Finn:Getting real sick of this cat and mouse bullshit you’re pulling.
Finn:Hickory dickory dock, the mouse ran up the clock, the clock struck one, the mouse ran down, and I knocked his fucking teeth down his throat.
Finn:That mouse from my last text? That’s you, Moore.
The sun begins to crest,the sky taking on a mix of blue and gray. Clouds haze over the color, and the fog that came with last night’s storm starts to disperse. Driving in the early morning hours is my favorite. There’s this calmness, a sort of tranquility,that’s never present at any other time of day. When the sun is up, people are busy, always living an hour into the future. I can’t say I’m not one of them, but Ihaveto think three days ahead.
I reach forward and change the station to get the undesirable thoughts out of my head. Classic rock fills the car, Purple Haze in particular. I roll the window down, hoping if Jimi Hendrix can’t distract me, the balmy breeze will.
It all flies out the window when I pull into Harrison Shipping’s parking lot thirty minutes later and spot Finn Lincoln. I think about driving back to Sebastian’s apartment—I’m having a hard time calling it home—to wash the worry down the drain in the expensive as fuck ensuite bathroom, but then guilt catches me.
Mom needs my help.
That, and Finn isn’t someone you can get away with ignoring.
It’s up to me to pick up the pieces if I want to one day be free. I need to deal with this head on, but it makes me wish I were in the gym, pounding my fists into the boxing bag to relieve the stress of it all. It helps to have a release since I’m not like most other guys my age. I rarely party, I don’t do drugs, and only drink on occasion. Growing up with both around stripped away the fun of it. So much so that it lacks appeal to me now.
Every once in a blue moon, I have one and cap it at that. Having a single beer the other night with Sebastian and his friends was the first I’ve had in ages. Booze isn’t the only memory from that night that seems to fill my mind.
Seeing Violet in that tub, water dripping down her body while she tried to cover herself was the exact reminder I didn’t need about my love life.
Fuck.
She looked goddamn marvelous. I can tell she hits the gym frequently from the glimpses I got of her toned abdomen andupper thighs. And that ass in the leggings she wore when she finally joined everyone in the living room…
Yeah, I’ve thought about it more than once. Had circumstances been different, I would’ve dropped to my knees and given us both what we needed in that moment: a release that would’ve been far too good for either of us to walk away from.
I’m quick to find a spot close to Finn and park.
I secure the backpack that holds my lunch and extra pair of clothes on both shoulders when I get out of the car. That quick, he crowds me in, the scent of a pack of smokes following behind him.
“You ignoring me, Moore?”
Finn’s voice twines around me like thread on a bobbin. I turn to face him, catching one of his cronies at the car across the lot.
“What are you doing here?” I hiss, pissed beyond comprehension.
This is my job. I don’t need him prancing around. I don’t want their lifestyle imprinted on what people think of me. I’d rather not risk any of my coworkers knowing them. It’s not a good look to be caught talking to one of them for any reason. No part of me wants to be seen with a Lincoln. They’re bad news in Harrison Heights, and I don’t need my name or face associated with them.
There’s a glee in his eyes I don’t like that ignites a fire in my mind, and makes my fists clench in irritation when I prop my hands on my hips.
My teeth scrape over my bottom lip as I try to hold it together and repeat myself. “What’re you doing here, Finn?”
He pushes a hand through his long, ash brown locks that crowd his face. It’s layered in the same way he’s worn it since junior high. My eyes catch the sleeves of tattoos covering his arms. “I’m just here to make sure you got my message. Technology can be a pain in the ass.”
I hate how nonchalant he says it. Hate it even more that we’re having this conversation.
I didn’t get his message because, “My phone is out of minutes.”
His brows lift and he leans against the car in the neighboring spot. “No shit. Well, you know how I feel about bridges, and I don’t particularly enjoy having to cross over to this side of the river if it can be avoided.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say. I have other shit going on.” Like moving into Sebastian’s and getting reacquainted with my new roommates and settling into a space where I have no business being. “I didn’t have time to deal with it yet.”
He shakes his head. “You fucking people never fail to surprise me. You’d rather work for shit wages. Stress your pathetic lives away, and for what if you can’t even afford to keep your goddamn phone active?”
I stare at him because I’ve known Finn long enough to know that the question is rhetorical. He’s not here to shoot the shit. Nor is he here to chat about the economy or how minimum wage needs to be doubled to be considered a living wage. He doesn’t care if I work myself into a grave. He’s come to remind me that I’m up shit’s creek.
He tugs at his lip ring with his teeth, gazing at me all the while as his eyes resurface the figurative scars on my chest that I’ve tried to heal since the last time I saw him.
