Page 8 of The Perfect Accomplice

Hannah turned around to find herself facing Finn Anderton. The guy was smiling at her cockily. He’d clearly just come inside as his dirty blond hair was casually windswept, and his cheeks were ruddy. His crooked grin highlighted his dimples. He shifted his feet, adjusting his wiry but powerfully built frame.

“I’m not sure you know me well enough to draw any conclusions about what ‘type’ I am,” she replied coolly. “I mean, I believe this is the second time we’ve spoken.”

“But the first time was so memorable, it’s fixed in my brain,” he said. “It’s not everyday that some random gal comes to a party at my fraternity, fake flirts with me to get me alone, then proceeds to accuse me of leaving cruel, anonymous messages outside the dorm room of a girl I hardly know. It left an impression.”

Finn was still smiling enthusiastically, so it was apparent that he didn’t hold much of a grudge, although he probably had a right to. When she’d initially investigated the notes left for Lizzie and discovered that Finn went to her high school and was on the lacrosse team with her ex-boyfriend, she jumped to the conclusion that he might be targeting her on behalf of his old teammate.

In retrospect, cornering him in the laundry room of the frat house and alleging that he was terrorizing Lizzie was not the most well-thought-out plan. And as it turned out, Finn didn’t fit her preconception of the rowdy, party guy who would do something that cruel and not think twice about it. Now that she thought about it, she’d never really apologized to him.

“I might have been a little rash,” she conceded reluctantly.

“Keep going,” he said, with a wave of his hand.

“What exactly do you want me to say?” she demanded, unwilling to go beyond that.

“No, I mean, keep going forward. You’re next in line.”

She turned around and saw that she was almost next up to order. Feeling her cheeks redden, she took several steps forward. Finn moved forward too and leaned close so that only she could hear what he said next.

“How are you doing?” he asked quietly. His voice was laced with concern.

“What do you mean?” she asked, turning around halfway.

“No offense, but you look a little tired.”

Hannah stared at him, trying to hide her surprise. She was tired, mostly from a lack of sleep related to the restless pit she carried around in her gut, but she assumed that no one had noticed. She found herself mildly impressed.

“Too much late night studying, I guess,” she lied.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who needs to study that hard,” he told her. “Or are you going to call me out for drawing conclusions again?”

She knew that he was flirting but wasn’t sure how to respond. She’d bantered many a time to gain an advantage over someone she suspected of ill intent, but Finn seemed to be genuinely interested in chatting her up just for the pleasure of it. She was about to reply when she noticed an unusual absence. It occurred to her that during the course of their conversation, that restless pit inside her had temporarily melted away.

“You’re up,” he said, nodding ahead of her. “It seems like you keep losing track of things when I’m around.”

Hannah offered him a smirk before turning back around and placing her order.

“And I’ll have a large black coffee,” he said, stepping next to her. “Both are on me.”

“That’s not necessary,” Hannah told him. “I can pay for my own drink.”

“Of course you can,” he replied, flashing the crooked grin again, “but that’s not the point. This is a gesture of friendship and human connection. Just say ‘thank you’ like a normal person and step aside so the next customer can order. That’s how things work in a civil society, Hannah.”

It was the first time she could remember him saying her name, and she felt an unexpected charge at hearing it, though she kept her expression blank.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, before adding, “although I have to be honest. I have an ulterior motive with the coffee.”

Hannah saw him suddenly stiffen nervously and waited silently for the follow-up, unsure where he was headed with this and unwilling to help him navigate his way out of whatever it was.

“So I heard through the grapevine that you solved your friend’s problem with those anonymous notes,” he continued awkwardly.

“Yes,” Hannah said, offering nothing more.

“And I noted that you resolved it without anyone finding out who did it or letting word spread about the whole mess, which probably saved your friend a lot of embarrassment.”

Hannah only nodded in response.

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