24. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
Lorelei
Well, this is embarrassing.
Probably my top most-embarrassing moment ever. Stripping in front of my sister doesn’t even compare to this. Because she’s my sister. I probably have some embarrassing moments as a child that I’ve deliberately chosen to forget about, but in my adult, functioning life… this is the most embarrassing.
It’s a little past ten, the storm has passed, and only a light drizzle remains. Finley still has his arms around me as we lay on top of his sleeping bag, but judging by the light snores and the loosened grip, he’s fast asleep. Slowly, I wiggle out of his arms; the heat of his touch is overwhelming now that I’m in my right mind. He groans, but turns to the other side of the tent. I stand, tiptoe over to my backpack, shove my own sleeping bag and pillow underneath my arm, and quietly unzip the tent. I poke my head out, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness. When my vision comes to, thanks to the battery-powered lamp Finley has hanging in his tent, I gasp at the gruesome sight of my beloved tent lying in a pile of shambles.
“Lorelei?” I snap my attention to Finley, who is in the process of sitting up and rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. A shiver ripples down my spine, and I curl my toes at the energy zinging through me as he says my name again in that husky, tired voice.
So that’s why Lucy “screams, cries, and throws up” (her words, not mine) over a man’s sleepy voice.
I think I get it now.
“Hm?” is my only intelligible response.
“Everything okay?” He’s fully sitting up now, his hair a golden mop of waves sticking up in different directions.
“My–uh… My tent is demolished.”
His lips tilt upward for a fraction of second before he schools his expression into a slight frown. “Guess you’re stuck with me tonight.”
I blink, trying to remember if I’ve heard him correctly. “Sleep in here? With you?”
He nods emphatically like it’s the most obvious solution. Which it is, but still. “I don’t even sleep in the same room with my sister. Ever. I like to be alone when I sleep. With shut doors. And dark rooms. And cocoon blankets.”
“The tent will be zipped, I can turn off the lantern, and you are free to cocoon. You can even cocoon against me if you’d like.”
I toss him a “watch yourself” glare before glancing out of the opened tent towards the remnants of mine and then back to Finley, whose lackadaisical expression should concern me because the man is anything but unenthused and uncareful.
“You’re not going to take advantage of me, right? Since you wish to date me and marry me and such?” I'm amazed at how I don’t actually believe this man in front of me is capable of such things. Finley snorts, then crawls like a predator until he’s at my feet, his body rubbing against my calves as he reaches around me and zips the tent. I'm frozen in place as he stands in front of me, my gaze following his smirking face as he rises, his head remaining bent because he’s a little too tall for the tent. Which means that I should really angle my face down so that I’m not losing all train of thought into darkened blue eyes and minty breath…
But then he speaks, a twinge of huskiness still present in his voice. “I would never take advantage of you, Leilei. Though I can’t deny the fact that you sleeping in this tent with me awakens the urge to…” he swallows, and I mimic the action, afraid of his next words as he grins, “cuddle you.”
Despite myself, I laugh, then I slap my hand over my mouth because I didn’t mean to laugh. Finley, however, doesn’t look to be offended. His grin grows wider as he takes a couple steps backwards from me. “But if you do not want to cuddle, then I will respect your wishes.”
“I don’t think I would be able to sleep if I were cuddling with you, Finley. Don’t take this the wrong way, but touching you is like touching the sun.”
“I’m that hot? Way to feed my ego, Leilei.”
I glare at him once more. “I said not to take it the wrong way.”
He shrugs, wearing a saucy grin. “You calmed down well enough when you were in my arms earlier.”
Seems the Prince of Hearts has come out to play. My face heats, my heart reacting to the fresh memories. “I was scared. That’s all.”
Finley lowers himself to a crisscrossed seated position. “Do you want to tell me about what triggered it?”
“It’s,” I inhale and release, the heat deepening in my skin, “stupid. Really.”
“Stupid or not, you can talk to me.” He pats the area beside him. It’s then I remember we are still in our gross hiking clothes. Once the storm started, I was too worked up to change, and he was too busy holding me like my life depended on it. My skin starts to crawl at the feeling of grime and sweat and dirt.
“Can we change first? And then I promise to tell you. As long as you promise not to judge me too hard or make fun of me.”
He holds out his pinky, and I meet him halfway, wrapping mine with his, laughing.
“Promise,” he says. “I’ll go to the corner of the tent over there while you change. I also pinky-promise not to look.” He releases my pinky and crawls to the corner, covering his eyes and proudly stating, “Ready.”
I chuckle and shake my head at his light, childish behavior. It’s endearing, really. He says the things and does the things I’d be too afraid to do out of fear of looking ridiculous. And maybe I would look ridiculous if I did, but he surely doesn’t.
I dig in my bag until I find the… old sweatpants and holey t-shirt that I brought. Because I was supposed to be in my own tent. Alone.
I don’t like people seeing me not put together, but then again, he just held me as I rocked and sobbed over the intense thundering in my brain. He’s also seen me wear this back at the house when he picked up Lucy for their first real date. It’s just Finley. I’m not trying to impress him. In fact, I am trying to turn him off from me.
Perfect.
With renewed hope that maybe my lack of proper dress will be the nail in the coffin for his feelings, I peel my clothes off, blushing when I’m stripped of my undergarments. I know I wouldn’t be able to even attempt to sleep if my thoughts were ruminating on dirty undergarments. I use a wet wipe to brush off the grime, and then I slip into fresh panties and a white sports bra before shrugging on the gray sweatpants and holy white t-shirt. “Ready.”
Finley drops his hands and scooches around. He lets out a low whistle as he looks me up and down. “You dress down nicely, Leilei.”
“Oh, shut up,” I snark, and then quickly begin to apologize for using harsh words.
He stands and takes a few strides towards me. “You do not have to apologize. You had a touch of joking in your voice and I’m aware it was not from malice.”
I sigh. “How can you tell those cues so easily?”
“Just the way my brain works. Trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Now, I’m going to change, so you can go sit in the corner like I did or you can watch.” He winks, and I sprint to the corner of the tent, mildly stumbling over my backpack. Behind me, he laughs. After a moment, he asks, “Do you want to tell me what happened now?”
I bite my lip as my shoulders droop. At the very least, if he wasn’t offended by my clothes, this should be the glaring red light that tells him to stop pursuing me. If this doesn’t turn him away, then I really don’t know what will.
After a dramatic exhale, I begin. “You already know I’m autistic, Finley. It’s not something I necessarily go around thinking about, much less talking about. To me, that term is just a term to describe how I think and process and feel. You know touch obviously gets to me but so do random loud noises. It’s more than just getting a scare. It throws my brain into a panic that I can’t escape from, and even after the sound disappears in reality, it is still loud and present in my head. Sounding over and over again.”
There’s rustling somewhere behind me and then the zip of a bag. “How does it make you feel when you encounter the triggering of something?”
“With noises, it makes me want to tune out to everything. It’s loud, echoes around in my brain like a ping-pong ball. I can’t escape it until I calm down. With touch, it’s like my skin crawls. Well, depending on the type. I can't wear certain fabrics, like wool. My brain would explode if I had to experience that scratchy sensation for any length of time. When people touch me, I flinch away because all I can think about is their skin on mine. I’m accustomed to certain people, like my sister, parents, and Hadley. Your touch makes me uncomfortable in the sense that it doesn’t make me uncomfortable…”
“Why do you think that is?” he prompts.
“I—I don’t really know. It doesn’t make sense to me. It’s almost as if your touch is familiar. Safe. It calms me. Even if the sensation is like touching the sun.”
After a beat, he places his hands slowly on my shoulders and begins to rub the knots developed from today’s hike. “Is this okay?”
Tension melts away as he hits all the right spots, and I groan. “See. I shouldn’t like this. I usually don’t. But with you… it feels okay. Hot, but okay.”
His hands tighten on my shoulders before he pulls back, clearing his throat. “Are you ready for bed?”
I slowly stand and move around his stiffened frame towards my sleeping bag. His back is still towards me, in his black joggers and black t-shirt, even after I’ve prepared my sleeping space, three body lengths away from his.
This is it. He’s recognized that I’m not good for him.
Why does it feel like my heart is crying?
The silence is unnerving.
I slide into my sleeping bag and stare at the dimly lit red tint of the tent. After a minute, Finley clicks the light off, and then I hear him slipping into his sleeping bag.
“You no longer wish to date me, right?” I finally ask, my brain demanding clarity to the silence.
Finley doesn’t answer for a moment, but then he exhales. “I completely want you, Lorelei. That’s the problem. I want you more and more with every new thing I discover about you. But I worry you may always try to push me away because of your fears that you are not capable of being loved.”
“It’s not that I don’t feel capable of being loved, Finley.” I think? “It’s more like I fear leaving my safety. And I fear the intense feelings that Lucy always describes and feels. I fear that what I feel for you is only the beginning.”
“You—you feel something for me?” His voice is laced with a bit of awe and wonder. “Truly?”
I swallow, wishing for once truth didn’t roll off my tongue. “Yes. My heart rate picks up when I’m around you. Your touch brings me comfort. You make me laugh and smile. You’re intelligent, kind, and thoughtful. I’m concerned about your dating history, and I am concerned about leaving Juniper Grove and my family and my friends. I’m concerned about moving to a new country. I’m fearful of leading said country. But ultimately, Finley…Yes. I like you. But I don’t know if that’s enough.”
Silence wraps around us for minutes before he whispers on exhale, “That’s enough for me. Stretch your hand out towards me, please.”
I hesitate for a second but then oblige. I feel around for a moment before my fingers graze his hand. He latches on, holding my fingers because my hand doesn’t quite reach his. Then he must move closer because his fingers thread through mine. The darkness surrounds us, and all of my senses are tuned into the way his hand feels in mine: warm, safe, strong.
“I don’t understand this attraction and feeling, Finley. It usually takes years for me to open up to people. To be comfortable with them touching me.”
He laughs without mirth. “Me either, Leilei. I was instantly drawn to you, and it’s only gotten worse. You. Not your sister. Almost as if God has already ordained this.”
Fate? Is that what he’s speaking of? We were meant to be together? “Do you believe in soulmates? To be honest, I never have. I believe love is a choice. You can choose to love anyone, right?”
His thumb rubs circles on the back of my hand. “I agree. Love is a choice. And yes, you can choose to love anyone. But don’t you think some people are a little bit easier to love?”
“Yeah, you’re right.” I smile in the darkness, thinking that if my parents had chosen to love anyone else, the world would have missed out on an epic love story. “I think my parents were ordained by God to be together. I’ve never seen a love as pure as theirs.”
“And what if you could experience that love yourself, Lorelei? What would you do for it?”
His question jolts me. What would I do for it? Would I move for it? Would I gain a title for it? Is that sort of happiness attainable for me?
“I guess if I had that sort of love, I’d do just about anything to keep it.”
“Me too. And Lorelei, I think we could have that. I’m sorry if it’s too forward and not something you wish to entertain right now, but in the name of honesty, I’m falling in love with you.”
His hand gives mine a gentle squeeze as his words toss around inside my head. He’s falling in love with me. Finley Andersson is falling in love with me. Lorelei Raine Spence.
Goodness gracious.
I think I might be falling in like with him. Maybe not love quite yet, but it’d be stupid of me to not admit that I like him. A lot. And what if I can overcome my fears in the span of a couple of months and uproot my life?
Fear trembles in my chest at the thought, and I recognize that it would be no easy feat to erase it that quickly.
But I… want to?
Yes. That thought is clear and loud.
I want to try.
“Finley, I—”
“You don’t have to respond, Lorelei. I don’t expect that from you. Take the time you need to process.”
“Finley… Yes. I want to try this dating thing. With you. I can’t promise that I will be ready to commit to the level you need from me in the matter of a couple of months, but I am willing to try. Is that… okay?”
To my surprise, he laughs. Loud. Though not loud enough to trigger a mental meltdown from me. But still.
“Prisaa Guud!” He winds down, a few lingering chuckles escaping. “Thank you. Yes, that’s all I can hope and ask for. I have tears in my eyes. Sorry. That probably wasn’t manly of me to admit.”
I squeeze his hand. “I think that’s plenty manly. You’ll cry enough for the both of us.” I laugh, hoping he catches that I was joking. He does, and he laughs with me. We talk more about the way my brain functions, the way his operates, and then he tells me about his love of antique cars and how he enjoys fixing them up before we quiet down and begin to drift in and out of sleep, his fingers still grasping mine as if it’s his lifeline.
Or maybe I’m grasping onto him for dear life.