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T W E N T Y T H R E E
- Maeve -
From Finn’s superb company during dinner to his insistence that I finish his Baileys cheesecake, it was the best date I’d been on in a long time.
There was something about his disarming company that made me forget what a vibrating bundle of stress I usually was. Maybe it was the way he kept stealing glances at my lips. Maybe it was the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he thought I said something funny. Or maybe it was the fact that he seemed more interested in listening to me than coming up with his next clever quip. Whatever it was, by the time dinner ended, I had no qualms about going back to his place. Butterflies, yes. But qualms? No.
“I should warn you,” he said, as he stuck his key in the door. “Otis has a habit of making intruders feel unwelcome. But I assure you he’s highly trained, and I promise I won’t let him harm you.”
“What?” I asked, my relaxed buzz fading as my mind reeled with questions like how come you didn’t mention this sooner and who the hell names a scary dog Otis? But it was too late to object.
Finn pushed the door open, flicked the lights on, and no sooner had I hid behind him than a scruffy lapdog came bounding around the couch in the open plan room. His tail was wagging at high speed and the way his tongue hung from his smiling mouth suggested he could’ve equally been named Butterscotch or Friendly-the-Furball.
“Oh my God, he’s so cute,” I said, dropping to my knees to greet him, his whole body wiggling back and forth like he’d just had his batteries changed.
“Please don’t say stuff like that in front of him,” Finn said, throwing his coat on the hook beside the door. “It goes straight to his head, and you do not want to be around him when he’s acting like a diva.”
“Yes I do!” I said, scratching the adorable mutt’s furry cheeks. “I want to be around him all the time!”
“Spoken like someone who’s never had to pry their underwear from his iron jaws,” he said, turning towards the open kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Sure.” I glanced up, my eyes fixating on his butt as he crossed the light-colored hardwood floors. “What would go best with the film?”
“Whatever you have a taste for,” he said, opening the fridge.
I gave Otis one more enthusiastic rub atop his head before hooking my coat beside Finn’s and debating whether I should keep my heels on. It seemed too formal after Otis’s warm greeting, though, so I set them neatly beside the door. “What are you going to have?” I asked, wandering over to the square island.
The place wasn’t at all what I expected. It was smartly furnished and clean, minimalist but masculine at the same time. And not only was the art on his walls custom framed, it wasn’t all concert posters. In fact, the only music-themed images included the iconic photo of Joe Strummer smashing his guitar and a small print of the Picasso with the abstract instruments in it.
“I’m going to have a beer,” he said, popping one open for himself. “But if you want to stick with gin, I can make you whatever you like.”
“Beer’s fine,” I said, resting my hands on the counter.
He slid the open one across to me and turned to grab another from the fridge.
“I like your place,” I said, looking around some more. He had a guitar stand beside the couch and a keyboard by the window in the breakfast nook. It seemed an odd spot for it, but I guess he was a skilled enough musician that he could play and enjoy his nice view at the same time.
“Thanks.” He grabbed the bottle caps off the counter and tossed them in the pullout garbage.
I looked down to find Otis sitting politely beside me like I had a pocket full of bacon. How was this guy single? Between his musicianship and Otis, he must’ve been swamped by female attention every time he left the house.
“Shall we?” Finn gestured behind me towards the floating leather couch, which was a tawny shade that matched his short facial scruff.
I nodded and went to take a seat, realizing before I even got comfortable that he wasn’t joking about the size of his flatscreen. As soon as I got situated, Otis jumped up and sat beside me, his pink tongue hanging out like it was him I’d come to see.
“I think he likes you,” Finn said, dimming the lights.
I rubbed the top of his head between his floppy ears. “I like him, too.” When I looked up, Finn was staring at us with a perplexed expression on his face. “So do I need any background info to enjoy the movie?”
“Don’t think so,” he said, relaxing back on the other side of Otis as he navigated the onscreen menu with the remote. “Just know the whole thing is basically a long, improvised joke.”
“I’ll try to keep an open mind.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “You can’t ruin it for me.”
I laughed. “Good to know.”
“But if you absolutely hate it…”
