Page 13 of Finn

I’m having a hard enough time now.

Because I’m not thinking clearly, I blurt out of the blue, “Hey, I just want to tell you that I’m having a good time tonight. I’m glad we came back here.”

Sammie is quiet for a beat, and I’m worried I’m coming off as a creeper, but then she says softly, “I’m having fun, too, Finn.”

She smiles over at me, but there’s that damn sadness again in her emerald eyes.

What could be weighing on her?

Since I have no place to ask something potentially too personal, I just blather on. “You know what?”

“What?”

“We should go to dinner sometime, or maybe we could even catch a movie.”

That seems to surprise her, as she looks down and murmurs, “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

She bites her lip, and I can tell she’s uncomfortable, so I add quickly, “We can go as just friends, you know? Or whatever.” I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m trying not to overstep here.”

“Aww, you’re not,” she assures me, shaking her head and making her ponytail bounce. “Maybe going as friends would work. I mean, it’s not that I don’t find you attractive, Finn. It’s just that I don’t go out on dates. I have no time for a relationship.”

Sandwiched between all of what she just said that’s standing out to me is that she finds me attractive.

I keep hearing her say it over and over again in my head.

But I need to stop, because the rest of what she just told me holds true for me as well.

Waving my hand nonchalantly, I reply, “No, I hear you. I’m not in any position to get involved with anyone either. Hockey keeps me far too busy. Between practices, training, and games, there’s no time for love.”

Chuckling, she says, “We’re sad, aren’t we?”

I laugh. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

“But as for dinner or a movie…” She shrugs. “We could maybe do either of those things sometime.”

I cock a brow and reiterate what we just established as boundaries. “Strictly as friends, of course.”

She nods decisively. “Yes, as friends.”

I shouldn’t, but I’d like it to be more. It’s true that I don’t really have time for a relationship, but I think I’d make time for her.

No, I know I would.

After we take a minute to exchange numbers on our phones, we settle back on the sofa.

Sighing, Sammie slides her black ponytail holder off, letting her shiny auburn hair down.

Damn, why does she have to be so pretty?

Fluffing out her hair and flicking the little cloth-covered elastic band that was holding her hair onto the coffee table, she says, “You know what I could go for?”

“Er, uh…”Focus, dude, focus.“What’s that?”

“I think I’d like one more of those Duck Fart shots.”

“Sounds good.” I stand up and head to the bar. “I’ll have one too.”

“And a beer to chase it,” she calls out as I begin pouring the first shot.

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