‘I don’t know. I’ve been listening to Taylor Swift’s “22” a lot lately. It suddenly feels relevant.’ I try to sound cheeky.
He stares at me. Then he passes my phone back.
‘I’m making you a new playlist,’ he mutters.
‘What’s wrong with Taylor Swift?’
‘Nothing. She’s a brilliant songwriter, but that’s not the point.’
I shrug, trying to play it cool as I place the last of his order on the bar, but inside I’m thrilled at the thought of him making me a personalised playlist.
There’s a whistle from across the room. ‘Oi! Finnegan! Get a move on!’ Tarek hollers.
‘Come get them!’ he shouts back, retrieving his wallet from his pocket.
He settles up and grabs his Coke, making no attempt to leave.
Tarek weaves between a bunch of people to reach us, his thick dark brows etched into a scowl, but then he and Finn grin at each other and he gathers up the three other glasses, nodding at me before dodging his way back through the crowd.
Finn meets my eyes, amused.
‘I had completely forgotten that your surname is Finnegan,’ I say, continuing our conversation as I get on with pouring a pint of pale ale for another customer.
‘Finn Finnegan,’ he confirms, pursing his lips. ‘I keep thinking about changing my name to my dad’s surname, Lowe.’
‘Ah, but Finn Finnegan has such a nice ring to it,’ I point out playfully, dispensing single shots of whisky.
‘You do know my real name is Daniel, right?’
‘Is it?’ I ask with surprise as I top up the whiskies with Coke.
‘There were four other Daniels in our year – including thatone over there.’ He nods over his shoulder at Dan. ‘So everyone called me Finn. I don’t think even my mother would be so demented as to call me Finn Finnegan on purpose.’
I can’t help the small gasp that escapes from my throat.
Finn gives me a flat look. ‘It’s taken years of therapy for me to be able to say that flippantly. What have you been up to this week?’ he asks, changing the subject.
‘Not much. Working. Hanging out with my family.’ I ring up the total for my customer and pass him the card reader. ‘I went to the beach yesterday with Amy and Rach. You?’
‘I went to the beach yesterday too – Porthleven, surfing, with Dan and Chris. I’ve dropped in a couple of times, but I haven’t seen you.’
Was he looking for me?
‘So, will you come to the beach?’ he asks, eyes locked on mine.
It’s low tide and the sea is a slab of black lined with streaks of white from the surf, visible under the light of the full moon. It makes me think of marble, and that, in turn, makes me think of Italy.
‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Finn says in my ear, making me jump.
I glance over my shoulder, wondering how he escaped the fangirls who followed us down here. They’re still ten metres or so behind, too far to see if they’re shooting daggers.
‘I was just thinking about Italy,’ I tell him as he offers me the bottle he’s carrying, then chuckles and pats my back as I cough from the vanilla vodka.
Amy and Rach are bantering nearby with Dan, Tarek andChris, but I wandered away from them a while ago, seeking solitude.
‘What were you thinking about Italy?’ Finn asks as I return the bottle to him.
‘Nothing. It’s not very interesting.’
