Page 76 of Business or Pleasure

It’s too nice, being held like this.

I try not to think about whether that niceness has an expiration date, if we’ll still talk once he goes back to Hollywood and I go back to Seattle. If the extent of our friendship at that point will be me watching him on a TV screen, him no longer answering my texts because he’s surrounded by more interesting people.

“Jesus, it’s almost three in the morning,” I say when I catch sight of the clock on the nightstand. “We should get some sleep.”

He seems a bit jarred by the way I suddenly push away, but he doesn’t argue. “Just don’t touch me with your weird socked feet.”

Of course, I can’t resist doing exactly this. “At least I’ll be warm.”

chapter

twenty

SOMEWHERE IN SOUTH-CENTRAL OHIO

I wake to the scent of maple syrup.

“Hope you don’t mind that I made you a plate,” Finn says from across the room. “I was up at an ungodly hour, and the good stuff was going fast. Didn’t want you to miss out.”

“Oh—thank you.” I drag a palm across my face, smoothing the last blurred edges of sleep. It’s the first time he’s seen me in the morning, and I have to fight the urge to rush to the bathroom to make myself look presentable, raking a hand through my hair and scrubbing at my teeth with an index finger.

The aforementioned plate waits on the table in front of the fireplace, and plate is too tame a term. Epic brunch feast is more like it, piled high with pancakes and waffles, potato wedges, scrambled eggs, crispy peppered bacon, and at least five kinds of cheese.

“I also wasn’t sure what you might want, so I just got a bit of everything.”

“It’s perfect.” My growling stomach answers in kind. “They really don’t skimp on the ‘breakfast’ part of B and B, huh?”

The storm hasn’t let up, and after breakfast, when we call a tow truck for the rental car, we’re told they probably can’t dig it out until tomorrow. I’ve always loved the snow and we don’t get nearly enough of it in Seattle, and now that we’re no longer stuck driving in it, I seize the opportunity to go for a walk. Finn has a virtual therapy appointment and some email to catch up on and promises he’ll meet up with me later.

Probably for the best. It’ll give me a chance to clear my head, untangle some of these feelings. Because even if Finn and I haven’t been together 24/7, I haven’t felt truly alone in a while. If we’re not in the same room, then I’m usually working on his book. Whether he’s next to me or not, he’s always in my head.

That has to be the explanation for why I’m feeling this odd attachment to him. I simply haven’t talked to another single guy in weeks.

When he doesn’t join me and doesn’t send any texts, I head back, picking up two mugs of hot cocoa in the lobby before going up to our room. I knock once, just to make sure he knows I’m coming in.

And nothing in the world could prepare me for what I see next.

Finn’s sitting in one of the armchairs, grinning into his laptop camera and holding up a peace sign. “What up, Mason, this is Finn Walsh, and I just wanted to say that you’re going to absolutely crush your Spanish exam next week, just like Caleb, Meg, Alice, and I crushed that horde of banshees that—”

“What are you doing?”

I’ve never seen a grown man look so frightened. He jumps a literal half foot before smashing his laptop shut with more force than is necessary. “Oh god,” he says, burying his head in his hands. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

My eyes flick between him and the closed laptop. Trying to hold back a laugh, I ask, “Are you filming a Cameo?”

Finn nods miserably. “It’s embarrassing. I don’t get that many requests, but I try to do a decent job with the ones that do come in.”

“I’m sure they’re great.”

“You’re trying really hard not to laugh right now, aren’t you?”

“So hard.”

When he opens his laptop back up, I notice he’s wearing gray sweatpants. I don’t know what it is about them, but they can instantly take a guy from a six to a ten, and Finn was already far beyond a six.

“Come out in the snow with me,” I say. “We can at least take some cute photos of you hauling firewood for your Instagram to fawn over.”

We bundle in the warmest coats we brought, Finn’s red hair spiking out from beneath a wool beanie.

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