“Are you serious?” one of them asked.
“Completely.” I smiled. “Just . . . give me a second to get back to the table. When I sit down, start recording.”
“Oh my God, yes. Absolutely. We’re ready.” Thepicture-taker was already pulling out his phone again, his friends doing the same.
I walked back to our table, where Finn was watching the group of guys, all of whom now had their phones up, pointed at us.
“Chase,” Finn hissed as I sat down. “What was that? What did you just—”
I didn’t let him finish.
I reached down, grabbed the front of his blue shirt, and pulled him toward me.
Our lips met—right over the empty pot roast plate—right in front of a restaurant full of people and four guys recording us on their phones.
I kissed him deeply, the way I’d wanted to kiss him all night but hadn’t because we were in public and I was trying to be appropriate. When I pulled back, Finn’s eyes were still closed, his lips slightly parted, his face flushed.
“What—” he started.
“If they’re going to take pictures,” I said, “we might as well give them something good.”
Finn blinked.
Then his face broke into a huge smile that made his eyes crinkle and showed all his teeth.
“You’re insane,” he said.
“Probably.”
“That was—you just—in front ofeveryone—”
“I did.”
“And you told them to record it.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because.” I sat back and picked up my water glass. “I like you, and I’m not ashamed of it. In fact, I’m pretty darn proud of it. If the internet wants to watch us be happy, then let them watch.”
Finn blinked at me for a long moment.
Then he started laughing. “You’re insane,” he said again.
“You already said that.”
“It bears repeating.”
From the other table, one of the guys shouted, “THAT WAS PERFECT! Thank you!”
I raised my water glass in a salute. They all raised their beers back.
Finn was shaking his head. “Those are going to be online in, like, thirty seconds.”
“Probably already are.”
“People are going to see them.”
