“I was being thoughtful. Don’t you want to be sober for this astonishing date? I assumed you’d want to remember it.”
That dig chafes more than I was expecting.
Instead of replying, I spin on my heels and stalk to the furthest sink. Cold water rushes out of the faucet, and I shove my hands beneath the stream, letting the chill work through me. Finn doesn’t move as he watches, but his stare doesn’t retreat. It remains heavy on me, poking and prodding as I glare into the mirror, hating how worked up I am.
“I didn’t need you to follow me into the bathroom!” I snap, a shudder working down my spine. With a flick of my eyes, I glare at his reflection. “And I don’t need you to micromanage my water intake. I’m a grown woman who can ensure I don’t wind up sloshed on a first date. Especially one that’s actually going well for a change.”
“You don’t have to tell me how well it’s going. I can see that myself.”
I don’t dare remove my fingers from the freezing water, even when they start burning. “So then why are you butting in? I didn’t give any sort of signal for you to interfere.”
“I’m your best friend, Aubrey. I was just looking out for you!”
His composure slips. For a single second, I watch as the muscles in his jaw pulse and his vibrant blue eyes darken, tightening at the corners. The flash of his tongue moves across his lips before disappearing again. I lean against the counter hard enough it bites into my hips.
With a blink, he pulls his shoulders back with what I know has to be false ease. The tips of his fingers rake anxiously through his hair, and those messy pieces stick right back up from where they’ve fallen, recreating the style I spotted earlier. Realization shoots through me as I yank my hands from the sink.
“Well, knock it off,” I force out while my stomach pitches.
His laugh is short and humourless. “Easier said than done.”
“No, it isn’t. This is a date, Finn! It’s actually going well, too. For the first time in a really, really long time, I haven’t shooed this one away or been repulsed by his behaviour. That’s a good thing!”
“Yeah, that’s great, Aubrey. But I’m still going to look after you.”
He crosses his arms, and my anger could turn the water on my fingers to steam when I’m drawn to the stretched sleeves of his shirt. His biceps bunch tightly with the movement, and I can’t swallow my laugh in time. It’s cruel when it explodes out of me. I drop my head back and stare at the speckled ceiling. The moisture pooling between my legs mocks me, coaxing my sense of self-loathing.
“What?” His shoes squeak against the floor. “I’m serious.”
I turn from him and start reefing on the paper towel holder with wet fingers. “Maybe it would be a better idea if you went home.”
“Why?”
“I don’t need a babysitter. We can both assume this is going to be a good date.”
I hear him suck in a breath through his teeth. “So what, then? You don’t want me here because you’re planning on going home with him after?”
With a sharp tug, I rip off a wad of paper towel and scrunch it in my fist. The warning voice in the back of my skull is telling me not to say anything I can’t take back, but it’s overshadowed with booming bitterness. I don’t want to be offended by his question, yet I am, and I hate it. I hate too much of what I’ve been thinking and feeling for the last week, but especially tonight, because I can’t entertain any of it.
Whatever’s going on with me isn’t healthy. It isn’t right. These feelings—or whatever the fuck they are—shouldn’t belong to me.
I don’t know why they’re here, suddenly beckoning me closer to the man whom I’ve always kept firmly in a platonic bubble. The reasoning doesn’t even matter. What does is that they need to disappear before I do something that jeopardizes two decades of friendship. I couldn’t live with myself if I lost him.
“Maybe. I wouldn’t exactly mind it,” I state, utterly calm.
Finn’s hand finds his nape as he wrings it and laughs hollowly. “Should I expect your thanks now, then, or in the morning?”
“Go home, Finn.”
“You don’t have to rush this,” he says, taking a single step closer and pointing at the bathroom door. “If going back out there and finishing this date will make you happy, then fine. Butyou don’t need to rush into anything just because you need a date to the gala. Please don’t go home with him.”
My throat squeezes beneath the weight of an invisible hand. I almost can’t look at him once his posture goes slack, and that scowl relaxes into a straight, blank line. The paper towel in my hands feels repulsive when I relax my fist and then drop it into the garbage.
I’d rather he yell at me. Would rather he do anything besides stare at me like he doesn’t care.Like I’m looking at him.
His cheeks are flushed, and I struggle to hide a flinch when he straightens again. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m probably too tired to be here anyway. Let me know when you get home so I don’t worry.”
“Thank you,” I blurt, swallowing thickly.
