18. Callie
Callie
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 6TH
“ S orry for the mess,” Finn follows me as I hobble in through the front door of my house. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to blow out my ankle and then have company.” I could have just told him good night at the door, but he probably wouldn’t have listened. And I probably would have been okay with that, anyway. Because I probably want to see more of him.
“Well, you saw Squishmallow-geddon and then ate pizza on my bed, so this is really only fair,” Finn answers, setting my gym bag and water bottle down on my small dining table.
“Please don’t judge me for the smell; I swear it’s the ferret and not me.”
“I always think you smell great—” Finn stops himself and I look over at him. He’s visibly embarrassed, but I couldn’t be happier.
“ Really? That’s interesting!”
“Whatever, you know you smell good.”
Fettuccini, tired of hearing me in the house for a full thirty seconds before letting him out of his room, starts to squawk.
Finn looks relatively horrified at the sound. “What the hell is that? Is that coming from your bedroom?”
I laugh. “Technically, it’s from Fettuccini’s room. It’s called dooking.”
“It’s called what now?”
“‘Dooking,’” I reply, carefully enunciating because we all know it sounds like I said dookie. “It’s the sound ferrets make when they’re happy. I’m not usually away from home this long, so he’s excited to see me.” I hop my way towards his room to let him out.
“It sounds like you have a pet Chucky doll.”
“You’re not too far off,” I joke. “Brace yourself.”
I open the door and, like a furry lightning bolt, Fettuccini streaks across the living room floor. He jumps and bounces off the furniture and weaves under the dining room table legs before bopping up to me, dooking the entire time.
“Hi, sweet boy!” I coo. “Let’s go to the couch. Care to join us?” I ask Finn.
He doesn’t answer, but he’s clearly apprehensive. I guess that’s fair. Not everyone gets the whole weasel thing.
But Fettuccini is running along the back of my couch before I can even prop up my foot, and before long, he’s burrowing through the blankets to come up and sit on my chest.
“Not all ferrets are prone to nuzzling, but I lucked out with this one. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“He’s so fast, how do you not trip over him constantly?”
“Oh I do. But he’s usually more aware of me than I am of him and he dodges pretty quickly.”
“That’s probably not ideal when you’re shuffling around with crutches.” Finn evaluates my floor plan, and I can see the wheels turning in his head. “Do you mind if I move some things around for you?” He picks up ferret toys off the floor, along with the random socks my thieving little friend has confiscated.
“You don’t have to do that. Here, help me up,” I tell him and hold out my hand.
“I want to do it, though. I want to make sure you’re safe.”
He pulls me back up to standing and my lack of balance forces me into his chest a little.
His delicious chest. I wanna lick it.
Okay, so what I thought was my inner voice might actually just be my vagina’s inner voice…
I could totally kiss him right now. His eyes are dark with need. I’m not an idiot, he totally wants me. I just need to lean in a little and?—
“Why don’t you show me the main pathway that you take around here?” Finn clears his throat and rotates his body away from mine, but doesn’t let go of my arm.
He’s nervous. I can work with that.
“Okay, well luckily the house isn’t all that big,” I soften my voice a little because I’m now channeling my inner seductress and I want to sound like a lounge singer. “The kitchen is just a galley kitchen, and the bathroom is here right off the hallway. The only thing left is…my bedroom.”
I know, okay? I know. I know I sound ridiculous. But Finn’s cheeks just went red again and I’m living for it.
He clears his throat one more time and hands me my crutches, all while avoiding eye contact.
“It’s just down here at the end.”
It isn’t until I open the door to my boudoir that I remember just how un sexy it is right now. There are clothes literally everywhere , including several pairs of my dirty underwear that Fettuccini has embezzled from my hamper and so graciously strewn around.
Oh shit, is my vibrator drawer open?
“YEP, WELL THERE IT IS!” I immediately slam the door shut again and back up into Finn. “That’s, uh…that’s my bedroom.”
His face is both confused and relieved somehow.
“Anyway, it’s a small house, and I think I’m good at navigating,” I promise.
He shakes his head slightly, probably trying to figure out why I went from Jessica Rabbit to Roger Rabbit in the span of five seconds.
I don’t wait for him to catch up, I just hobble back towards the front of the house and try to regroup.
Finn goes back to picking up random clutter off the floor while Fettuccini snakes all around the furniture like a cartoon.
“Seriously, Finn, you don’t have to clean up, I’m good. You’ve done so much already, I really appreciate it.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he stops cleaning. “Are you sure?”
Seriously, lick his chest. Just once real quick. It looks so much better in a regular t-shirt.
“I’m sure.”
You are not sure.
“Okay, well I’ll, uh, I’ll call you tomorrow and talk about some of the rehab. I’m sure Brian will be in touch as well. Remember to keep it elevated and ice it for no more than fifteen minutes at a time. Try not to walk around, if you can. You want to rest as much as possible for the first couple of?—”
“Finn, I’ve got it,” I laugh. “I promise. I have zero plans for tomorrow, I will just hang out here at the house and watch movies all day. Ankle elevated and on ice.”
He starts to speak, so I cut him off. “But only for fifteen minutes at a time,” I amend.
Satisfied ( but not as satisfied as I’d like him to be ), he nods and walks to the front door.
He must have expected me to go sit back on the couch, because he seems pretty surprised when he turns and finds me standing right next to him.
Holy shit, he looks good. His eyes are like…something really deep, I don’t know.
“Are you sure there’s not anything else you need before I go?” he asks.
“Um…actually maybe just one thing.”
He doesn’t have a chance to ask what before I plant my lips firmly on his.
He tastes even better than he looks.