TWENTY
Before the Streamify contract
Finn
Sleeping with Maeve was not something I expected to happen. When I wake up next to her, I watch her in the morning light, which is streaming in because we fell asleep without closing the blinds. Her hair looks more red than brown right now, and I gently bury my face in it and inhale the smell of her perfume.
We said we loved each other last night. And this does feel like love. I’ve been drawn to her for years, I love so many things about her, I can’t imagine my life without her. But we’ve said those exact words a million times before, and I’m not sure what they even mean right now. Something we’ve talked about on Tell Me How You Really Feel is post-nut clarity, those moments after orgasm when you’re hit with a rush of realization that either you can’t get enough of this person, or you want them out of your bed. And I worry that Maeve and I may have been hit by opposite moments.
I feel great about last night—Maeve is the most gorgeous, kind, smart person. I have always thought about what it would be like to be with her like this. I just didn’t think a relationship was in the cards for us because I had slotted so solidly into the friend zone back in college. But while I was overjoyed, she seemed slightly distant after we had sex, and it has me in my head. I get up and head to the kitchen to make French toast and try to ignore the tightness in my heart while I desperately wait for Maeve to wake up and tell me this was the start of something.
When Maeve finally comes to the table, her eyes are alert, no post-passion haze in sight. My stomach drops.
“So … should we talk about it?”
I serve us each two slices of French toast and sprinkle blueberries over them. “The deal? Or last night?”
Maeve rolls her eyes and takes a bite of her food. “Guess that answers that.”
My stomach drops. I don’t want to ruin my chances with her because I didn’t speak carefully enough. “What? Maeve, come on. I’m really happy about last night, okay? Maybe we should try this. Us.” Please say yes.
Maeve takes a deep breath. “Is that really how you feel?”
“ Yes ,” I say emphatically. “I was surprised, but—”
“Me too,” Maeve interjects. “I don’t want you to think … I don’t know. It was a surprise is all. A good one, though.”
“Agreed,” I say carefully. I feel like I’m walking on thin ice right now. “It’s tough timing with the deal, though. If you want, we can keep things between us for now.”
Maeve was reaching for her coffee, but pauses, then puts her hand back in her lap. “I think that’s a good idea,” she says finally. “We don’t want anything to jeopardize the deal. Maybe we should take a break, go back to how things were, then try us for real in a month.”
“Is that what you want?” I ask. Even though I suggested it, I don’t love the sound of it. I don’t know why I said it; it just came out. But I want to do what she’s comfortable with.
“I think it’s the best thing to do,” Maeve says.
I nod in agreement. It makes sense, I guess. I can get behind it. “Okay, then. I’ll have to spend the next month planning an epic date, I guess.”
Maeve finally cracks a real smile. “I guess so.”
We both dive into our French toast and coffee with gusto now, and I feel better. I don’t know why I was so worried. Maeve isn’t like any other girl I’ve ever been with. I should’ve known she’d be chill and communicative about this.
We move forward with the deal with a handshake agreement, and our agents start negotiating the terms mercilessly. For two weeks I’m waiting for the moment that Maeve says she’s ready now. That we have the money locked down so maybe we don’t need to wait a full month. Every time we sit and watch TV, her leaning against my chest but not turning the rest of the way to kiss me, I wonder if I imagined how meaningful that night was.
But we agreed to put things on pause. So I don’t say anything. Even when a month comes and goes and I fall asleep every night wondering if I let her fall through my fingers and somehow got everything wrong. But Maeve is the more emotionally intelligent one, the one who always knows what to say, so I wait for her to say something.
Which is why now, even though I want to be trying this out for real with Maeve, I’m giving her a bit of space for the night while I meet up with Cassidy while she’s in town. She’s modeling in a campaign here, so dinner at Carbone it is.
I walk in, slightly late since I spent an extra ten minutes at home charging my phone up from one percent, lest I risk missing the call from Maeve saying the ink has dried on the contract and we can actually do this. Cassidy is already seated at a tiny table near the bar and sipping a glass of red wine, a second already set out for me. I make my way through to her, and she stands, kissing me once on each cheek as though we’re in Europe.
“I’m French now, don’t judge,” she admonishes when I raise my eyebrows at the greeting. “I ordered for us.”
“Spicy rigatoni, meatballs, veal?”
“But of course!” The restaurant didn’t open that long ago, but from the day it did our mothers have been obsessed with it and insist on going at least once each time they’re in New York. I think my mom would go every night if she could persuade my dad and me to join her.
The waiter comes by with their version of a bread basket, which involves three types of bread, a chunk of fresh parmesan that they hack off for your viewing pleasure, pickled cauliflower, and salami, and we dive in. I like the garlic toast as much as the food we order off the menu if I’m being honest.
“So, how’s modeling treating you?” I ask. Cassidy is, and always has been, completely stunning. Sometimes the children of famous people have a combination of too many arresting features and look slightly strange, but both Cassidy and I had the good fortune to take on a flattering combo of the features of each of our parents and leave the rest.
“Today was fun. But slightly boring, overall. Maybe I’ll go back to acting, since I can’t sing for shit.” Cassidy takes a huge bite of bread and cheese and practically moans in pleasure. “If I could sing and not sell my abs for a living, I would eat here every day.”
“You don’t need abs to be an amazing model. You’re gorgeous.” I flush, slightly, from the compliment and the half a glass of wine I just downed.
“You flatter me. But tell me about you! The deal hits the press tomorrow. Why aren’t you with your girlfriend?”
“Who said she’s my girlfriend?”
Cassidy arches one eyebrow. The waiter brings over our pasta, since we’ve made our way through the antipasto as though we were famished, and she takes a bite without missing a beat, eyebrow still cocked. “Spill. You know I won’t tell. No one here will.”
I look around us, knowing she’s right. Carbone inspires an exclusive crowd, and the few people who aren’t famous and just scored a reservation are seated on the outer periphery. They love being able to see all the celebrities at a glance, but they’re really seated there so they can’t hear us.
“We slept together. Then the next morning she wanted to put us on ice for a month.” I eat a huge mouthful of pasta to distract myself, and for a moment it works, because that spicy vodka sauce is heavenly. But when I finish chewing, Cassidy is still waiting for me to elaborate.
“For a month? That sounds like calling it off. How long has it been?” Cassidy’s tone is dripping with skepticism.
“Not necessarily.” Even I can hear how weak that sounds, now that I’m explaining the situation out loud. “Maybe though? I’m not sure. She really is that practical and chill. It was super bad timing with our deal, since us getting together would basically blow up the premise of the show Streamify just paid a fortune for. But it’s been more than a month already, and she still seems like she’s not interested in trying.”
“You could just see each other in private. There’s no reason to completely pause things like you did,” Cassidy remarks lightly. She reaches across the table and cuts a piece off of one of the meatballs, then pushes the remainder on the plate toward me.
“I know.” She’s right. But I’ve been successfully ignoring that aspect of the situation. I just wanted to do whatever made Maeve comfortable and gave me a real shot with her.
“You want to know what I think?”
Cassidy has always been brutally honest. Scathing at times, although usually right. And quick to be apologetic when she’s wrong. This is the first time I’ve confided in anyone about what’s happened between Maeve and me, and I’m desperate for advice. I’ve known Cassidy since we were in diapers. Even if what Cassidy says is harsh, I want to hear it from her view. “Yes,” I say, my throat tight.
“I’m sure she loves you. But if she was in love with you, she wouldn’t be doing this ‘let’s hit pause’ bullshit. She basically told you she wants out. Don’t blow up your show over sex when the whole point of the show is for you each to find your person. Which means, on some level, that ever since you made the show you’ve known it wasn’t each other.”
I don’t know that I agree. I’ve known Maeve was someone special to me since I met her; I just didn’t want to rush things if it wasn’t the right time yet. But maybe I just don’t want to agree. On some level her words ring true, like she’s vocalizing all of my fears in a few sentences. But before I can dive into it, Cassidy takes a deep breath and continues talking.
“But also, Finn … maybe it’s time. Try us out again for size. We’ve both dated everyone under the sun and slept with half the A-listers in town.”
“What!” I’m waiting for Cassidy to laugh, but she seems earnest. And maybe it’s this dim, romantic lighting, but the moment she says it I can’t help but think … what if .
“You were my first kiss. First love, in a nine-year-old way. I’ve heard your ‘one that got away’ episode, and now that I get asked about it every time I do press, I can’t stop thinking about it. And I think we should really try. If it doesn’t work between us, it’s okay, we know we can get through that no problem. I have a great hotel in the city the next few nights …” She trails off as she reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. Now I’m definitely blushing.
“I don’t know if it’s appropriate, given everything with Maeve …” I say quietly. It isn’t appropriate. But what I said isn’t no. And Cassidy and I both know it.
If the last month is any indication, it seems like Maeve might not want to be with me. It would be cleaner to stick to our original premise, especially as the fine print of the deal is getting negotiated. Maybe I should try things with Cassidy too. Maeve always advocates a roster and getting to know multiple people and trusting your gut. And right now, in my gut, I do want to see where things could go. Because while I love Maeve, I’ve also wondered what there could be between Cassidy and me since I was nine years old.
“You’re literally on pause, a break, whatever, that Maeve asked for,” Cassidy says softly. “It’s not doing anything wrong to try. This isn’t some one-night stand; it’s seeing if we’re each other’s second-chance romance. And, I mean, we’re all grown-ups here.”
I bite my lip. “I’ll be right back.”
I walk to the restroom, already pulling my cell phone out of my pocket and dialing Maeve.
“Finn? What’s up? I thought you were meeting Cassidy tonight.”
“I am! I’m there now.” I lean against the bathroom door, unsure what to say. “Maeve, do you actually want to be in a relationship with me? Or was that just something you said?”
“Why are you asking me this now?” Maeve whispers after a moment of silence. I don’t answer. “Is it because of Cassidy?”
“I want to know,” I say finally, which is true. “But it’s coming up now because of Cassidy, yeah. She was just telling me she wants to try again, she and I, but I told her you and I were something, but then I wasn’t sure, and—”
“You should try with Cassidy,” Maeve says immediately.
“Maeve. I really do want to try with you. I just also … I don’t know.”
I hear a sharp inhale on her end. Her voice sounds dull, almost robotic. “Waiting was just an excuse while I sorted things out. You should be with Cassidy. I know that’s what you want. It’s what’s right.”
“Are you sure?” I ask again.
“Definitely. Have a good night, Finn.” She ends the call faster than I realized and for a moment I’m just holding the phone to my ear in the silence waiting for her to say, Never mind. Come home. Fight for us. But she’s already gone.
I half know she’s just giving me an out. But I also half want it.
I walk back to the table and look across it at Cassidy. I’ve always thought I’d get another chance with her. That she might be the one for me. When I look into her eyes, I have a pang of nostalgia for that summer in Croatia. My first kiss. That cute little date. And before I can talk myself out of it, I lean in and kiss Cassidy.
On the way out the door at the end of the night, Cassidy squeezes my hand, just once, and I see the flash of a paparazzo’s camera. I groan and silently pledge to have my agent buy the photo. But we stay out until four in the morning before falling into bed at her hotel, and I forget the photo completely until I see us on the front page of the Hollywood Reporter .
My heart pounds when I see it. I wanted to try things out, not go tabloid official. As I listen to Cassidy singing horribly in the shower, my first instinct is to text Maeve. This is when we’d normally head to a diner to debrief, or record an episode at her place, where we dive into every detail of the night before. I could text her still. But I know in my gut that it wouldn’t be the right thing to do in this moment; it wouldn’t be fair to her or to Cassidy, and for the first time since I kissed Cassidy last night, I wonder if I’ve gone after love, or if I got scared and ran away from it.