Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
OAKLEIGH
Finn never told me what he spoke to Wren about, and to be honest, I never thought to ask.
I don’t want to hear that my best friend is angry or disappointed with us.
With me. I’ve always valued Wren’s opinion about most things in my life and dating has always been one of them, and even though this relationship isn’t real in any way, I still want to know that she’s on my side with this.
Judging by her face during lunch, however, that seems like a big ask.
When he drove me home after lunch, Finn surprised me by stopping for some coffee at this cute little café at the edge of Beckford.
Somehow, he knew my order exactly. It felt weird to say thank you to him, of all people.
I spend so much time telling him to fuck off that the gratitude feels strange on my tongue, the taste new and unrecognizable.
While I can admit to myself that maybe there’s a part of me deep deep deeeeeeep down that finds Finn attractive, despite all of the annoying parts of his personality; and although I can clearly see that he has the potential, I suppose, to be nice, I know within myself that I could never do anything with said attraction.
If anything, I should view it as a red flag because ever since I was a teenager, the world seems to have deemed it fit to only send me bad apples.
I’m talking rotten to the core apples. If I find Finn attractive, it can only mean that there is something about him that’ll leave my heart wrung out and stomped on.
And anyway, even if by some miracle I was open to it, Finn made it exceptionally clear the moment he met me that he wasn’t interested. That look of disgust and bemusement couldn’t have been mistaken for anything else. Why would that change years later after one kiss?
He was quiet the whole way home: contemplative. I was more than happy to stay silent, too wrapped up in my panic and shame to really concern myself with argumentative small talk.
Right before I got out the car, he said, “I don’t know if Wren told you, but I’ve moved in with her temporarily.”
I halted getting out, one foot on the sidewalk. “How come?”
I heard his shirt rumple in the silence, and I knew that he’d shrugged. “I wanted my parents to have their space after so long on a ship with loads of people. Besides, I’ve been looking into moving to Eaglewood for the past month or so.”
“But what about work?”
His sigh was heavy, loaded with stress. “I, uh—I’ll figure it out. All of the current projects are close to Eaglewood. It was a pain getting to Renford from my parents’ house, anyway.”
Renford is the town next to mine. It’s a pain in the ass to get to since it’s right where Lake Carlow filters off into a river, meaning there’s a massive bridge that always has traffic.
I don’t like feeling bad for him. Something in my gut pulled at me, telling me it wanted me to check in. I don’t check in on Finn, I compete with Finn. I knock him down a peg whenever he’s on his high horse and I bash him over the head with a frying pan once his feet are on the floor.
Maybe that’s why I never turned around, aware that if I saw the heaviness in his shoulders or the tiredness under his eyes, I’d care enough to ask if he wanted to talk about it.
The last time—not counting this morning—I had ended up alone in a car with Finn outside my house, things took a turn that still has my cheeks heating up.
I just wanted to leave and avoid recreating that moment again.
Which leads me to now, spread out on my bed at three in the morning, sheets tangled around my legs from all my tossing and turning.
Just as I was about to fall asleep last night, memories of that kiss ripped through my mind like scissors gliding through wrapping paper—sharp and loud.
With it came the realization that if I was pretending to date Finn, that would imply that sooner or later, I’d have to kiss Finn … again.
The last kiss left me dazed and confused. It left me wondering if I had wanted more or if I had wanted to punch Finley in the face for making my dare go to shit.
If I have to do it again multiple times … how the hell am I going to survive?
Because Finn and I can’t be more; not when the price to pay is my best friend’s happiness.
What we do affects Wren, and I’ll be damned if I make things uncomfortable for her.
What we’re doing now toes the line, yes, but even I can admit that Finn’s plan has an almost cathartic ending.
It leaves everyone satisfied with the knowledge that we at least gave it a shot.
I refuse to put my heart on the line knowing full well it will break; I’m not prepared to do that to my best friend’s as well.
My phone buzzes on my nightstand, the dim light seeming ten times brighter in my pitch-black bedroom. I squint as the light meets my eyes, almost blinding me.
Dumbass
You working tomorrow?
God, maybe I said his name too many times.
I type out a reply.
What’s it to you?
Not even a minute later, the little gray bubbles turn to a new message.
Dumbass
A little defensive, aren’t we?
A little creepy, aren’t we?
Dumbass
Just answer the goddamn question.
I make him wait for my reply.
Yes, I’m working.
It takes him a couple minutes to reply.
Dumbass
A late shift?
As if I ever get given any other shifts.
The dots come and go I don’t know how many times, and I wonder what it is that he’s writing then deleting each time.
Eventually, he writes:
Dumbass
What time do you finish?
What’s with the twenty questions, Southwick?
All I get in return is an emoji of a guy shrugging. Honestly, he needs to find a new movement, one more shrug and he’ll turn into August.
Finley.
Dumbass
What are you doing up? It’s three in the morning.
He’s evading the question, but right now I’m too tired to argue.
I know how to read a clock.
Dumbass
Can you ever just answer a question normally?
Pot. Kettle. Ringing a bell?
Once again, I’m left staring at gray dots that come and go.
Something within me deflates when I finally read his reply.
Dumbass
Get some sleep, Cherry.
* * *
By the time I’m getting my things from my locker after work, sleep is already shutting my body down bit by bit.
Most days, I’ll get straight into my pajamas at work and just jump in the car so I can go home and pass out without having to waste any time.
Today, however, I’m so exhausted that it appears tonight will be another sleep in scrubs night. At least these ones are clean.
I grab my bag with my clothes in them and my phone before heading toward the exit.
“You finally finished?” Nicole, a fellow nurse asks. She’s a good friend, she even came to my thirtieth last year that Wren planned for me.
I let out a heavy sigh. “Is it really finished if I have to be back here tomorrow?”
“Should honestly be illegal to leave a night shift late.”
“Agreed. I’m like the walking dead right now. Two large accidents in one week is a joke.”
Her face softens. “Go and get some sleep, Lee. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I blow her a kiss and carry on walking. I’m about to leave the hospital when a recognizable mop of curly brown hair and sharp features makes me pause.
What the hell is he doing here?
I shake my head to myself before walking over to Finn’s sleeping form.
His head rests in his hand, his breaths even and calm, his face relaxed.
He has to hunch in the hospital waiting-room chairs in order to fit, his long legs having no choice but to spread out in front of him. How peaceful he looks.
I lean right in, as close to his ear as I can.
So peaceful.
“HEY!”
Finn leaps up with a high-pitched screech, and I almost fall on the floor with how hard I’m laughing.
I’d work twenty night shifts just to hear that noise come out of his mouth again.
He looks around, panicked, but the moment he spots me, that panic quickly turns to rage, then morphs into unimpressed.
He folds his arms over his chest, muscles bulging.
“You done?” he asks after a minute of watching me hunched over, laughing so hard that tears are escaping my eyes.
I try once, twice, five times to tell him yes, but every time I look at his face, I start laughing all over again, remembering the look of pure terror that was spread across it.
He rolls his eyes before unfolding his arms and picking up my bags that lie forgotten on the floor. The action sobers me up enough to form coherent sentences.
“What are you doing with those?”
He rolls his eyes again, turns around and heads out the doors. It must have rained while I’ve been working. Remnants of rainfall darken the sidewalk and the fresh smell of water that’s wanted to fall for days hangs in the air. It’s one of my favorite smells.
Even though I want nothing more than to question him about carrying my bags, I stand still, and take a second to inhale the scent of mother nature’s finest work.
The summer air still holds its warmth even though it’s five in the morning.
I was supposed to finish at three, but shit happened and I needed to stay.
Now, the sun begins to peak out over the horizon, and the birds are singing their songs.
I smile softly as I open my eyes, but it quickly disappears when I see Finn watching me, one hand in his pocket, the other clutching my bag.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Nothing.”
“You’re staring at me.”
“I’m admiring you; there’s a difference.”
Any words catch in my throat, because what the fuck am I supposed to say in response to that?
I clear my throat, hoping that some of the words will dislodge themselves. I take a step forward, lowering myself from the sidewalk to the parking lot.
“You’ve been acting weird since last night. What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing,” he replies, taking a step back.
“Something is. You buy me coffee, you tell me to get some sleep, you carry my bags and now you’re admiring me?”
He turns away from me. “What do you want me to say, Cherry?”
“I want you to tell me what’s going on!” I run to catch up to him, standing in front of him so he’s forced to stop walking toward my car.
“The problem you seem to be having with me is that I’m being nice to you?”
“Exactly! You’re being nice.”
“And nice is an issue?”
“It is when it’s out of the blue. We don’t do nice, Finley. We argue and we compete, and we bully one another. We have never done nice.”
He puts his weight on one leg and runs a hand over his face.
“Well, maybe that needs to change.”
“Why? What the hell is wrong with that?”
“What isn’t wrong with that, Oakleigh! Look at us, we’re arguing in the middle of a fucking parking lot at five in the morning all because I gave you a compliment, and you think that the relationship we have is good?”
“I think that it’s ours. It’s how we are.”
He remains silent, staring at the tarmacked floor with distain.
“Does this have something to do with the conversation you had with Wren?”
“No,” he snaps way too quickly. He takes a deep breath in and out. “No.”
His eyes finally meet mine and the darkness within them tells me nothing about how he’s feeling. I can’t read him. His eyebrows rise, and after a brief shake of his head, he clicks his fingers three times.
I frown at the movement.
“I thought the compulsions had stopped,” I say to him for the second time this week.
“I never said that they’d stopped completely.”
“But they’ve been more frequent. At lunch yesterday I saw you tapping the table.”
His face hardens. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
It’s my turn to stare at the ground, only looking back up when I see Finn’s sneakers step into the frame.
“Look, at the end of the day, we both need this relationship thing to go well. No one is going to believe that two people who do nothing but argue, compete and bully one another as you put it are going to randomly start dating. Not even us. So, yes, I will be nice because nice is what I am. I will compliment you because that’s what boyfriends do. ”
I get a whiff of his cologne and my stomach jolts.
“But no one is even here.”
“Doesn’t matter. I can’t keep switching between kind and snarky at a moment’s notice. The easiest way to make sure it’s believable is to just stay in one headspace.”
He’s making sense, but he isn’t. This conversation has blindsided me and is leaving me feeling as if I’m somehow missing something. Like there was a change between us that completely passed me by. Or maybe just a change in him.
He seems desperate for this to work. I knew he was worried about Wanda, but this seems almost—and I hate to say this word as it relates to him—impulsive.
The knowledge that his compulsions are becoming frequent sets off a reaction in me that tightens my chest. I can’t imagine what it’s like, sometimes being so out of control of your own mind that it controls you more than you control it. It must be scary; terrifying even.
Ever since our kiss, I had been paying more attention to him.
At first, it was purely physical—the definition of his muscles, the way he tends to saunter about as if he has all the time in the world, the way the sun makes the green in his eyes really stand out.
After about a month or two, I started to notice other things—the way his smile always faltered when he thought no one was looking, the compulsions that would sneak through now and again.
I never brought them up because at the time it never felt like it was my place, but now I’m wondering if I should have seen Finn for what he is and treated him like it, instead of putting our differences in front of me to block it all out.
Because at the end of the day, Finn is exactly what I am … human.
For the first time since I met him, I find myself looking at Finn through a new lens.
Not one that makes me feel any different about him, but one that opens my eyes to a part of his life that I maybe overlooked before.
I acknowledge that it must be hard being Finley Southwick, and that maybe it’s not all as cracked up as he makes it out to be.