Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
FINN
Finn stared at the data charts glowing on his monitor.
This was the preferable option compared to what awaited him tonight.
He checked his watch. Thirty-seven minutes until Elena would drive them to her house.
Earlier in the week, Elena had approached him, voice casual in a way that immediately put him on alert.
"So," she'd said, perching on the edge of his desk, "the Neurological Foundation's annual gala is this Friday."
Finn had nodded, not looking up from his screen. "I saw the email. I've already added the data they requested to the quarterly report."
"It's not about the report." Elena had taken a sip of her coffee, "They want to meet us. Both of us. Apparently, word of our new protocol has reached the board. They want to meet the faces behind the new strategy.”
Finn felt his shoulders tense. "Both of us?"
"Yes, Finn. Both of us." She set her mug down on his desk. "You're as much a part of this project as I am.”
He didn’t want to go. He didn’t like networking. He didn’t like the small talk between people in suits that somehow influenced important decisions. But he didn’t really have a good excuse to say no.
"I don't have a tuxedo," he'd said weakly.
"A suit is fine," Elena had replied, already sensing victory. "A dark suit, white shirt, tie. You must have that."
He did have a suit, unfortunately.
"Finn." Elena's voice had softened. "I know these events seem pointless. But they're part of the job. They’re the part that ensures we can continue doing the work that matters."
He saw the determination in her eyes. He had to go. "Fine," he'd conceded. "But I'm not dancing."
Something flashed across her face. She regained composure quickly and said, "No dancing required. Just be yourself. Well, maybe twenty percent less blunt than usual."
Now, a week later, Finn found himself regretting that capitulation. He should have fought harder, should have found a compelling reason why his presence would be detrimental rather than beneficial.
The walk to her car was silent, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. Outside, the evening air was cool against his face, the sky already darkening into twilight. Elena's car, a sedan with a child's soccer sticker on the back window, was parked in her reserved spot.
"You can adjust your seat," she said as he folded his tall frame into the passenger side. Elena started the engine, the radio coming to life with fast-paced Latin music. She adjusted the volume down but didn't turn it off completely.
"You're nervous," she observed, glancing at him as she navigated out of the parking lot.
"What gave it away?" he asked sarcastically.
"You've checked your watch six times in the last two minutes," she said.
He hadn't realized she was watching him so closely. He let his hands fall to his lap, forcing them to be still.
"It's just a dinner, Finn," she said, her voice gentle, "A few hours of making nice with people who have the power to fund our research for the next five years. No big deal."
"Right. No pressure at all." He stared out the window, watching the university buildings give way to residential streets. "What if I say the wrong thing? What if they criticize our new protocol?"
"Then you'll be nice and suck up to them, with a smile of course.”
This was going to be terrible.
"Speaking of that. Is Paul going to be there?" Finn casually inquired.
“Oh, he’ll be there. Lurking. Staring. Waiting for the perfect moment to interrogate us about our data methodology.” Elena replied.
That almost made him smile. As they turned onto Elena’s street, Finn felt a new kind of nervousness taking over. He was about to enter Elena's personal space. Not just her car or her office, but her home.
"We're here," she said, pulling into a driveway beside a modest house with a front porch strung with lights.
"Miguel should be home from his study group. I'll just be a few minutes to change, then we can head to your place so you can get ready too."
Finn nodded, looking up at the house.
"Finn?" Elena's voice pulled him back. "Are you coming?"
He unbuckled his seatbelt, his mouth suddenly dry. "Yes. Of course."
The front door swung open before Elena could find her keys. Miguel stood in the entryway, headphones draped around his neck, eyeing them with a teenage suspicion that suggested they'd interrupted something important. "You're early," he said to his mother, then his gaze settled on Finn. "Hey."
"We're not early," Elena replied, moving past him into the house. "You lost track of time again. Remember I told you we'd be stopping by before the event?" She gestured Finn inside. "You remember Finn."
Miguel's expression was unreadable. "Yeah. The weird guy that somehow spends more time in the lab than you."
"That’s what they call me," Finn replied.
Elena smiled and disappeared down a hallway with a quick, "I'll just be a few minutes," leaving Finn alone with Miguel in the entryway.
The silence stretched between them, thick with mutual discomfort.
Finn finally caved. “May I sit?”
“You may.” Miguel gestured to what appeared to be the most uncomfortable chair in the living room.
"Thanks." Finn took a seat. A leg on one side must have given out, because the chair immediately tilted at an alarming angle, forcing him to grip the armrest to keep from sliding off entirely.
Miguel took a seat directly across from Finn and stared at him. Somehow, they always ended up in some sort of face-off. Avoiding Miguel’s stare, Finn took in the details of Elena's home.
It was messy and chaotic in a way that made it feel like a home. He looked at the pictures littering the living room. Elena and Miguel at various ages An old photo of Elena joined by an older man and woman. Her parents, he assumed. He noticed that he couldn’t find any pictures of Miguel’s father.
Finn tried to settle comfortably into the chair, but it was a fruitless effort. He felt oddly like an intruder. This was Elena's real life.
Miguel coughed, commanding Finn’s attention. Miguel was sitting in his chair confidently, hands propped together. Finn felt like he was on Shark Tank, sitting across from one of the sharks.
"So, what are your intentions?" Miguel inquired.
Finn swallowed. "Excuse me?"
"What do you want after this project is over?" he clarified.
Thank God. “Honestly, I don’t know yet. All of my mental energy has been going into this project,” Finn said.
Miguel seemed to relax a bit. “Yeah, seems that way with my mom too.”
Finn studied his face, remembering their first conversation and how badly he'd handled it. Finn shifted uncomfortably. "I apologize for the other day," he said finally. "I overstepped."
Miguel shrugged. "It's whatever. You were kinda right, anyway. I was being a dick."
The casual admission surprised Finn. "You had a right to be upset."
"Yeah, well." Miguel set his phone down. "Mom says you're really good at your job.”
Finn felt his face warm at the unexpected praise. "Your mom is an excellent scientist. I'm fortunate to work with her."
"Is that why you're staring at her stuff like you're trying to memorize it?" Miguel asked, the question more aggressive than his casual tone suggested.
Before Finn could formulate a response, Elena called from down the hall. "Miguel, did you eat the dinner I left for you?"
"Yes!" Miguel shouted back, then added in a quiet voice to Finn, "No, I ordered pizza."
Finn almost smiled. A silent understanding passed between them.
"I'll be right out," Elena called. "Just finishing up my makeup."
Finn checked his watch. They were still on schedule, but the anxiety continued to simmer. He wasn't used to waiting. In the lab, he could just keep working. Finn heard the soft click of heels on hardwood, and then Elena was there, stepping into the living room, and his anxiety took a back seat.
He didn’t see the normal Dr. Herrera standing there.
She wore a black dress that highlighted the curves he had tried not to notice before.
Her hair that was normally pulled back now fell stylishly around her face.
He had to make an effort to stop himself from staring.
When she saw him, her face flushed with anger. Was he being that obvious?
"Miguel," she said sharply, turning to find her son who had strategically disappeared. "Did you make our guest sit in the broken chair?"
Her eyes took on a maternal fury as she left to search for her son. Apparently, he had been hiding in his bedroom closet. And when they returned, Miguel was not there by choice.
Elena started, “I’m sorry about that. That chair broke a month ago, we haven’t had time to get it fixed.” Then there was an awkward silence. Elena nudged Miguel.
“I’m sorry I made you sit in the broken chair,” Miguel said in a completely ungenuine apology that appeared to take all of the strength in his twelve-year-old body.
The situation was awkward and Finn didn’t know how to respond so he just said, “It’s okay.”
“Well, we should probably get going,” Elena said, then adjusted her dress one more time. “Do I look okay?” she asked innocently.
Finn searched for the right words to say.
If he was being completely honest, he would have said that she looked fucking gorgeous.
But that didn’t feel like it would play very well, especially in front of her twelve-year-old son, who was very much still in the room.
He could have said that she looked beautiful.
No, that also felt like it was too much.
She looked good? That was general enough that it would surely please everyone in the room.
But it felt wholly insufficient for how Elena looked right now.
It was around this point that Finn realized he had spent the last thirty seconds simply staring at Elena without saying a word. He had to do something quickly.
He nodded.
The look on Elena’s face was unreadable.
“That was weird,” Miguel stated, eloquently summarizing the previous minute.