“Deal.” For a moment, I let myself drink him in so I’d remember us just like this—sprawled in my bed like we belonged, still naked under the covers. Last night’s heat had mellowed into something quieter under my skin, the gentle tug of a current.
When I rolled out of bed, he whistled like a stereotypical construction worker in a low-budget comedy. I glanced over my shoulder and found him smirking, mischief and something sweeter dancing through his expression. “Come here often?” he asked.
Idiot.I swallowed a chuckle and slipped into a pair of sweatpants. “Yeah, ’bout once a day. I might up the frequency if the hot guy in my bed becomes a regular part of the package.”
Casual enough, right?
He tilted his head, curls a riot against the pillow and a grin still tucked into the corners of his eyes. “Ah—seems you’re ready to discuss subscription plans.”
Yes, please.Except he probably didn’t mean it as a relationship metaphor and more as a throwback joke about hourly rates and background checks, so I made a show of weighing the idea. “Depends on what’s included. I’m a discerning customer.”
“Are you?” He stretched with a lazy roll of his hips, a move so deliberate I damn near forgot about making him coffee. A smug tilt to his lips said he knew it, too. Usually, I didn’t find arrogance attractive—but with Finn, it wasn’t arrogance, not really. It was playfulness, a cheeky kind of charm with subtle traces of uncertainty woven through, easy to miss if you didn’t pay attention.
“Yeah.” I let my mouth quirk. “For instance, a cuddling surcharge would be a red line. Pet names, on the other hand, are negotiable.”
“What if—” Finn flapped a hand, his TV marketeer act interrupted by another yawn. “What if I includedbothin your package and also threw in unlimited orgasms?”
“Sounds too good to be true.” Oh, did it ever.
“Jesse.” He shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. “Are you trying to wrangle a free trial out of me?”
“Never. Show me the dotted line and I’ll sign right now.” This felt dangerously close to things I wasn’t sure I should say just yet, so I tagged on an easy chuckle. “But first? Coffee.”
“Solid prioritization.”
I took another look at him—sprawled lazily in my bed, a little tired but bright-eyed—then made myself move before I could do something stupid. Like ask him to stay forever.
On my way to the kitchen, I detoured to grab my near-dead phone from my jacket.
How did it go?
I replied while heating the water. Pour-over wasn’t so much fancy as reliable—grind, paper filter, slow spiral of hot water that bloomed into dark circles. A ritual.
It went well. Both okay—one will need more surgery.
I hesitated, but who else would I tell if not Shane?
Finn came home with me after. Think I’m in love with him.
My fingers hovered, as if sending the words made them somehow more real.I pressed down, exhaled, and replied to another message from my mom about Thanksgiving. Coffee dripped in a steady rhythm, time for my thoughts to catch up. I hadn’t planned to fall in love. Not yet anyway, not while I was still figuring out my career and the next five years.
And then… Finn.
Shane must have been on a break between lessons because he answered just as I poured the coffee into two cups—black for Finn, one sugar for me and a second after I decided to indulge today.
Wow
Shane wrote, and I could just picture his wide-eyed expression, played up for a bunch of kids.
Not totally surprised, but that’s big. You tell him yet?
A second message followed right after.
And congrats on the surgery!!! Saving lives, one twin at a time.
Thanks. Novak said I did well. :)
The memory sat warm in my chest, still fresh enough to matter.
