“We can’t wait, dear,” Mom says. “I’ve got my jersey all ready to go.”
Charlie scoffs. “Oh, we know, Mom. Matty has always been your favorite.”
“That’s not true,” she protests, but it’s a long-played-out topic between my ridiculously competitive brothers, and there’s no longer any frustration when she defends herself.
Like the rest of the conversation, her gaze remains on me until the video ends, looking for any sign something is wrong. She won’t find one. Because, for the first time in a long time, I’m truly happy and healthy.
I wish I could share with them what’s bringing me back to life.
13
Finley
Zach and I stopavoiding each other when Matt leaves. We didn’t talk about hiding our friendship from him, but we both kept our distance.
Sitting beside Zach eases the ache of his absence the last several days. But my desire to nuzzle into his side, press my face into his neck, breathe him in during our movie marathon complicates this friendship.
He shifts in his seat as the main characters undress each other on screen. The movie had been building to this for more than an hour, so I’m not surprised the moment lingers, the characters desperate for each other but wanting to make it last, to commit every second to memory.
I’d do the same with Zach.
I glance over at him, and when our eyes meet, he shifts his attention back to the screen. An involuntary sigh escapes my lips as I remember the intensity of his stare two years ago when I was on my knees for him. I try to ignore the flutter in my gut and focus on the movie. But when the man dips his mouth to thewoman’s boob, Zach takes an unmistakable gulp, and I can’t take the tension any longer.
I turn toward him, shifting my legs into a pretzel and nodding toward the TV. “You ever do that?”
Zach’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “What?”
“Sex,” I clarify, forging ahead.
“Yeah, Finley, I’ve had sex before.”
“It’s not that weird of a question.” I attempt to ignore the warmth spreading through my body at the idea of intimacy with Zach. “There’s no standard timeline. How old were you when you did it the first time?”
The tense lines of his body slacken, and he sinks into the couch, his body tilting toward me. “Eighteen. What about you?”
“Sixteen. And it was terrible. I’m surprised I gave it another shot, honestly.”
Zach snorts. “I hope Melinda Hamilton doesn’t say that about me.”
“Melinda Hamilton,” I repeat with a laugh. “She sounds absolutely dignified.”
“As opposed to what? Finley Harris? Which sounds…”
“Kicky,” I finish his sentence with a grin.
Zach reaches for his beer bottle and raises it to his lips, then pauses. “What was so bad about it?” He takes a swig before lowering the bottle. “Quick off the mark?”
He doesn’t hesitate, no stumbling, mumbling, or second-guessing.Interesting. Maybe it’s the alcohol. His intense eye contact withthatquestion intensifies the pounding between my legs. A crackle in the air surrounds us again, and I so want it to ignite.
“I mean, obviously, yeah. He was a teenage boy. But that wasn’t it.” I grab a cracker from the plate on the coffee table and pop it into my mouth. The drumbeat of my heart sounds in myears. “I didn’t feel connected to him. None of it felt like it was about me, you know?”
Zach clears his throat, shifting his gaze back to the screen. He’s quiet for a long moment, mulling over his response. “Is that why you bolted from me?”
Zach Briggs knocks me off guard once again. He’s had three weeks to ask about our hookup, the one I cut short because my mind was a mess. When he didn’t, I decided it hadn’t been as big of a deal to him as it was to me. I can’t imagine the DMs waiting for him every time he opens a social media app. Some girl blowing him at a wedding is probably just another Friday night.
“I didn’t expect anything—I’d never expect anything—but you led me into the locker room. I thought you… liked me. Then you ran off. Did I do something? Because you could’ve told me… I would’ve—”
My spine snaps ramrod straight. Is this what he’s thought all this time?
