God, he was beautiful.
During a commercial break, he brought me another beer before I could ask for it.
“You don’t have to keep doing that,” I said. “I can come to the bar.”
“I know, but I like bringing them over.” He glanced around. “Plus, it gives me an excuse to check you out . . . I mean check on you.”
I grinned. “You can check me out all you like, Irish boy.”
“Aww, are you tryin’ to give me a nickname?” He rolled his eyes. “Try again. That was awful.”
“I’ll work on it,” I said, taking a sip. “Shouldn’t you be working?”
“Iamworking. This is customer service.”
“I’m not a customer anymore, am I?”
I was sure he knew I’d meant that playfully, but the words still hung in the air between us, much heavier than I’d intended.
Finn’s expression shifted as something vulnerablecrossed his face. Without a word, he slid into the booth beside me, close enough that I could smell his cologne mixed with the faint scent of lime and beer.
“You’re . . .” he started, then stopped. His eyes searched mine. “You’re . . . to me . . . you’re important.”
My heart did some kind of backflip, lost its balance, then fell on its ass.
“You’re important to me, too,” I said.
The Lightning scored, and the bar erupted around us, but for that one boisterous moment, it felt like we sat in a bubble, just us, sitting close, saying things that mattered.
Then reality crashed back in.
“I should get back to the bar. Benji’s drowning,” Finn said, something regretful in his voice.
“I know.”
But he didn’t move right away. He just looked at me with wide, bright blue eyes. I wanted to pull him closer, to kiss him right there in front of everyone, to tell him he wasn’t just important, that he was everything.
Instead, I squeezed his hand and let him go.
The next day, Diego ambushed me at lunch.
“Out with it,” he said, biting into his sandwich.
“Out with what?”
“Whatever has your head spinning like a top. You think you’ve got a poker face, but you’re about as transparent as a window.”
I pushed my salad around my plate, debating how best to respond. I didn’t want to get into everything with Diego, but he was my best friend. If I couldn’t share with him, who could I talk to? “So . . . I kind of asked Finn a question last night.”
His brows shot up.
“Not that question, idiot.” I shook my head and grinned.
“Okay, fine. What did you ask him, and why is it disturbing my lunch?”
“I asked him what I am to him. I asked if I wasn’t just a customer anymore, then what was I?”
Diego set down his sandwich and fixed me with a father’s gaze, the one when he knew the answer but needed to hear his son say it aloud. “And what did he say?”
