48. FORTY-EIGHT
FORTY-EIGHT
Headlights. Cars. People. There’s something overwhelming about it all. I never really struggled with big crowds before, and a road is hardly a crowd. But this? I've spent far too much time inside, I guess.
The burger place is another fast food joint with bright colors and overpriced junk, but that’s not what really matters here.This is the first contact of anyone else in so long, and to be honest I can’t say I love it.
As we pull up to the pay window my throat begins to tighten. So much could go wrong. Why did I want this, again? Am I an idiot? I have to be the world’s biggest idiot. Everything that goes wrong is always my fault.
Finn must be antsy, too. His knee is bobbing up and down and he can barely focus on anything without whipping his head around to make sure I’m still there. I have no idea what he’s so nervous about, since it’s not as though I can throw myself out of the car and run off.
“That’ll be twenty-six eighty, please.” An exhausted teenager who doesn’t even really register our presence mumbles. Finn taps his card and then we pull ahead, grab our food, and find a cozy little spot in the corner of the parking lot.
I’m not entirely sure what I thought would happen. Finn’s being so weird about it all that I sorta believed someone would happen to recognize me, but nope—didn’t happen. Why would it?
Cheap foil-laminated paper rustles as my boyfriend pulls out the food, handing me a lettuce-wrapped cheeseburger with a horribly nervous expression. “H-Here, uh… You… are you okay?”
“You’re asking me that?” I can’t help but giggle a bit. “Relax, Finn. The cops aren’t gonna bust open the windshield.”
“Not funny,” he frowns. “Not funny at all.”
“It’s kinda funny.”
“Duncan.”
Dramatically sighing, I unwrap my burger and take a bite. For fast food it’s pretty good, but it’s actually not as good as Finn's cooking. “Did you ever skip school as a kid?”
After a delay Finn glances over at me, brows pushed together in confusion. “Huh?”
“I just… I guess I wonder what it was like for you at school,” I admit sheepishly. “I used to skip with my friends and do dumb stuff. There was a point in time where I was spending more time in parking lots than class.”
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, chewing quietly for a moment. “I didn’t… I didn’t have friends, bunny. I told you that. You’re my… first friend.”
The world comes to a halt, and all that runs through my mind is memories. Memories of all the different friends I’ve had throughout the years. Sure, none of them really stuck around besides Haley, but at least I had them during my formulative years.
“Yeah, but…” But what, Duncan? “You really… nobody?”
“No.” Finn doesn’t look phased in the slightest. “It’s okay. I’m happy that you’re my friend. My best friend.”
Smiling weakly, I can’t help but dip my chin. “You wouldn’t have liked my friends. They were so loud, and… different. They were different. Not Haley, though. She’s always been so sweet.”
“I would’ve,” he says through grit teeth. “I like… the people you like. She seems… nice.”
I laugh halfheartedly. “Yeah, I guess you did go through my phone.” How many other things have I told him that he already knew?
“She cares about you. I could… I could tell.” Finn grips his pants way too tightly out of what I can only presume to be some weird form of jealousy. “But I do too, you know? More than she does.”
“It’s not a competition.”
“Isn’t it?” His head tilts. “I would do anything for you. She might care about you, but she doesn’t love you more than I do. Nobody does. She wouldn’t die for you?”
“And you would?” I scoff.
Finn stares at me like I’ve said something horrible. “I would. I would. I’d do anything for you, Duncan. Anything.”
What he’s saying is absolutely terrifying and all sorts of crazy, but is he wrong?
Haley wouldn’t stalk me for weeks, nor would she do half the things Finn has done.
But I wouldn’t ask her to, either. I wouldn’t ask her to hurt herself or me, and I wouldn’t ask her to make her life revolve around me.
But Finn did all of that without question, without prompting, even.
“Yeah, I…” I don’t know what to say. Don’t know how to properly express what I feel, or even how to process what I’m feeling. Is it fear or happiness? When did the two get so similar? “I’m sorry you didn’t have anyone growing up.”
Finn smiles so purely, looking at me with nothing but love in his eyes. “Let’s just stop talking about this. I’m happy with you. Happier than I’ve ever been. What happened before doesn’t matter.”
He kisses me as if I’m the most delicate thing, gently stroking my cheek with his thumb as he does. It’s enough to put my thoughts at ease. He’s right, it doesn’t matter. Nothing does.
“So cute, bunny.” Finn’s voice is husky as we pull apart, with his hands moving to grab my sides and pull me closer. “Finish your burger so we can go home, okay? It’s a long drive, and I’d like to…” he trails off with a chuckle. “You’ll see.”
For such a meek guy he can really be so bold sometimes. Anticipation begins building in my stomach as I wolf down the rest of my burger, only occasionally glancing out the window.
The rest of the world doesn’t seem that special to me. Parking lot signs lodged into mounds of snow. A surprisingly busy drive-thru on December twenty-first. The people I care about are long gone. Only Finn is left, and I can’t lose him.
After I’m done eating I pull the mask back up, shutting my eyes and resting my head against the window. I think one of my favorite songs is playing quietly in the background, but the car is warm and today has been a lot.
“You gonna nap, my love?” Finn speaks softly, putting his hand back on my thigh and giving it a comforting squeeze. “I’ll try not to wake you up when we get home.”
“Maybe,” I yawn. “Thanks for taking me out, too.”
“I’d do anything for you, bunny. Anything.”
Two words leave my lips before I stare out the window with a blank face. “I know.”