Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
FINN
The dive bar Laura chose was dimly lit and smelled like spilled beer. As they walked in, a few of the regulars sized them up. Finn felt out of place in his lab clothes.
"Isn't it perfect?" Laura beamed, spreading her arms in blissful ignorance. "Best nachos in the city, and the bartender doesn't water down the drinks."
Elena shot Finn an apologetic glance that sent an unexpected warmth through his chest. "One drink," Elena reminded Laura, who was already scanning the room for a table.
"Absolutely! One drink is our max, okay guys?" Laura agreed, spotting an empty booth in the corner and making a beeline for it. "Ooh, that one's perfect."
Finn followed them. Elena walked just ahead of him, the familiar scent of her shampoo drifting back when she turned her head.
"Here we are!" Laura declared, sliding into one side of the booth. She patted the vinyl seat across from her. "You two sit there so I can see both of you. I need freedom for my hand gestures when I talk."
Elena hesitated, clearly seeing through Laura's transparent maneuvering. "Laura—"
"What? It's a conversational necessity. My stories require space." Laura wiggled her fingers demonstratively. "Plus, Finn is too tall to be trapped against the wall. His legs need room."
Finn opened his mouth to protest that his legs were fine, thank you very much, but Elena was already sliding into the booth with a resigned sigh.
He had no choice but to follow. The booth wasn't tiny, but it was small enough that his thigh pressed against Elena's.
The subtle contact sent heat through his entire body.
"Perfect!" Laura clapped her hands together, clearly delighted with her orchestration. "Now, what's everyone drinking? First round's on me."
"Beer is fine," Finn said, trying to sound casual while aware of every millimeter where his body touched Elena's.
"No, no, no. We're not doing 'fine' tonight," Laura insisted. "We're doing shots. Celebratory 'we survived a week of impossible deadlines' shots."
Elena groaned. "Laura, we have work tomorrow."
"One shot won't kill your brilliant brain cells. Besides, we're celebrating my friend's incredible scientific breakthrough that's going to help trauma patients!" Laura waved down a passing server. "Three tequila shots, please. Decent stuff, not the well garbage."
As the server left, an awkward silence settled over the table. "So," Laura broke the silence, her eyes dancing between them with poorly concealed interest. "How's the research going? In fifth grader terms, please.”
Finn noticed Elena’s eyes light up a bit. Even with her employer actively sabotaging her work, the research itself still made her come alive. “Actually, we're seeing promising results. Eric, our first patient, his anxiety markers are down by nearly forty percent after six weeks.”
Laura let out a big smile. “That’s amazing. You’re so smart babe.”
Finn joined in. “The protocol is working even better than we initially hoped. The problem is the timeline. We have patients that started the protocol two weeks ago, some last week-”
“They won’t have completed enough sessions to show measurable improvement by the deadline. We need over a month of data per patient to show statistical significance,” Elena finished for him.
Laura’s smile was becoming more and more forced with each word.
Finn continued, “So we know the treatment works, we just don’t have enough patients far enough along to prove it to the board.
With the previous deadline, we were on track to complete the full protocol for every patient, but with only twenty days left-”
“We’re looking at having complete results for only half of our patient set. The board wants definitive results from the full patient group, not just preliminary results from the-”
“Oh thank God.” Laura said, as the bartender dropped off their tequila shots. “To be honest, 90% of that went completely over my head. Let’s do shots.”
Elena downed the tequila in a smooth motion. "This is terrible tequila," she said matter-of-factly.
Finn had never been much of a drinker. But the expectant looks from both women left him with no choice but to down his shot as well. The tequila burned down his throat, leaving a warmth that spread through his chest. “I forgot how much I hate tequila.”
"It gets easier after the second one," Laura assured him, already looking invigorated. She dug into her enormous purse and, after a moment of rummaging, produced a deck of cards with a triumphant flourish. "And now, for the main event!"
Finn peered at the box, which read "Truth or Drink" in bold red letters. A warning bell sounded in his head.
"I carry these for emergencies," Laura announced.
Elena's eyes narrowed. "This is an ambush."
"It's called being prepared," Laura countered, already shuffling the cards with ease. "This is a classic team-building activity. Very professional."
Elena looked at Finn, an apology in her eyes that somehow made him feel like they were conspirators in this strange evening. Despite his better judgment, Finn smiled back at her.
"So how does this work?" he asked Laura, even as he felt Elena's surprise at his willingness to participate.
Laura's grin widened. "Simple. You draw a card, read the question, and everyone has to pick between answering the question or taking a drink. No lying allowed.” She dealt three cards face down in the center of the table. "Who wants to go first?"
The first few questions were safe, getting-to-know-you type trivia.
Favorite movies (Elena: The Shape of Water; Laura: The Devil Wears Prada; Finn: Interstellar), worst first dates (Laura's story about a guy who demonstrated his nun-chuck skills unprompted), embarrassing moments (Finn’s story about misspelling the word ‘hypothesis’ at a fifth-grade spelling bee—which earned an exaggerated eye roll from Laura).
But as the game progressed, Finn couldn't help but notice a pattern in the cards Laura drew. The questions were becoming steadily more personal.
"Next question," Laura announced, flipping over a card with her traditional flourish. Her eyes lit up as she read it. "Oh, this is a good one. 'Do you have any secret tattoos?'"
The question was harmless enough for Finn. He had no tattoos, secret or otherwise. But a slight shift in Elena's posture beside him caught his attention.
Laura noticed it too. "Elena Herrera," she said, her eyebrows climbing. "Do you have something to confess?"
Elena took a careful sip of her wine, then set the glass down. "Actually—”
Laura shrieked, drawing annoyed glances from nearby tables. "You've been holding out on me! When? Where? What is it?"
Finn found himself curious. Where would Elena have a tattoo? His mind started wandering to her shoulder, her hip, her thigh. Then he realized he was essentially picturing Elena without clothes on. He took a drink.
"Hip bone," Elena admitted. She traced a small area just above where her hip would curve, a gesture so casually intimate that Finn’s throat went dry. "Got it after the divorce. It's small, just a constellation."
When she turned and saw his face, her expression changed. There was a hint of a smile in her eyes, something only Finn could see. “It’s your turn.”
Finn pulled a card, grateful to move on. But for the next three questions, he couldn’t stop thinking about that tattoo. He drank to distract himself from the thought, which was likely only intensifying the problem.
Laura drew the next card, her expression turning gleeful in a way that put Finn on edge. "How many people have you slept with?" she read, then looked at Finn expectantly. "Let's go around the table. Finn, you start."
He could feel Elena go still beside him.
This was the kind of personal information that had no place in a professional relationship, the kind of question that crossed all the careful boundaries they'd established.
He should drink. It was the sensible option.
Yet something made him hesitate. "Two," he said finally, his voice quieter than he'd intended.
Laura's eyes widened, a reaction that made him immediately self-conscious. Was that unusual? Too few? "Both relationships?" Laura pressed, leaning forward with undisguised interest.
Finn nodded, not trusting himself to elaborate further. He risked a glance at Elena, trying to gauge her reaction. There was surprise there, but he couldn’t read what else.
"Your turn, Elena," Laura prompted, mercifully shifting the attention away from him.
Elena immediately reached for her wine. "I'm drinking on this one."
"Coward," Laura teased, but didn't push further. Then she launched into a story about her ‘experimental phase’ in college that had Finn staring at his beer while Elena laughed.
The questions continued, each one seeming to dig a little deeper than the last. Finn found himself watching Elena more than participating. Then Laura drew a card that made her expression shift subtly. She read it once to herself, then looked up with a gleam in her eye that made Finn tense.
"What's more important," she read, her voice casual, "relationship or career?"
This question was deeply personal, like the others. It also hit way too close to home for both of them. Finn felt Elena go still beside him. Then she reached for her glass and downed the rest of her wine in one smooth motion.
Finn watched her set the empty glass down, her fingers lingering on the stem. He knew the question wasn’t that simple for her. It wasn’t just about career ambition. It was how she provided for Miguel. Her life’s work. The patients they were trying to help, and their families.
"My turn to answer," Laura said, filling the heavy silence. "Relationships, obviously. What's the point of success if you don't have someone to celebrate with?"
When it came to his turn, Finn hesitated. Career had always been his answer. Work was reliable, controllable. Relationships weren’t. Yet sitting here, with Elena beside him, he wasn’t sure anymore.