24. Sierra
SIERRA
“ I s this a joke?” I asked as we turned off the main drive into a crowded parking lot. When Finn had told me he wanted the location of the Every Day Is Sunday wrap party to be a surprise, I’d envisioned some swanky hotel rooftop terrace downtown. Not this .
Finn laughed at the utter shock on my face. “Why would it be a joke? You think I’d have driven you thirty minutes outside the city just to be funny?”
“Stop,” I said, hardly containing my glee. He must have been messing with me. “Is this really where the wrap party is? I’m not being punked?”
Finn cut the ignition, his lips curling into a cheeky half grin. “Yes, this is really where the wrap party is. And no, you are not being punked.”
I glanced back out the window, staring at the sign for the Gutter Ball, a massive bowling alley.
It looked like something right out of the eighties, with flashing pink, green, and yellow neon signs pointing the way to the entrance, retro graphic posters, and a geometric paint pattern along the sides of the building .
“Ready?” Finn asked me.
I hopped out of the car, recognizing some of the cast and crew that spilled out the front door of the building.
The smell of greasy, fried food filled the air, mingling with the thumping music from inside.
Honestly, this was something straight out of my tenth birthday party, and probably the most fun wrap party I could ever imagine.
So what the hell was Hart of Gold doing here?
“Okay,” I said, narrowing my eyes as Finn walked around the front of the car, looping his arm over my shoulders. “What’s really going on?”
“A good time by the sounds of it,” he said as raucous laughter echoed across the parking lot. “Think we should join them?”
I looked up at him in the lingering twilight. “You didn’t turn the wrap party into a bowling thing just for me, right?”
He shrugged off my question, pulling me closer as he led me to the front door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Finn!” I huffed.
“Have you mentioned that you like bowling?” he said, playing at surprise. “That totally slipped my mind.”
“ Finn ,” I said more pointedly.
We stopped walking and he cupped my face, pecking me on the lips.
“Look, the movie is a departure from the norm for Hart of Gold, so I figured the wrap party should be, too.” He flashed me a tiny, real smile, and my heart thumped at the thought of him arranging this whole event just so I’d enjoy myself. It was so sweet it made my head spin.
I felt like an actual princess as he escorted me inside. I was even dressed like it. That thought dawned on me that I was in completely wrong attire for bowling—a sparkly minidress was not ideal .
I whacked him on the arm as we stood in line to collect our bowling shoes.
“Not the reaction I was expecting,” he said, laughing at my look of indignation.
“Why did you let me dress like this?” I demanded over the thumping pop music. I was dressed for mingling over cocktails, not for defending my long-standing high score.
“Because you look fantastic,” Finn rasped in my ear, his hands landing on my waist. He squeezed, and a warm wave rolled through me, settling in my belly. “And because you were so excited to get dolled up.”
“Yes, well, if I’d known we’d be bowling?—”
“What? Don’t tell me you have a lucky pair of bowling socks,” he said, smirking.
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
He threw his head back and laughed. Not one of his showy, people-pleasing laughs, but an actual laugh. It burst from him so effortlessly I couldn’t help but grin.
“Now I’m short my lucky socks and I’m gonna end up flashing the sound techs,” I said, adjusting my dress. I was already doing mental gymnastics trying to figure out if bowling in this thing would be possible without my boobs jumping out.
“Well, we can’t have that,” Finn said, shrugging out of his suit jacket. He looped it over my shoulders. “I’m the only one allowed to see those .”
I shifted in his jacket. The lining must have been silk. It was big on me, of course, but his hands pressed against me teasingly as he did up the buttons very, very slowly. “Is this going to impede your bowling prowess?”
I pursed my lips. “Just watch and learn, Mr. Bigshot. You’re about to get schooled.”
He rolled his eyes as we collected our shoes. I dragged him down past busy lanes until I spotted the one Ro had snagged with Brenna and the assistant costume designers.
“Hey,” I said as we greeted the group. Carter had brought his girlfriend, and I immediately asked her where she found all the punny costume-themed shirts he had.
Trin was debating the likelihood of breaking her nails on the bowling ball.
And to my surprise, Paisley and Brenna were squirreled away in the corner, deep in what looked to be a very flirty conversation.
I caught Finn’s eye, giving him an approving look.
“Don’t you look cute,” Ro said as I sat down next to her, helping her plug all of our names into the computer to be displayed on the overhead screen.
“Finn told me we were bowling after I’d already poured myself into my shortest, tightest dress. You could have given me an FYI.”
“He wanted it to be a surprise.”
“I know, but like…” I gestured to myself.
“You look?—”
“Gorgeous,” Finn cut in, leaning over the back of my seat.
I tipped my head back, looking up at him, his hazel eyes dancing in the flashing lights. He looked gorgeous. And I guess I couldn’t complain that much about what I was wearing since most people turned up looking their best. “I look like I’m about to kick your ass,” I said .
His lips curled devilishly. “All right then, Cinderella. Time to put your money where your mouth is.”
I spent the next two hours dusting off my bowling skills—or, more accurately, leaving everyone else behind in my dust. My only real competition was Ro, but once I’d rolled up the sleeves of Finn’s jacket and put my game face on, it was over for everyone.
The copious amounts of alcohol probably didn’t help the number of gutter balls flying down the lanes, but there was truly something divine about eating greasy bowling alley pizza with a glass of champagne while listening to the Backstreet Boys.
I filled up on goodies and gossip while Finn made the rounds, thanking the cast and crew for their hard work before getting roped into a dance competition with the camera guys.
He was good at this— the partying and the schmoozing—but I occasionally caught glimpses of the real him too, and it was like worlds were colliding.
I actually felt like Cinderella, the girl whose clock was quickly ticking down to midnight.
I knew there was still the whole media blitz to come as we marketed the movie during post-production, and I was already slated to do a bunch of costume-specific interviews for the run-up to the Oscars.
But what I didn’t know was what the end of filming meant for our relationship—this sometimes-real, sometimes-not, in-between thing that we’d never talked about labeling because I already had a ring on my finger.
What more did we need to say?
But soon, there would be no more need for that ring, and despite my best attempts, we hadn’t discussed what came after .
Okay, so maybe they weren’t my best attempts. I hadn’t actually tried all that hard to initiate the conversation. But who could really blame me? For once in my life, I just wanted to enjoy myself before the clock struck midnight.
I shook off those thoughts, or tried to, as Finn threw his ball down our lane, landing it in the gutter at the last second.
“Looks like you could use some hands-on coaching,” I said from behind him.
He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Tell me more about this ‘hands-on’ part,” he said over the thump of the music.
“It’s more something I have to show you,” I said.
His eyebrows waggled. “I like the sound of that.”
“Good. We’re gonna start by holding some very big balls.”
Finn snorted, another one of those real laughs breaking through as he shook his head at my poor attempt at a dirty joke. “That was horrible.”
“I’ve been drinking. Tonight’s not the night for my best work.”
“I know. Which is why I’m going to give you a pass.” He took me by the lapels of his own jacket and tugged me close. “Want to get some air?”
“You just want a ‘hands-on’ demonstration,” I said wryly.
He winked at me. “I’m trying to let someone else on our team win at bowling.”
My mouth shot open. “A distraction play!”
“Exactly,” he said, looping his arm through mine and leading me out a side door. We emerged into darkness, the October night chilly but not unbearably so. “Warm enough?” he asked .
“I could do with some body heat,” I said.
He wrapped his arms around me, dropping his hands down to cup my ass. “Hi.”
“Hey,” I said, looking up at him. His dark features glowed in the lights pouring through the glass doors.
“Are you having fun?” he asked.
“Yes. Bucketloads.”
“Bucketloads? I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“It is,” I said as his hands curled over my hips. I pressed myself closer to him.
“Good,” he said. I could tell he wanted to kiss me, and God knew I wanted that, too. But before I got lost in every intoxicating thing that was Finn, I gathered my courage and blurted out the question that had been ricocheting around my mind for the better part of the night.
“What happens now?”
“What do you mean?” Finn said. “We make out hard, we go back in there and you wipe the floor with the sound guys, and then I take you home and you can give me that hands-on coaching you were talking about.”
I caught the laugh that surged up my throat. “That’s not what I meant.”
He leaned closer, held me tighter. “Isn’t it?”
I bit my lip. He tilted his head, chasing my mouth with his own, but I pulled back. “Be serious for a second.”
“I’m serious about kissing you. ”
I pressed against his chest with my hand, halting him. “After today…tonight? Whatever. What happens with us and this…relationship? Are we engaged through to the end of post-production? Until the premiere? What about… after ?”
Finn sobered, his eyebrows colliding as he played with the collar of his shirt. “I mean…Jillian’s going to have worked out a plan for us through the premiere at least. Maybe even through the award season. We wouldn’t want to do anything that would detract from Oscar conversations.”
Like stage a breakup ? I swallowed hard. That was and wasn’t the answer I’d been hoping for from him.
As if Finn could sense that, he pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth, then my cheek, then my brow before dropping back down and capturing my lips. And as I fell deep into the spell that was Finn Lockhart, I decided to just put those questions aside and enjoy what I had for the moment.
Because why worry about the ending of a relationship that had been meticulously planned from the very beginning?
This wouldn’t be like Trey. Finn wouldn’t up and disappear from my life at the drop of a hat.
If things were going to end, I’d see it coming from a mile away.
In fact, I’d likely receive a script for it and have to show up for rehearsals.
And then, knowing Finn, he’d probably give me notes on how to do it better.