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Why, oh why, does everything about this conversation sound like I’m with Nic? Get a grip, Nat.
“I’ve been working for him for just over a year.”
“You’ve known him a lot longer than I have.”
“Oh?”
Finn nods. “I only moved in a few weeks ago.”
“How do you like your apartment?” Asking seems innocuous, the polite thing to do, but Finn’s eyes flare with heat.
“I like it a lot better since yesterday.”
A tiny, pleased smile escapes. “You mentioned your sister,” I prompt. This is a coffee date, and while I don’t have much experience with them—Jeff didn’t like cafés—I want to know more about Finn. Maybe this is second date conversation? Are there rules for this? I should have asked Moira.
“Callie,” says Finn. He smiles a little but there’s tension with it. “Short for Callahan. She’s great. We’re… having a bit of a rough time right now.”
“You sound close.”
“That’s twins for you,” he says.
“Twins!”
He smiles, and it’s lighter this time. “We’ll be twenty-nine this spring. She likes to remind me that I have to get old first.”
“That’s funny.”
“What about you?” he asks. “Any siblings?”
I shake my head. “Only child. I always wanted a sister, but Mom and Dad couldn’t have any more after me. I asked them why they didn’t adopt, but anytime it comes up, they just tell me they were blessed enough with me. I can’t tell if it’s a compliment,” I say, laughing.
“I’m sure it is. Are they… still around?” Finn’s question is hesitant.
“Oh, yeah,” I say, waving a hand. “They still live in the house where I grew up, over in Riverside.” The neighborhood is older but aging well, as far as I can tell. “What about you?”
Finn hesitates. My stomach tightens.
“Our parents are gone,” he says.
“I’m so sorry.” His face is tense. I can’t think of anything else to say to that.
“It was a long time ago,” he says, dismissing the subject without further explanation, waving it away with his hand. “I want to know more about you, Natalie. Tell me what you like.”
Just like that, the air around us changes, charges; the tension from a moment ago turned molten or electric. As though the space between us might ignite. I’ve never felt anything like it before.
“What I like?” My voice is breathless, the words sounding more suggestive than I mean them to. Finn’s blue, blue eyes darken, his lips part.
“I meant that, generally speaking,” he says slowly. “But if you have something else in mind, we can skip the parts about favorite music and movies and go straight to whatever it is you’re thinking about right now that put that look on your face.”
Finn to my left, Nic to my right. Both of them at once.
I shake my head. Finn grins. The heat in that space between us waxes and wanes over the next couple of hours but never fully goes away. His favorite movie is Die Hard—no surprises there—and he favors British pop punk, which I find delightfully specific. He likes the same noir detective stories as I do. Best of all, his gaze doesn’t wander the room like he’s trying to find something better to look at, oh, no. Eyes on me at all times. I spend more than a few minutes wondering what those shoulders look like without his shirt and jacket to obscure, and by the time he kisses my cheek after walking me to my car, I’m officially on cloud nine.
“Dinner Tuesday,” he confirms again. I smile, leaning into him just that extra beat too long.
“Yes,” I say. His grin lights up his whole face.
“Looking forward to it,” he says. “I’ll text you.”
