15. Rune
Chapter 15
Rune
“J ust how fancy is this party?” I ask, watching mesmerized as Ella turns her long blond hair into a dreamy cascade of waves. My hair is straight and brown and even Ella gave up trying to get it to curl like hers.
“Fancy enough to make it clear that they’re a few tax brackets above us,” Courtney sniffs with displeasure. Although Aunt Mairi seems as excited about the party as Ella and I, Courtney straight up refused to go, insisting that nothing sounded worse than spending an evening rubbing elbows with a bunch of wanna-be socialites who’ve been drinking. Especially when she is planning to head out of town tomorrow morning to attend her friend's Christmas party.
“Is it too much cleavage, though?” I frown at the full-length mirror we’ve set up in the living room, holding my hand over the skin exposed by the plunging neckline. Although Ella falls under the “slender and willowy” category, we managed to find a black dress of hers with enough stretch to fit over my soft curves. It’s snug but not obscene, according to Aunt Mairi.
“ Is it too much cleavage ,” Ella mocks. “Rule number one: there can never be too much cleavage.”
“Agree to disagree,” I mumble, tugging at the neckline.
Aunt Mairi looks over from the kitchen, where she’s steaming her outfit: a silver chiffon blouse and black skirt duo. “I think it looks nice. A little bit of sexy, but not too much. Maybe shorten your necklace just a bit?”
I adjust the silver chain with its little book pendant so that it rests just beneath my collar bone.
“Perfect.”
I nod at my reflection, as if satisfied with my appearance. I’m not, but this is the best it’s gonna get. Full of nervous energy, I force myself to sit down and open my fancy book. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t made much progress on it, which is unusual. Even now, opening to my bookmark, I can’t focus on the words.
“I can hear your thoughts from over here,” Aunt Mairi murmurs.
“Do you think it’s actually ok that I come with you guys?”
“I thought Finn invited you,” she says, sounding surprised.
“He did, Mom.” I don’t have to look at Ella to know she’s rolling her eyes. “He specifically stared at Rune with those pretty blue eyes of his and asked if he was going to see her tonight. And then he caressed her shoulder.”
Shit, she’s been paying more attention than I realized. Even Courtney is looking at me with a thoughtful expression and now I wish I hadn’t said anything. I really, really hate being the object of someone else’s speculation.
“He did not caress my shoulder. And maybe he was just being polite,” I argue.
“If he didn’t want you to come, he wouldn’t have invited me in front of you, knowing that you’re staying with us and would have nothing else to do,” Ella insists.
“Men are not always perceptive.” I shouldn’t have to point that out.
“We’re talking about Finn here. He’s the epitome of perceptive.”
“Regardless,” Aunt Mairi breaks in calmly, “I think you’ll be fine. This isn’t a sit down event with placecards. People will be coming and going. I doubt we’ll be the only ones who bring out-of-town relatives or friends tonight. Sherri and Pat’s parties are somewhat famous.”
“If I get kicked out for crashing the party, I’m going to blame you,” I warn Ella, who’s still smirking.
* * *
The Lounge, where tonight’s party is taking place, is as beautiful and classy as Ella claimed. More so, even.
It’s an old brick building with massive floor to ceiling windows and minimalist-Scandi decor: all black matte metal and pale birch wood. The windows command an incredible view of the lake, or so they tell me; it’s dark outside, so I can't actually see what's out there besides some snow. The lights are low as we enter; upbeat music wafts from the bar area around the corner. There’s an enormous staircase leading to the hotel rooms that span the second and third floors. Around the lobby, groups of well-dressed people are conversing, drinks in hand.
It looks like a hopping place.
“Do you have a reservation?” The hostess peers at us from behind a tall counter.
“We’re here for the Sigurdson party,” Aunt Mairi replies.
“Ah.” The hostess pulls out a sheet of paper. “Just add your names here.”
I get another shiver of nervousness, but when I peer over Aunt Mairi’s shoulder, I see that she’s simply written her own name along with the number 3.
“See?” Ella whispers as we hang our coats in the coatroom. “You’re just a number. Could be you, could be Courtney. No one knows. Or cares.”
Fine, then.
In a partially separate area, there’s a table full of delicacies next to a very elaborate hot chocolate bar. Most of the women milling around are wearing either sleek black dresses or very extravagant holiday-ish fashion: a conglomerate of red plaid, gold sequins, and very high heels. The men take a more generic approach: tailored button-up shirts and black trousers or jeans.
I feel like I’m a child playing dress up amid a crowd of grownups, but it is kind of fun. It’s been a long time since I had any occasion to get fancy and go out for an evening. I stick like a magnet to Auntie and Ella as they weave their way through the crowd.
“Mom, Rune needs a drink,” Ella tugs on Aunt Mairi’s sleeve, steering her toward the bar.
Auntie takes one look at me over her shoulder and agrees without a word.
“Why do I need a drink?” I demand, mildly peeved at being singled out.
“Because you look like a scared little mouse.” Ella shoves a shot glass into my hand, filled with something bright and pink. “Shots first, then you can walk around with a proper drink like a classy lady.”
“Cheers to a night out with two of my favorite girlies.” Aunt Mairi taps her shot glass against each of ours before downing it quickly.
“Mom, you’re so old. No one says girlies,” Ella complains good-humoredly.
“That’s what you think. Wait till you become a grownup,” Auntie teases, booping Ella on the nose.
It’s an adorable picture: Aunt Mairi, with her dark, silver-stranded hair drawn back into an elegant French twist, her face already flushed from the liquor and laughing, and Ella: blonde, but with the same sparkling brown eyes and mischievous smile. They’re adorable, and I secretly wish I belonged to Auntie, instead of her sister.
Fortunately, I don’t have time to brood over familial relationships. A hand lightly touches my waist and I turn to see Finn, dressed in a white shirt with blue buttons, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“Hi.” He looks down at me with a smile.
“Hi,” I reply, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks and knowing there is nothing I can do about it.
“I was going to offer you a drink, but you’ve made a beeline and beat me to it.”
“We just needed a quick warmup before our real drinks. Rune doesn’t like crowds,” Ella says unnecessarily.
“I’m introverted, not anti-social,” I say quickly. “I’ve been known to frequent a club or two.”
“That makes two of us.” He gives me a wink before turning to the counter, waving down the bartender.
“What do you like?” he asks over his shoulder.
“A mojito, please,” Ella says.
“Are you even old enough to drink?” Finn scoffs.
“Rude, Finn.”
“How about you, Mairi?”
“A riesling, please. Thank you, Finny.”
“Rune?”
“Brandy on the rocks.”
“Preference on the kind?”
“I usually drink bottom shelf,” I say honestly.
His eyes flash with humor and he orders something that is definitely not bottom shelf.
“Here—riesling for you, Mairi. A mojito that may or may not have alcohol for little Ella. And brandy on the rocks for Rune.” He doles them out one by one as they come in.
“Now where are your parents?” Auntie looks around. “They were our next stop.”
“Over by the hot chocolate bar. Come with me.”
“Are all these people here for your parents’ party?” I ask as we weave between the scattered groups of socialites.
“Crazy, huh? Can you tell my parents are extroverts?”
I’m expecting to meet two people who look something like Finn: tall, dark, and extremely good-looking. So it’s mildly surprising when Finn’s parents turn out to be somewhat ordinary humans. Average height, with graying brown hair. His dad is thin, with a sort of weathered look about his face, like a man who spends a lot of time outdoors in the elements.
“Mom, Dad, look who just arrived,” Finn announces. “You remember Mairi’s daughter, Ella? And this is Rune, Mairi’s niece from out of state.”
“Mairi, it’s been too long—how have you been? Are you still making that lovely yarn?” His mother is a short, curvy woman dressed in a bold, red sequined dress. She has the social grace of someone who is used to playing the hostess, laying a hand on my aunt's arm as if they’re long-lost friends. Maybe they are. I guess I wouldn’t know.
Aunt Mairi certainly seems genuinely glad to see the woman. They chat about yarn and knitting and something about Sherri’s book club in Arizona, where they're currently spending the winter.
“And your niece, Rune—what a lovely name. Rune, where are you from?” Sherri smiles at me.
“I’ve been living in Chicago,” I reply.
“Oh, is that where you met Finn?” Sherri looks to her son for confirmation.
“No, I—well, it wasn’t—” I stumble over my words, wondering how to explain the fact that I broke into her son’s house and met him in a towel.
Finn looks delighted, waiting to see what I’m going to say.
“Rune’s just up for a visit,” Aunt Mairi says smoothly, possibly mistaking the reason for my hesitance. “Finn was kind enough to extend the invitation, since she’s staying with us.”
I look at her gratefully. God bless Aunt Mairi.
Our conversation is cut off soon thereafter by the arrival of more guests. When Aunt Mairi excuses herself to speak to another set of friends, Ella whips out her phone.
“I have someone I want you to meet,” she grins at me, a bright sparkle in her eyes. “See that table over there in the corner? Go grab it, I’ll be right back.”
I barely nod my assent before she disappears through the crowd, aiming in the direction of the entrance, leaving me alone in a room full of strangers. Finn remains at his mother’s side, talking to an older couple who just arrived. That leaves me, I guess. I head straight for the empty table, but another group grabs it before I make it there. Ugh. I could stand here awkwardly, or—I toss back my drink and nearly sprint to nab another table that seems freshly vacated. There are empty glasses strewn all over it, so I busy myself tidying it up, waiting for Ella to show up again.
Good thing I’m buzzed. It makes my solitude slightly less awkward. Besides, from this vantage point I can people watch. More specifically, I can stare unabashedly at the tall, stunning man working the room. He's moved away from his parents and easily engages with various groups of guests, joining into whatever conversation he happens upon. As if sensing my stare, his gaze catches mine. I can’t seem to pull my eyes away as his brows lift slightly and he makes his way towards me.
I’m a grown woman who’s been through a boyfriend or two, but butterflies erupt at his approach like I’m back in junior high and he’s my first crush.
“Have you been abandoned?” he asks.
“Possibly. Ella said she wanted me to meet someone. She may have gotten distracted.”
He looks around with a frown, as if trying to find Ella to express his disapproval. She’s well and truly gone.
Finn slides into the empty seat next to me instead, and suddenly I’m all nerves again.
“This is a nice party,” I say, wishing I was as full of words as Ella. “I had no idea you were such a social butterfly. I wouldn’t have the energy to be such a charming host right after a work trip.”
“You think I’m charming?” His eyes crinkle. “To be fair, I’ve been back for a couple days. I’ve had some time to reset my social batteries.”
“Oh.” That’s surprising. And also—a bit disappointing, if I’m being honest. I’d had this silly little thought in my mind that he would text me when he returned, even if it was just to comment that my car was no longer taking up space in his driveway. I was wrong. I’ve been overthinking that damn back massage for a solid week. I take a drink of brandy to hide my embarrassing thoughts.
I’m not hiding them well enough, because his expression turns sober. “I thought about texting you the moment I got back to see how you were making out with your big northern adventure. But then I didn’t.”
I blink. This sounds like the beginning of a not so great conversation. “Okay.”
He runs a hand through his hair. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was flustered. “It’s just—there’s been a lot going on with work the past few months. I’ve been in my head too much. So anyway, I'm glad I ran into you. Forced me to say something.”
“I appreciate the invite,” I force myself to say. “But you didn’t have to. I would have understood if you only wanted Mairi and Ella to come.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Finn grimaces and traces the ring of condensation left on the table by his glass. “I was hoping to meet up with you again.”
Now I’m all kinds of confused. I lift the brandy to my lips to stall for time. You can’t talk when you’re drinking. Unfortunately, he's still silent when I finish and I feel obliged to say something.
“So, if you had texted me,” I say slowly, “what would it have said?”
He lets out a breath and runs a hand through his hair again. It’s mussed up and I sort of want to bury my own hands in it.
“I thought about coming up with a joke. Probably a photo of the driveway or the house and make some humorous reference about you. Very lighthearted. Then I was going to ask if you were still up north, and if so, whether you were free at all this weekend.”
“And if I said yes?” Why is it suddenly so hard to breathe?
His eyes clash into mine. “Then I was going to ask if you’d like to do something with me.”
Well…shit.
Before I can string together enough words to make a coherent sentence, Ella emerges through the crowd, a colorful blue drink in hand and a man with cropped sandy blonde hair in tow behind her. “Oh, hello. Sorry, Rune, I got a little distracted. Meet Sam.” She twirls her hand towards him with a ta-da effect.
“Hi, Rune,” says the man.
“Hello, nice to meet you,” I reply. “And who, exactly, am I meeting?”
“My very latest love interest.” Ella winks at me. She ushers Sam to take a seat at the table, then perches on his lap, one arm draped over his shoulders.
“Latest as in best she’s ever had,” Sam says, tousling her hair.
“I worked for an hour on this.” She glares at him, trying to smooth the wild strands back with her free hand.
“I like it when it looks lived in,” he says. “You know that. Anyway, Rune, you’re the long-lost cousin from the big city?”
“Yeah. Big city girl visiting my small town cousin.”
“Nice. I took an internship in Chicago my sophomore year of college.”
“Really? How did you like it?”
“Hated it,” he says cheerfully. “I grew up in Forest Lake, just outside the Cities, but Chicago was just too—I don’t even know. Not my style.”
I know people actually do really like Chicago. And to be fair, it did enchant me for the first couple years. There are so many places to see, so many activities to participate in. But with each passing day, I feel less excited about the prospect of going back there.
“How did you meet?” I ask, watching the way he leans towards Ella so that they’re tucked in close together. Like even an inch is too far apart. There’s a softness to her smile when she looks at him that I don’t think I’ve ever seen on her face before.
“I work in Duluth,” Sam says. “Ella came into the office building one day, armed to the teeth with pamphlets and stickers and shit.” He reaches as if to tousle her hair again, then apparently thinks better of it and takes a drink of his beer instead.
“I was recruiting volunteers for cleaning up the parks and trails,” she clarifies. “He was my first recruit.”
“The moment she opened that smart little mouth of hers, I found myself agreeing to whatever it was she was asking for help with.” He makes a grimace. “Didn’t realize until too late that I volunteered to pick up what ended up being a solid fifteen gallons of dog crap.”
Ella cackles. “Sam was so invested that he started campaigning for stricter enforcement and higher fines for littering. It didn’t fly, but the city did put out more signs and free doggy doo bags.”
“So I’m basically a city hero.”
“Does Auntie know about him?” I ask.
“She knows about him, but has never actually met him. Tonight’s the big night.” If I didn’t know better, I’d say Ella looks nervous.
“You been skiing at all lately?” Sam says to Finn, changing the subject.
“A bit. Work’s been busy, but I’m hoping to get out there sometime in the next few days.”
Ella perks up even more, if that’s possible. “Wait, do you two actually know each other?”
“Finn and I were a part of the same cross-country ski club last year.”
“It was the two of us and about eight older women.” Finn chuckles into his drink.
“It was great. We were inseparable.”
“I don’t think you understand the definition of inseparable,” Finn deadpans back.
The chatter continues and I glance at Finn, who’s now bantering with Sam about some skiing thing or another. I’m dying inside, kicking myself for not blurting out an answer to Finn’s maybe-question. What if he thinks I’m not interested? What if some other girl sidles up to him and he goes off with her because I haven’t given him an answer? Deep down, I know it’s my perpetual anxiety whispering these thoughts, but I can’t shake them. So I reach for my phone, keeping it slightly hidden under the table, and tap out a quick text.
Me: I know the conversation has moved on. But hypothetically…if I’d received that text, I would have said yes.
Send.
Immediate panic follows. Did that sound too needy? Too…eager? I watch nervously as Finn slides his phone out of his pocket and, I presume, reads my message.
I almost die of relief when I see the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. Beneath the table, his knee presses against mine. I’m not sure I remember how to breathe.
Across the table, Ella sits a little straighter and tips her head to the side. Her eyes flick from Finn’s face to mine.
I swear I’m trying not to be obvious about it, but it’s really, really hard. I force myself to look away from him, as if I’m suddenly very interested in the decor of the place. The lights hanging from the ceiling are pretty nice. So is the exit sign above the door.
“So anyway,” Sam’s saying, “Ella keeps hiding her family from me. I don’t know if I should be celebrating or nervous that she’s finally letting me meet you guys tonight.”
Ella rubs her hands together, looking around nervously. “Maybe you should just leave now. Out the back door so Mom doesn’t see you.” The fact that she’s nervous must say something about how serious she is about this guy. He seems fine to me. And the fact that he’s friends with Finn—well, I just get a good feeling about it, is all.
“You want me to come for backup?” I ask.
“I don’t think we need backup, but you can come to enjoy the fireworks.” Sam tucks Ella’s arm into his.
I glance questioningly at Finn.
“Rune needs a refill. You guys go do what you have to,” he says.
Ella takes a deep breath before striding off resolutely across the room, dragging Sam away.
“She’s got him wrapped around her finger,” Finn observes.
I agree. I wonder what it’s like. I was always the one who was wrapped around Sebastian’s finger.
The bar has become more crowded now. It takes a while before we reach the counter and flag down the bartender.
“May I order this next one for you?” Finn looks down at me.
I motion for him to go ahead, taking the opportunity to admire his profile as he orders another very classy sounding brandy for me and a whiskey for himself. I’ve never heard of a nose fetish before, but maybe I have one because that nose of his is absolute, pure perfection. It's straight and chiseled right down to the very tip.
He catches me staring and his eyes crinkle. “See something you like?”
“Just waiting on my drink,” I lie. I couldn’t care less about the drink. At this point, it’s only an excuse to stand this close to Finn, our arms barely touching, pretending as if I’m not fully turned on by his proximity.
“You’re undressing me with those bedroom eyes.”
“I am not.” I am and I need to stop.
“I’m not complaining.” His hand brushes against mine as he hands me my brandy. “It's getting loud in here. Want to go find a quieter place to finish our conversation?”
Ella and Sam are forgotten entirely as Finn holds out his hand in a silent offer. I don’t think twice before putting mine in his and allowing him to guide us both out of the crowded bar.