Chapter Fifteen
Finn
Finn hadn’t meant totake Maurice’s hand. It just happened—as Maurice’s hand skimmed against his, something in Finn jumped—small, sharp, impossible to play off. And when Finn took his hand, Maurice didn’t pull away. He looked down at their joined hands as if he couldn’t believe it either.
“I want to have a conversation with you alone,” Maurice said, but his eyes… yeah, those gave him away. A little too warm. A little too hungry.
“But where?” Finn asked.
“Your room or mine?”
“Your room.” Finn’s room was a mess. The scent of cedar wood and a high-end laundry detergent clung to Maurice’s room. Simple choice.
They started down the narrow hall, brushing shoulders, Finn trying not to grin like an idiot. Maurice kept glancing at him with his quick little side looks, like he was checking to make sure Finn was still there. Still choosing him. Maurice’s looks traveled all the way down his spine.
Then a voice cut through the hallway.
“Finn!”
Finn turned, already knowing who it was.
Mr. Santos paced toward them with a purposeful, businesslike stride. “Sorry to interrupt you two,” he said, slightly out of breath, “but I need to discuss something privately with Finn.”
Maurice’s jaw tightened, but it was the way his fingers curled a little too hard around his before he let go that gave him away. His shoulders pulled in, as if he were bracing for something he didn’t want to hear. Finn had seen that look before when he’d talked to Caleb, and it hit the same quiet note of don’t go yet.
“Let me add my phone number to your phone so you can call me when you’re done,” Maurice said.
Finn handed his phone over, watching those long fingers move across the screen—quick, precise, a little tense. Then Maurice passed his own phone to Finn.
“Add your number to mine, please.”
Finn typed slowly, each tap feeling weirdly important, a knot tightening low in his stomach at how intimate the moment suddenly was. Like they’d stepped over some invisible line without even talking about it.
When they traded phones back, Maurice leaned in, minted breath brushing Finn’s ear. “Don’t be too long.”
Finn swallowed. “I won’t.”
Maurice walked away, glancing back once. Finn caught the look—the one that said, ‘I want you with me, not with him.’
A weird drop rolled through his chest, as if his body had gotten news his brain hadn’t processed yet.
Mr. Santos cleared his throat, the way he did when he was about to drop something unexpected. “Would you be willing to move into Theo’s room and be roommates?”
Finn blinked. A roommate? Now? He wasn’t against it since he liked Theo, actually liked him a lot, but the question still landed sideways. “Why?” he asked, mostly to buy a second to catch up.
“Theo’s current roommate had an argument with him and asked to be moved. Theo asked me if you could be his roommate. Of course, we’ll refund part of your money for a single.”
“Oh.” Finn’s eyebrows went up. He hadn’t seen this coming. He’d been fine in his own room, and he didn’t exactly crave company, but Theo was good people. And Theo had a crush on Maurice’s best friend, which made him feel safe in a way without any weird tension, no mixed signals. Just… a friend. Something he could use.
Still, a tiny thought nudged him: would having a roommate make things weird with Maurice? Would it cut into the little moments they barely had?
“I don’t mind sharing a room with Theo at all,” Finn said, and he meant it. He just hoped it didn’t complicate the one thing on this train he actually wanted.
“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” Mr. Santos’s smile spread, all approval and relief, as if Finn had just solved a problem. “
“What room is he in?”
“Room 120. Next car from yours.”
