Finn knocked their shoulders together. “Hey. You’re doing great with him. He’s clearly happy. And he’s confident and well-adjusted. He’s sporting his colours at Pride.”
“Yeah.” He smiled softly. “Thanks. I try, but it’s not like I know what I’m doing, you know? It’s not like I’ve got a decent role model.”
Finn fiddled with his fork. “Not trying to emulate your parents?”
Robbie snorted. “Hardly. They, uh, wanted a girl. They had a boy—Sawyer’s dad—and then me. And my arrival was a disappointment. Ruined the set.”
“Gross.” Finn couldn’t imagine caring.
“It gets worse. Sawyer was born and they were ecstatic.”
Without meaning to, Finn glanced over at the kids, who were apparently still engrossed. “Shit. Have they not been supportive?”
“They’re basically a walking PSA of what not to do when your trans grandkid comes out.” He pulled a wry smile. “I guess they are kind of helpful for parenting. I just do the opposite of whatever I think they’d do.”
“Well, if Sawyer is proof of you bumbling round in the dark, I’d like to see what you do when you’re knowledgeable.”
Robbie knocked his shoulder back against Finn’s. “There’s plenty of clips of me stopping pucks on YouTube,” he joked.
“That sounds like work,” Finn joked back.
“Ouch!” Robbie grabbed at his chest. “Can’t even be bothered to pull out his phone. I see how it is.”
Finn shrugged and sipped his water. “Sawyer’s a good kid. Be proud.”
“Your view might be biased.”
“Why? Because he’s my sister’s bestie?”
“Nah, Sawyer thinks a lot of you. Not that he’d say it, but I suspect you get his best behaviour.”
Finn cocked his head. “Why?”
“You’ve never deadnamed him.”
“What?”
“He likes you because you’ve never deadnamed him.”
Finn blushed. “Oh, well, uh, there’s a simple explanation for that.” Robbie cocked an eyebrow. God, this was embarrassing. “Well, when I re-met him earlier this year, after he switched schools, I couldn’trememberhis deadname. I felt horrible.”
“Finn.” Robbie chuckled. “He says you make a point of using his name every time you see him. ‘In, like, a super gender-affirming way, Robs.’” He used air quotes.
Heat filled Finn’s cheeks even further. “I didn’t want to forget again.”
That set Robbie off—he burst into laughter.
Finn was wondering if he should let Robbie in on his suspicions about Sawyer and Imogen’s not-so-masterful plan, but something stopped him. If he did, he’d know for sure how Robbie felt about the idea, and it was nice to flirt without the expectations. Besides, Sawyer and Imogen still thought they were being subtle—it wasn’t like they were going to lock Robbie and Finn in a closet together. And if they did, Finn’s Swiss Army knife had a screwdriver on it, so they’d be fine.
He decided to let it lie. Sawyer and Imogen were still watching the fishtank when their food arrived, and had to be bodily dragged back to the table to eat before it got cold; the way they wolfed down the food and then ditched again left Finn with little doubt as to their intentions. No fourteen-year-old was that excited about a fishtank.
Robbie didn’t seem to think it was weird, though, or maybe Sawyer’s baseline level of weird just had him thrown off the scent.
Or maybe, Finn reflected when the server returned to the table with Robbie’s credit card, he’d just taken advantage of Finn’s distraction to pay the bill.
“Sneaky,” Finn commented as Robbie put his card back into his wallet. It would be polite to protest, but also expected and, Finn suspected, pointless. Robbie had played almost twenty years of professional sport. He could afford to take Finn and his sister out to dinner.
Besides, this gave Finn the perfect opportunity. “Thanks. I’ll get it next time.”
