Finn let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “So… we like each other, we want time together, but we still have to mingle.”
Maurice laughed, more an exhale than a sound. “Yeah. Torture for both of us.”
Finn grinned. “I can handle that if you can.”
Maurice stepped closer, slow, as if he was checking Finn wouldn’t pull back. The warmth coming off him hit Finn before anything else did. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m planning on stealing you after the dance.”
Finn grinned. “I’ll let you.”
Maurice’s eyes grazed over his face, searching. “What did Mr. Santos want?”
“He asked me to move into Theo’s room.”
Maurice’s brows pulled together. “Why would he ask you to do that?”
“Theo and his roommate didn’t get along. I don’t mind. He’s really a great guy.”
“He is.” Maurice paused. “I know David thinks so.”
Finn nudged him with his shoulder. “Are you going to tell me what I left behind in here?”
Maurice’s gaze dropped for a second, as if he were deciding how honest to be. “An unfinished evening with me last night.”
Finn’s breath caught. “I didn’t want to leave, but you didn’t ask me to stay.”
“I wanted you to stay. I just… pushing you too soon felt like the wrong move.”
Finn stepped in, close enough that their arms brushed. “Just ask next time and see what I want.”
Maurice nodded. “Would you like to leave the train to go out for dinner tonight with me?”
“Really?” Finn had no idea the train stopped long enough for them to have dinner outside of the train. “I’d love to.”
“We each need to get a token so we can return. It’s in the brochure in small print. We’ll be stopping in Chicago at six and need to return by eight, then at nine there’s the dance.”
“Oh, I guess I missed that.”
“What’s your answer, Mr. Andersen?” Maurice dipped his head, letting his forehead rest against Finn’s for a moment.
“Yes, Mr. Dubois.” Touching foreheads with Maurice sent chills down his body. So intimate. Finn barely had time to breathe before Maurice leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose. It was soft, warm, and so unexpectedly tender Finn’s chest fluttered.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Maurice asked.
“Yes,” Finn whispered, because his voice didn’t seem capable of anything louder.
Maurice stood, moving with that calm, deliberate confidence Finn kept pretending didn’t affect him. The small lamp on the dresser cast a warm amber glow across the room, catching the perfectly folded suit jacket draped over a chair. Everything in Maurice’s room looked intentional, orderly, and grown-up. Finn felt like he’d stepped into someone’s real life, not just a train cabin.
Maurice poured wine into two glasses—actual glasses, not plastic cups—and Finn’s brain snagged on that detail. Of course, Maurice had real glassware. Of course he did.
He handed Finn a glass and sat beside him on the bed. The mattress dipped under Maurice’s weight, and Finn’s pulse jumped at the closeness. The sheets smelled like cedar and something clean—Maurice’s cologne, probably. Finn tried not to inhale too obviously.
“You never told me what you do,” Finn said, mostly to distract himself from staring at Maurice’s mouth.
“I’m a criminal defense attorney in Charlottesville and the founder of Dubois & Associates, a growing firm with several attorneys under my leadership.”
Finn blinked. “That’s impressive.”
And it was. Too impressive. Immediately, that familiar pinch of unworthiness crept in like he’d somehow tricked his way into being here, into being wanted by someone who had his life so together. Finn took a sip of wine to hide the feeling, but it sat heavy in his chest anyway.
