Lena:Yep. Just got back from my date. He was a bore. And he smelled like he bathes in grape jelly.??
Lena:Where are you? How was your surprise?
Millie:Perfect. We had a private croissant lesson with Maggie. I’m bringing home all the tips and tricks.
Lena:No way. Finn is nothing but green flags!
Millie:I know.
Millie:Do you think you could let Pepper sleep in your room tonight?
Lena:Of course, but where will you be?
Millie:At Finn’s. I’ll be back early tomorrow before work.
Lena:I’m sorry, WHAT?
Lena:You explain right now, woman.
Lena:Don’t do this to me. You know how nosy I am.
Her last few texts come in a flurry, and my fingers freeze over the screen as I try to decide what to say back. How do I wrap everything up in a quick text?
The realization that Finn has nothing to do with my interview process is an immense relief. I can step into my trial run next week with the knowledge that I’ve done nothing to negatively impact my chances.
I’m still going to make him pay for not telling me sooner, but at least I can move forward knowing that I’m not doing anything wrong.
Finn opens the door, and I drop my phone to the bed like he just caught me doing something suspicious. He’s holding two glasses of water and an extra phone charger as he pauses in the doorway, and his eyes land on his shirt hanging over my body. His gaze tracks over every detail before he clears his throat, hands me the water, and plugs in a charger for me.
The bedroom carpet is soft under my feet as he leads the way to his giant bathroom and pulls out a new toothbrush.
We do a sequence of mundane things together: We brush our teeth, Finn turns on the lamp, I plug in my phone, and we both lift the duvet on our own sides to slip between the cool sheets.
But none of it feels mundane at all when it’s across from the person who stars in all my daydreams and fantasies.
Finn leans against the headboard, shirtless but still wearing his glasses, with his hair a little mussed, and I can confirm that it’s the sexiest thing a man could possibly do.
I can’t keep staring at that view, so I focus on the ceiling. We’re in bed together, Finn’s bare skin inches away from me, and we literally just made out like the world was ending. But suddenly everything feels like too much. My view shifted too substantially over the last hour, and I can’t process this new reality. I wiggle my feet, and my hands twist on my stomach as I try to control my breathing.
“Are you nervous?” he asks.
Those are the same three words he said to me in that meeting weeks ago. The same three words that I assumed he meant with mockery.
But it’s just Finn, checking on me because he’s worried about me, not because he’s coldhearted.
In fact, he’s completely the opposite.
His hand finds mine under the covers, and he brings it out to his lips, kissing the back once before setting it on his chest. “Tell me what’s on your mind. We can figure it out together.”
That gentle reassurance soothes my nerves a little. “I’m scared. About a lot of things, really.”
He sets his glasses on the nightstand and scoots down to lie next to me. Then he turns on his side and nudges my arm until I do the same, and we face each other with our hands between us. “Let’s go through them one at a time,” he says.
Explain what’s raging through my anxiety-ridden brain? Where do I even start?
“What are we doing?” I ask.
A small grin curves his lips. “What do you think we’re doing?”
