The guy laughed, oblivious.“I’m Caleb.” He offered a hand.
Finn shook it. “Finn. Boston. Professional flirt.”
A slow smirk tugged at one corner of Caleb’s mouth. “Is that a job?”
“Only if I get good at it.”
Caleb held his gaze a beat too long, not smoldering, not curious, just… assessing. Like he was checking Finn against a mental checklist. The warm flutter in Finn’s chest cooled another degree.
He didn’t make a scene. Didn’t call him anything. He just let the moment slide off him. Plenty of men here. Plenty of sparks waiting to catch. Finn flashed a polite smile, scanning the room for his next conversation. He was here to mingle, not get stuck in someone else’s awkward energy.
Bright green glasses, nervous smile—the guy still hadn’t worked up the courage to step closer. Something about the way he hovered at the edge of the crowd tugged at Finn’s chest, so Finn moved his way.
“Hi,” the guy said, voice barely above the music. “I, um… like your bracelets.”
Finn lifted his arm, so the stack of colors slid down and clacked. “Thanks! Made them myself. Want one?”
The guy’s eyes went wide behind those neon frames. “Really?”
“Sure. Pick your favorite color.”
He hesitated as if it were a trick question, then pointed at the purple one, almost apologetic. Finn slipped it off and onto his wrist, and the guy admired it like Finn had just handed him something priceless instead of the handmade bracelet.
“I’m Theo,” he said, still staring at the bracelet like it might disappear.
“Finn,” he said. “And you’re adorable.”
Theo flushed pink all the way to the tips of his ears. Finn had a little twist of sympathy for this sweet guy, too soft for a room full of loud strangers. He gave him a warm smile before drifting back into the crowd, hoping the bracelet made him a little less awkward and alone.
Finn barely made it three steps before an athletic blond guy stepped into his path as if Finn were a ball he planned to intercept. Good-looking, sure, but he had that smug, locker-room-king air that made Finn’s shoulders tense on instinct.
“Hey, handsome.” The guy shot Finn a once-over, but more like a scan than a compliment. “Are you traveling alone?”
“Yep,” Finn said, keeping it light. “You?”
“Rooming with my ex,” the guy groaned, loud enough for people nearby to hear. “We thought it’d be fine.” He paused. “It’s not fine.”
Finn laughed. “Sounds like ayouproblem.”
“Oh, it is,” the guy said, leaning in just a little too close. “But you’re cute enough to distract me from him.”
There it was, that pushy edge under the charm. The way he talked, as if Finn were a solution instead of a person. Finn sipped his drink, letting the citrus fizz give him an excuse not to answer right away.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, even though it landed like a red flag rather than a flirtation. The guy was easy on the eyes, sure, but the attitude? Hard pass.
“By the way, my name is Gage, from New York. Room 113.”
Finn kept moving, letting the conversations swirl around him, letting the liveliness of the train settle into his bones. He felt alive, electric, exactly as if he was in his own element. But for now? He flirted. He sparkled. He soaked in every second of the gay heaven pulling outof New York City.
The train rolled into Newark only thirty minutes after leaving New York, and Finn barely had time to finish his second drink before the doors opened again. Five guys in black boarded the train as if the world tilted in their direction—matching hoodies, heavy boots, gold chains, the whole “don’t mess with us” vibe. They didn’t look like anyone in the Pride crowd.
Did they hop on the wrong train? Like… wildly wrong?
Their arrival paused conversations. Glasses clinked harder. A couple of heads snapped up, instinctively checking for trouble or at least a disruption worth watching.
One of them met Finn’s eye but didn’t smile. Another nudged his friend and whispered something, and all five of them laughed, making Finn’s stomach tighten. Then the guy closest to him shifted his stance, planting a boot on the low metal rail along the aisle—casual on the surface, but angled just enough to block Finn’s path. Another lifted his chin at Finn, slow and deliberate, like a challenge.
And then came the final straw: the tallest one tapped two fingers against his own wrist, mimicking Finn’s rainbow bracelets, and smirked at his friends as if he’d just made the punchline of a joke.
