”
And he meant it. Because Jacob didn’t say it like a line. He said it like he’d been watching Finn since he sat down, trying to understand the way Finn’s energy flickered between shy and hopeful and unsure—like a light that kept trying to shine even when it wasn’t sure it was allowed to.
Jacob didn’t look away from him, and that alone made Finn’s pulse pick up. Most people smiled, flirted, and moved on. Jacob watched him like he was trying to understand him, not enjoy the view.
Jacob tilted his head, studying him with that doctor-gentle focus that made Finn feel seen in a way that was almost too much. “You underestimate yourself.”
Finn felt heat crawl up his neck again. He wished he could stop blushing around Jacob, but his body had apparently decided that was its new hobby.
Jacob continued, “You have this energy. People gravitate toward you.”
Finn huffed a small laugh. “Or they want to drag me into card games with gangsters.”
“That too,” Jacob said, smiling. “But even then, you handled yourself. You’re resilient.”
Finn didn’t feel resilient. He felt like someone who kept stumbling into situations he wasn’t prepared for. But hearing Jacob say it, as if it were a fact, settled in his chest.
Jacob reached for his tea again. “I’m glad you’re here, Finn.”
The words hit him harder than he expected. Simple. Direct. No teasing. No agenda. Just… truth.
“Me too,” Finn said, and he meant it more than he meant most things.
Jacob’s smile deepened. “And I’m looking forward to that dance tonight.”
“I’ll save you the first one.”
Jacob’s eyebrows lifted, pleasantly surprised. “The first? I feel honored.”
“You should,” Finn said, trying for playful but sounding a little breathless.
A moment passed—comfortable, lingering. The train hummed beneath them, steady and warm, like it was carrying everyone’s secrets in its metal ribs.
Outside, the world blurred into streaks of color, and for the first time all morning, Finn realized he wasn’t nervous.
Not with Jacob watching him like that, eyes soft and curious, like Finn was something worth paying attention to.
Jacob set his cup down. “Would you like to walk with me after our breakfast? I can show you around. It’s beautiful in the morning.”
Finn’s stomach tightened. Not in a bad way—just in that oh no, I have to say something real way. He twisted his napkin between his fingers. “I can’t because I’m going to meet Maurice.”
The second the name left his mouth, Finn wished he could grab it back.
He felt exposed in a whole different way like he’d just admitted to cheating on a test he didn’t even know he was taking.
He didn’t know how to juggle two men being interested in him.
He barely knew how to handle one. And saying Maurice’s name out loud made it feel like he was doing something wrong, even though he wasn’t.
Jacob nodded, easy and unbothered. “I’m sorry. I forgot all about Maurice.” His tone wasn’t jealous or cold, just matter-of-fact, like he understood more than Finn wanted him to. “We’ll catch up tonight then.”
Finn swallowed, the napkin now a wrinkled mess in his hands. He wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or guilty or both. The Pride Train was supposed to be about freedom and possibility, but right now it felt like he was standing between two open doors, unsure which one he was allowed to walk through.
He said it lightly, but there was something underneath it—something that made Finn’s chest tighten. Like Jacob wasn’t upset, but he’d noticed the hesitation. The way Finn’s voice had gone small. The way Finn couldn’t quite meet his eyes.
They stood, gathering their things. Jacob gave him a smile—gentle, steady, the kind that made Finn feel seen in a way that was almost too much. “Have a good morning, Finn.”
“You too,” Finn managed.
Jacob walked toward the next car, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed. Finn watched him go, feeling like he’d missed a step.
As soon as Jacob disappeared, Finn’s brain kicked into overdrive.
Why did I say it like that? Did it sound weird? Did he think I was brushing him off? Was he disappointed? Was he relieved? Was he—
The train rattled beneath him, and Finn stood there in the aisle, clutching his napkin like it could anchor him.
He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He knew that.
But still, something about the way Jacob had said, “We’ll catch up tonight,” kept replaying in his head—soft, patient, like Jacob was giving him space he didn’t know how to fill.
Finn exhaled, trying to shake it off, but the warmth of Jacob’s smile lingered, stubborn as sunlight.
And now he had to go meet Maurice with his heart still buzzing from someone else.