"Finn." Elena's voice had softened. "I know these events seem pointless. But they're part of the job. They’re the part that ensures we can continue doing the work that matters."
He saw the determination in her eyes. He had to go. "Fine," he'd conceded. "But I'm not dancing."
Something flashed across her face. She regained composure quickly and said, "No dancing required. Just be yourself. Well, maybe twenty percent less blunt than usual."
Now, a week later, Finn found himself regretting that capitulation. He should have fought harder, should have found a compelling reason why his presence would be detrimental rather than beneficial.
The walk to her car was silent, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. Outside, the evening air was cool against his face, the sky already darkening into twilight. Elena's car, a sedan with a child's soccer sticker on the back window, was parked in her reserved spot.
"You can adjust your seat," she said as he folded his tall frame into the passenger side. Elena started the engine, the radio coming to life with fast-paced Latin music. She adjusted the volume down but didn't turn it off completely.
"You're nervous," she observed, glancing at him as she navigated out of the parking lot.
"What gave it away?" he asked sarcastically.
"You've checked your watch six times in the last two minutes," she said.
He hadn't realized she was watching him so closely. He let his hands fall to his lap, forcing them to be still.
"It's just a dinner, Finn," she said, her voice gentle, "A few hours of making nice with people who have the power to fund our research for the next five years. No big deal."
"Right. No pressure at all." He stared out the window, watching the university buildings give way to residential streets. "What if I say the wrong thing? What if they criticize our new protocol?"
"Then you'll be nice and suck up to them, with a smile of course.”
This was going to be terrible.
"Speaking of that. Is Paul going to be there?" Finn casually inquired.
“Oh, he’ll be there. Lurking. Staring. Waiting for the perfect moment to interrogate us about our data methodology.” Elena replied.
That almost made him smile. As they turned onto Elena’s street, Finn felt a new kind of nervousness taking over. He was about to enter Elena's personal space. Not just her car or her office, but her home.
"We're here," she said, pulling into a driveway beside a modest house with a front porch strung with lights.
"Miguel should be home from his study group. I'll just be a few minutes to change, then we can head to your place so you can get ready too."
Finn nodded, looking up at the house.
"Finn?" Elena's voice pulled him back. "Are you coming?"
He unbuckled his seatbelt, his mouth suddenly dry. "Yes. Of course."
The front door swung open before Elena could find her keys. Miguel stood in the entryway, headphones draped around his neck, eyeing them with a teenage suspicion that suggested they'd interrupted something important. "You're early," he said to his mother, then his gaze settled on Finn. "Hey."
"We're not early," Elena replied, moving past him into the house. "You lost track of time again. Remember I told you we'd be stopping by before the event?" She gestured Finn inside. "You remember Finn."
Miguel's expression was unreadable. "Yeah. The weird guy that somehow spends more time in the lab than you."
"That’s what they call me," Finn replied.
Elena smiled and disappeared down a hallway with a quick, "I'll just be a few minutes," leaving Finn alone with Miguel in the entryway.
The silence stretched between them, thick with mutual discomfort.
Finn finally caved. “May I sit?”
“You may.” Miguel gestured to what appeared to be the most uncomfortable chair in the living room.
