Out of the corner of my eye I saw Fin staring at me intently. I had to avoid his eyes, his attention in general. Because every time I felt the urge to look over at him, I also had the urge to tell him I believed he could win too.
Obviously I was out of my mind.
I took one more huge bite of grilled cheese dipped in ketchup and then stood up. “Jameson, text me later about studying. B, I’ll call you later. Sorry to bail on you, but I have to go. Now.”
Britte shot me a sympathetic smile and I knew she’d been eavesdropping earlier. I stepped away from the table and pulled my backpack on again. Ready to bolt, I gave a quick wave to Charlie and Gunner who had engaged some girls at the end of the table in conversation and then last but not least I waved at Fin.
He was holding out a single key and key ring.
I quirked an eyebrow at him, but he just explained, “For tomorrow night. You can let yourself in whenever, just be there in time to start the game. I’ll leave instructions. The game starts at eight, so be there with plenty of time.”
“Aye, aye,” I saluted sarcastically. And then just to piss him off I said, “Gunner, Charlie, Jameson, have a great meet!”
Chapter Eleven
“Hey mom,” I answered my phone against my better judgment as I unlocked Fin’s door. I walked in and dropped my backpack on the couch and headed straight to the refrigerator. The door slammed shut behind me.
“Hey, how are you sweetheart?” My mom cooed over the phone. “Are you at home?”
“I’m good.” I barely got the words out in a breathy whisper. Inside Fin’s refrigerator everything was marked with sticky notes scratched out in his masculine, slanted handwriting. There was a twelve pack of Cherry Coke that said, “I asked Britte what your favorite was.” There was a jar of salsa that said, “Chips are in the pantry.” There was a ketchup bottle front and center that said, “For your pizza. You should have told me last time.”
“I was on the phone with Beckett just five minutes ago and he said he stopped by your apartment but you weren’t home. You’re not avoiding him, are you? Listen honey, I know you’re brothers can be a lot, but they just care about you. That’s how they show you that they love you.”
I know. I wasn’t sure how to answer her without lying to her or snapping at her so I just stayed silent and she kept talking. Apparently she didn’t need me to participate to have a conversation.
My mom kept gabbing in my ear, something about something happening at home. I wasn’t listening, I was rifling through the pantry. Food was everywhere marked with more sticky notes. My favorite though was on the actual door of the pantry, “Don’t even bother looking. You won’t find any Ramen Noodles here. This is a Ramen Noodle safe zone.”
I smiled. I couldn’t help myself. This was the most thoughtful thing anyone had done for me in a long time. And it was just so unexpected from him.
“So what time works for you Saturday?” My mother’s curious tone brought me from my melting.
“Um….” I was stalling and I knew that, but I realized I didn’t know what my silence agreed to.
“I could be there as early as nine, we could get breakfast or coffee before we go,” she pressed.
“Go where? Sorry mom, I was, um, I didn’t hear,” I confessed and then bit my bottom lip nervously.
“Eleanor,” she sighed. “Did you hear anything I said?”
“Everything else,” I promised. “I just, um, spaced out. Sorry, it’s been a long week.” And it would be an even longer night. I was staring at the pile of take-out menus with ratings on them determining what Fin thought I would like best to least. Pizza was on the top. He wasn’t fighting fair anymore.
“I’m coming to visit you this weekend. Grayson is letting me stay at his place. I thought we could go shopping Saturday for some apartment accessories, maybe some more clothes. My treat,” she sounded as excited as I’d ever heard her.
“Oh, mom, I don’t need you to buy me anything. It will just be nice to spend time with you,” I said earnestly. Because if she bought me something for the apartment she would want to come over and see it and then she would walk into empty rooms and mismatched dishes and then she might die of a heart attack.
At the very least I would have to explain what happened to it all.
And I couldn’t do that.
“Well, let’s just start with breakfast and see where the day takes us,” she suggested indulgently. Her tone suggested that she would get her way no matter what but she was placating me for now.
“Ok,” I sighed. By Saturday I would surely have a game plan. “Breakfast sounds good.”
“You sound tired, sweetheart. Are you getting enough sleep? Are you stressed about money?” her voice was all concern and motherly care. It was hard not to feel like a child when she talked to me like that. And not in the condescending way, but in the way where everything I needed was there for me, where I was safe and sheltered from thieving roommates and boys who were threatening to steal my heart.
“I am tired,” I admitted. “And I have a lot of work left tonight.”
“Alright, then I’ll let you go,” she sounded disappointed to have to get off the phone and a little icicle of family resentment melted inside my chest. They did love me. And if I reminded myself, I loved them too. “Goodnight, sweetie.”
“Night, mom. See you this weekend.”
I hung up and then went to work on making a snack and grabbing a Cherry Coke. And then I ordered a pizza to be delivered in an hour and a half using the credit card Fin left behind as promised.
This felt very relationshippy and I wasn’t sure what to think about that. But I went with it. I had analyzed Fin’s motives and attraction to death inside my head and all I could come up with was that he was attracted to me, I put him off, so he became more intrigued and now he was relentless just to save his ego. Even if he didn’t realize that yet.
But my reasons for holding back stood strong. I was not a seven thousand dollar hooker. And I was not emotionally equipped to deal with Fin’s fall out. It was much easier to melt into puddles of goo by his chivalry now than it was to sweep up the pieces of my heart when he would be inevitably finished with me.
I took my snack and sat down at the computer, readying Fin’s for the game that would start in two hours. I had some work to do on the laptop that was designated for me. And yesterday I started getting bad feelings about one of his players for the big game that would happen in a week.
Tonight there were three smaller ones going on simultaneously with four players in each game. I didn’t feel fantastic about any of them, but he would have reminded me that they were playing for small potatoes. He wouldn’t let them into the bigger games either and that’s why they were playing tonight.
I also checked his Facebook. He still hadn’t been on it since he handed over his password to me. It wasn’t like I was updating his status, but the messages I sent out were left untouched and he still hadn’t said anything to me. If he knew what I was doing he might just strangle me.
That hadn’t stopped me from making sure a gaggle of girls were there at his meet tonight. I was shocked by how many messages from his fan club came in wishing him good luck. So of course, I sent each one of them a private message back telling them how much it would mean to me/Fin if they would come cheer me/Fin and Jameson on.
Obviously I included Jameson. He did want a cheer section after all.
I was nothing if I wasn’t a good friend and a granter of wishes.
The pizza came right on time and I devoured three fourths of it by the time the games got underway. Monitoring the games was mindless for me. I didn’t understand anything that was happening with the cards, and so like Fin said, I just made sure nobody was winning tons of money in huge random chunks, or leaving the game abruptly. Basically I had to make sure things happened slowly and progressively. Easy.
By the end of the game, when the big money would be won, Fin would be here and I wouldn’t have to understand what was happen
ing.
I worked on homework in the meantime and took advantage of Fin’s cable. I watched four hours of a Real Housewives of New Jersey marathon before Fin walked through the door. He looked exhausted, but he was freshly showered and dressed in his black sweats and a light blue t-shirt.
I realized after four hours of reality TV that I probably looked worse than he did after an all day track meet in the rain.
Bastard.
I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth checking for drool, food particles or anything else abnormal. I stood up and took a step toward him before taking a step back. I didn’t really know what to do now but suddenly I was extremely nervous.
“Hey,” he greeted. His eyes ran over me, from head to toes. I crossed my arms self-consciously. My v-neck t-shirt was wrinkled and stretched out and my skinny jeans were grease stained from a piece of pepperoni I dropped. Plus after the bowl of ice cream, I snagged one of his hoodies and slipped it on. I thought I would put it back before he got home, but it was so warm and it smelled so good. All in all, this was not my best effort. But Fin stared at me with heated eyes and a relaxed smile on his face, like he was happy to see me. Like he was happy to come home to me.
Ok, crazy person. That was a brain-jump that should never have happened.
I cleared my throat and said, “Hey.” I fidgeted with the extremely long sleeves of the hoodie. Ugh, this was so awkward.
“How are the games going?” he asked from where he still watching me near the door.
I pulled my hair over my shoulder and ran my fingers through the tangled bottoms. I had to yank my fingers through a couple times, but it was easier than looking Fin in the eye. “Good, I think. I mean, for as much as I understand poker, no one seems to be working together or throwing the game or anything.”
“Good,” he said simply. I felt more than saw his gaze leave me and glance around his apartment. “Did you get enough to eat?”
“Yes,” I blushed deeply. He was going to think I was a pig if I kept this up. “Thank you for all the snacks and pop and stuff. That was really sweet of you.”
He ignored me and walked straight to the kitchen. “And the ketchup? Did you find it?”
“It was kind of hard to miss,” I said in a low voice.
Fin opened the refrigerator and then glanced back at me with raised eyebrows. I blushed deeper. He pulled out the left over pizza and put it on a plate to heat it up. There were only three pieces left and I felt really bad since it started out as a large.
“Is that enough food for you? I could make you a sandwich or something,” I offered out of guilt.
Fin seemed to take a few moments to think that over while he covered his pizza with a paper towel and put it in the microwave. “Ok, I could eat a sandwich.”
I rolled my eyes, but obediently walked into the kitchen and started pulling out bread, lunch meat and cheese. “I only offered out of guilt, I didn’t really think you’d say yes.”
“You offered to make me a sandwich, I wasn’t going to say no,” he laughed from behind me. “Besides, you should feel bad. How can someone so small, eat so much?”
I shrugged a shoulder but didn’t turn around. I had wondered that my whole life. In fact, I was more worried about dropping dead from a heart attack than gaining weight. Not that that stopped me from changing my diet. But, my arteries had reason to be concerned.
“What do you want on it?” I asked from where I was slicing cheese.
“Ketchup,” he answered.
I spun around on my heel, a huge smile plastered from ear to ear. “You like ketchup on your sandwiches too?”
Fin’s lips were twitching, his eyes were crinkled slightly in concern but his face was lit up with happiness. “No, I was just kidding. That can’t be a real thing. I thought you would know I was teasing you.”
My shoulders slumped. “Oh, I should have known.
“It’s just ketchup,” he argued like I shouldn’t be disappointed. And I wasn’t really, I was just hopeful to have met another true-ketchup-lover.
“You’re right,” I forced myself to look unfazed and turned around, back to his sandwich.
He opened the refrigerator and then set the ketchup bottle down beside me on the counter. “Why not? I might as well try it, since you’re making me the sandwich.”
“Really? You don’t have to,” I said benevolently. Of course he had to though. It was about to change his life.
“Make me the sandwich you would want to eat,” he answered.
Good answer.
“I’ll need pickles,” I smiled at him. He deserved my smile once more.
He didn’t ask questions, just pulled out the dill chips used for burgers. I finished his sandwich with ketchup smeared on one side of the bread, mustard on the other, smoked turkey, sliced Colby cheese and pickles. This was my creation, my favorite sandwich of all time. “Ta-da! The Burgerwich,” I announced with flare.
He eyed the plate skeptically but dutifully took it when I held it out for him. He stood next to me at the counter, readying himself to take a bite when I nudged him with my hip.
“You’re not going to regret this, Fin,” I promised.
He looked up at me from under his thick eye lashes, hovering over his sandwich. An unreadable emotion passed through his dark eyes before he just gave me a confident smirk and sunk into the sandwich. He chewed for a few sEconds before taking an even bigger bite. His head bobbed up and down with approval and he made an “mmm” noise in the back of his throat.
The pizza sat forgotten in the microwave.
“Ok,” he mumbled around a bite of food. “I’ll give it you. Ketchup on a sandwich makes perfect sense.”
“You’re welcome for changing your life,” I said flippantly. I turned around so that I rested my bum against the counter.
Fin set his sandwich down and stared at me for a moment. “Is that what you think you’ve done?”
“Yep,” I mashed my lips together to hide my smile.
“You are so full of yourself,” he grumbled playfully. He stepped around me, resting his hands on the counter by my hips, trapping me against him and the cabinets.
“We have that in common,” I laughed. I put my hands lightly on his chest, warning him not to get closer. Or at least that’s what I told myself I was doing. Every time I touched the hard, sinewy muscle underneath his t-shirts I practically lost myself in lust.
“What else do we have in common?” he mumbled. He dipped his head down and he ran his nose along my collarbone. His touch was light, tickling and I had to tilt my head to the side against the rush of sensation.
“We both look good in this hoodie,” I offered breathlessly.
“That we do,” he agreed, moving over to the other side and paying attention to the crook of my neck. His warm breath fanned across my bare skin, his lips grazed my throat softly, teasingly, his hands moved from the countertop to my waist and he grasped me against him. Where his lips were gentle and tender, his grip was rough and needy. “What else?”
“We, uh,” it was getting harder to concentrate. I clutched at his shirt so that my hands wouldn’t slip around his neck like they were dying to. “We-“
“We both can’t stop thinking about that kiss the other day.” His voice was a rumble against my ear, low and confident. Before I could deny that, he said, “Ellie I like you in my sweatshirt.”
I cleared my throat nervously. He pressed a kiss to my jawline.
He was making me jelly.
“I like when you make me a sandwich.”
“Well, duh,” I giggled nervously. My breath was as shaky as my resolve. “Anybody would like me to make them a sandwich.”
He nipped playfully at my earlobe and I shivered violently leaning into him until his bite became a wet kiss, sensual…. sexy.
“I like you,” he finally admitted and his tone was so serious, so truthful that I wanted him to take it back immediately.
Those words were the cold bucket of ice I needed. Because no matter w
hat I still owed him money. And even though he liked me I instinctively knew he couldn’t let go of this debt. He needed the money for something important, or necessary, and definitely soon otherwise he wouldn’t have gone to these great lengths to get it from me. He could have pursued legal methods, but that would have taken time. He could have gone to the police, or my brothers, but he valued the money over teaching me a lesson.
“Fin, why do you need the money? Why is it so important,” I asked, my voice as neutral as I felt right now.
He sighed, long and tired against my neck and then rested his forehead on my shoulder. He was defeated and he knew it. I wondered how he would answer me, but that wasn’t nearly as important as reminding me of what our relationship really consisted of.
After several moments of silence, he backed away from me and went back to his sandwich. “I have a down payment deadline of April twenty sixth. I have to make it or I lose something big.”
Vague, but truthful. I could appreciate that.
“And you’re seven thousand dollars short?” I pressed.
“I’m working it out, Ellie. It’s not really your business,” he was snappish with me. He hadn’t been short and rude since the first time we met and I felt my guard go up immediately.
“You’re right, it’s not.”
He ate the rest of his sandwich in silence and I returned to the computer. I had about twenty minutes left but the boundaries had been rebuilt so I felt safe. I was disappointed he didn’t want to be completely honest with me, but he didn’t really have a reason to.
This solidified that what he felt between us was just a curious attraction. I was an itch that needed to be scratched and nothing more.
It shouldn’t hurt, because I knew this all along, but it did. And I hated myself for being such so sensitive. And I hated the clenching in my heart that felt a little like heartbreak. It wasn’t very much, and I knew I would be able to recover easily. But still, disappointment mingled with an aching loss and huge parts of me just wanted to go home, break into my emergency stash of Snickers and crawl under the covers.