Chapter Eighteen
Finn
Finn and Maurice found a quiet spot in the hallway, the train humming beneath their feet. Finn’s pulse was still a little wild from dinner, from the way Maurice kept looking at him like he was something worth holding onto.
“I’ll see you at the dance tonight. Remember to mingle,” Maurice said, brushing a thumb over Finn’s knuckles.
“It’s going to be difficult,” Finn admitted.
Maurice took Finn’s hand and placed it over his heart. “Finn, you’re inside here. Remember that.” His gaze grew tender. “Do you want to meet in my room after the dance?”
“Yes.”
Maurice didn’t hesitate. He pulled Finn closer and kissed him—slow and confident in a way that knocked Finn off balance.
The train hummed beneath them, steady and rhythmic, but the moment Maurice’s mouth met his, that rhythm slipped.
The floor seemed to tilt in a way that had nothing to do with the swaying of the car.
A warm rush swept through Finn, stealing his sense of direction, as if the whole train shifted just to make room for the kiss.
He curled a hand into Maurice’s shirt, not because he needed support, but because the world suddenly felt a little too unsteady without something solid to hold on to.
He went back to his cabin, where Theo was standing in front of the mirror, fixing his hair with intense concentration.
“Hey,” Theo said, catching Finn’s reflection. “Are you excited about the dance?”
“Yes and no,” Finn said, grabbing his toiletries. “Maurice wants me to mingle and dance.”
Theo laughed. “Maurice and David must have planned it together, because that’s exactly what David told me too.”
After Finn showered and changed into black jeans, a fitted shirt, and hair slightly messy on purpose, he and Theo headed to the Dance Car together.
The moment they stepped inside, Finn’s breath caught.
The Dance Car had been transformed. Colored lights swept across the ceiling, bouncing off mirrored panels, making the whole space shimmer.
A DJ booth sat at the far end, music thumping through the floorboards.
People were already dancing, laughing, spinning, and bumping shoulders as the train swayed beneath them.
The air smelled like citrus drinks, warm bodies, and something electric.
And right in the center of it all was Maurice.
Dancing with Billy. Billy, the rockstar with turquoise hair, glitter on his cheekbones, and the confidence that made people stare.
Maurice laughed at something Billy said, moving with him as if they’d been dancing together for years. He hated how good they looked together.
Finn and Theo walked over to the bar, flirted with the bartender, and ordered a drink. He leaned against the bar to watch everyone dancing.
A few feet away, David was dancing with Darren, both of them grinning as if they were having the time of their lives. Theo muttered something under his breath about “chaos energy,” but Finn barely heard him. His eyes were locked on Maurice.
He couldn’t help it. Billy was leaning in too close to Maurice, laughing at something Finn couldn’t hear. The sight twisted something sharp and unpleasant in Finn’s stomach. Hating every moment that Maurice seemed to enjoy himself.
Then Caleb appeared out of nowhere, stepping right into Finn’s line of sight and breaking the stare he’d been holding like a lifeline.
“Dance with me,” Caleb said, already reaching for Finn’s hand.
Finn didn’t even like Caleb, at least not most days, but the jealousy burning through him made the decision easy. “Fine,” he said, slipping his hand into Caleb’s.
Caleb grinned as if he’d won something.
They moved onto the dance floor, the lights flashing purple and blue across Caleb’s red hair. Caleb flirted shamelessly, leaning in, brushing their shoulders together, and whispering comments Finn pretended not to hear. Finn flirted back anyway, because apparently tonight he was a menace.
Caleb slid up beside Finn just as the song ended, breathless and grinning. “Let me get you a drink, Finn.”
Finn didn’t trust his voice, so he just nodded.
Caleb took his hand way too casually, too familiar, and tugged him toward the bar area tucked into the corner of the Dance Car.
The lights were dimmer there, the music a little muffled, the counter lined with bottles that rattled softly every time the train hit a curve.
Finn leaned against the bar, trying to steady the swirl of jealousy still simmering.
Caleb ordered for both of them, then handed Finn a drink. Their shoulders brushed. Finn didn’t move away.
They stood there for a moment, sipping, pretending to watch the crowd. Finn’s eyes kept drifting back to Maurice—now talking with Billy, turquoise hair glowing under the lights like a beacon Finn wished he could ignore.
Caleb followed his gaze. “Your friend Maurice told me he likes Billy and wants to get to know him more.”
Finn’s fingers tightened around his glass. “Really? He told you that?”
Caleb shrugged, taking a slow sip. “Well, they’re on their third dance. They’ve been together since before you got here.”
The words hit Finn like a cold splash. He didn’t know if Maurice had said anything to Caleb, but three dances? That part could be true. Billy looked comfortable. Too comfortable. And Maurice wasn’t exactly pulling away.
Finn swallowed hard and took another drink. Then another. The alcohol warmed his throat, but it did little for the knot forming in his stomach.
Caleb nudged him lightly. “Come on. One more dance?”
Finn didn’t want to give Caleb the satisfaction. But he also didn’t want to stand still long enough to think. So he nodded and let Caleb pull him back onto the dance floor.
They danced again with Caleb flirting, Finn flirting back, and both of them moving in a way that made the jealousy blur into something reckless.
When the song ended, Finn slipped away, only to be intercepted by Jacob, who asked him to dance with a smile that made Finn smile. And Finn said yes. Again.
He flirted with Jacob too by leaning in, laughing, letting himself be pulled into the rhythm. It was easier than thinking about Maurice and Billy. Easier than wondering what Maurice wanted.
By the time another song started, Finn had danced with a handful of people—Caleb, Jacob, two strangers whose names he didn’t catch. There wasn’t a single minute he stood alone.
But even while he moved, even while he played, even while he pretended he was fine… his eyes kept drifting back to Maurice. And every time, it hurt a little more.
Across the room, Theo was dancing with Gage, both of them laughing as if they were having the time of their lives. Finn caught Gage’s eye once—just once—and his smile went warm and interested.
When the song ended, Caleb squeezed Finn’s waist before letting go. “You’re fun when you’re annoyed,” he teased.
Finn rolled his eyes, but he didn’t deny it.
Jacob appeared almost immediately, stepping into Finn’s space with a calm confidence. “My turn again?” Jacob asked, offering his hand.
Finn didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
They started dancing, and Jacob leaned in close, voice low. “You look hot tonight.”
Finn smirked. “I know.”
A delighted laugh escaped Jacob, and a quick spark of pleasure lit through Finn in response. He let himself flirt—really flirt—because why not? Maurice was still having a conversation across the room with Billy, and Finn would not stand around looking pathetic.
Soon after, in the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Maurice and David now—off to the side, drinking and talking. Maurice wasn’t dancing anymore, but he wasn’t looking Finn’s way either. That stung more than Finn wanted to admit. So he kept moving. Kept dancing. Kept flirting.
One song bled into another, and Finn didn’t stand alone for even a minute. People kept pulling him in—mostly strangers who liked the way he moved. The Dance Car swayed with the train, lights flashing, music thumping through the floorboards, bodies brushing past him in every direction.
But no matter who he danced with, no matter who flirted with him… His eyes kept drifting back to Maurice.
And every time, it hurt just a little more. He wanted to leave the dance. And then, suddenly, Maurice looked up.
Their gazes collided across the dance floor.
Maurice’s entire expression shifted—brightening instantly, as if Finn had just walked in and flipped on a light inside him.
Billy, who had returned to Maurice, kept talking, oblivious, but Maurice wasn’t looking at him anymore.
Finn’s chest loosened, breath catching in a way he didn’t want to examine too closely.
Maurice stepped away from Billy, weaving through the crowd until he reached Finn. He said nothing at first—just held out a hand, palm open, eyes warm and sure. An invitation. A claim. A promise.
Finn didn’t hesitate. He slipped his hand into Maurice’s, heat shooting up his arm.
Maurice tugged him onto the dance floor, pulling him close enough that the bass thrummed through both their chests. Finn’s heart raced, nerves buzzing, but the second Maurice’s hands settled on his hips, everything inside him steadied.
He leaned in, flirting without even trying—smiling up at Maurice, brushing their shoulders together, letting the music guide him.
The jealousy had finally eased. The music blurred into a warm pulse around him. And for the first time all night, Finn let himself move—let himself want—let himself be wanted. The night was just getting started.
Maurice leaned in, breath brushing Finn’s ear. “This is not working,” he whispered.
The words didn’t land gently. They slammed into Finn like a sudden drop in altitude.
For a second, Finn didn’t understand. The music warped, stretching thin and metallic, like someone had turned the bass into a heartbeat he couldn’t keep up with. His breath hitched. His chest tightened so fast it almost hurt.
He blinked at Maurice, waiting for… something. A smile. A clarification. A joke. Anything.
But Maurice was still talking—saying something else, something Finn couldn’t hear over the roaring in his ears. The lights strobed too bright. The room tilted. Finn opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His throat locked up, words stuck somewhere behind the panic rising like a wave.
He tried again—just a breath, a half-formed “What?”—but the sound died before it reached the air.
All he could hear was it was not working.
Not working.
Not working.
His heart crashed. Finn stumbled back a step, then another, bumping into someone on the dance floor. Maurice reached out, maybe to steady him, maybe to explain, but Finn flinched away before he could think.
And then Finn ran.
He pushed through the crowd, through the flashing lights and the heat of bodies and the thrum of music that no longer sounded like music at all. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. His vision blurred, and the hallway outside the Dance Car was too bright, too cold, too empty.
He didn’t stop moving. Didn’t breathe properly. Didn’t let himself think. Because if he did, he’d have to face the possibility Maurice hadn’t meant the dance… He’d meant them.