Page 109 of The Tryout

But now he’s in charge, and no such restriction exists. He starts looking at some of the top restaurants in Des Moines and I can hear his breath catch as he previews some of the menus.

“Finn, we don’t need to go to an award-winning restaurant. Let’s just go to Mr. Tran’s, okay?”

His mind is made up, though, which I can tell by the set of his jaw.

“No. I want this to be a…celebration, you know? We eat at Mr. Tran’s, like, three times a month.”

He’s not wrong, but I find I don’t mind the repetition. Why not celebrate with someone that’s been with you the whole time? Still, he keeps browsing as I lay next to him. Finally, he hands me his phone.

“What about this place?”

Looking at the screen, I see a writeup for a steakhouse nearby. It looks…nice, actually. The food gets high ratings, but the place doesn’t seem too pretentious. It looks like the kind of place I might go with my dads to celebrate something big.

“Looks good to me. When should we go?”

He takes the phone back, poking through the online reservation system.

“Is tonight too soon?”

At first I want to say yes, to give myself a little space between the overwhelming intensity of this morning and being seen in public with Finn. But then, I think back to his performance in Minnesota.

How much time do I really have?

So I agree, and Finn makes a slightly-too-early dinner reservation for two before giving me a coy look.

“Think we have time to shower together before we get ready?”

After a thorough shower in which Finn shows that his knees are just fine on the tile floor, I sift through my closet for something to wear.

I feel a little ridiculous, knowing that Finn probably couldn’t care less about what I wear. I could just put on one of my game day suits, but that would feel too much like going to work. But a pair of jeans and a sweater doesn’t quite feel right either, not celebratory enough.

I end up deciding on a pair of slim-cut black pants, formal but still sexier than anything I’d wear to the arena. I’m still deciding on a shirt when I hear a soft knock at my door. Opening it, I find Finn in a pair of gray pants and a thin white undershirt.

His eyes are a little worried – come to think of it, they probably look just like mine.

“Do you have a sweater or something I can borrow? Everything in my closet makes me look like an accountant.”

As he speaks, I can’t help but notice his eyes scanning downward, grazing over my chest. I can’t help but take a deep breath; might as well give him something nice to look at. As I do, his eyes widen and then meet mine, and I can’t help but smirk.

“Sure, come on in.”

We walk over to my closet, still open from my own search for a shirt. I turn to Finn.

“Hey, you want to help me with something?”

He looks skeptical, which is fair – I’m not sure I’ve ever actually asked him for a favor.

“What?”

“Well, I was having trouble picking out a shirt. Why don’t you pick something for me and I’ll pick something for you?”

He smiles at this and dives right in, heading over to the sweaters. He pushes several aside until he gets to a hunter green cable-knit.

“This one.”

“I didn’t realize you had a favorite.”

His cheeks turn bright pink.