Page 44 of Finn

Reaching over to the coffee table with my eyes still closed, I fumble for my cell.

Grabbing it, I hold it above my face and open my eyes.

It’s Sammie!

I answer that motherfucker so fast, it’s not even funny.

“Hey,” I say with probably more enthusiasm than I should. “What’s up?’

“Grrr,” she growls. “I hate to bother you, but I’ve kind of gotten myself involved with a project here that I could use a little help with.”

“Project?” I ask, confused. “At your place?”

“Yeah.”

“But wait,” I say, sitting up. “I thought you were working a double today.”

“No. I do a doubletomorrowat Applebee’s.”

“Ah, got it. I guess I misheard you last night.” I lean back on the sofa. “Okay, so what’s this project you need help with?”

“Well,” she begins, “I was dusting in my living room, and I was thinking how I don’t really like where my bookshelf is. I haven’t for a while now, but it’s really been bugging me lately. Anyway, it’s to the left of two long windows, but I think it’d look way better situated between them. You remember the layout in my place, right?”

I was only in Sammie’s townhouse once. It was a couple of weeks ago, on one of the rare occasions when she agreed to let me pick her up. I was supposed to just text when I got there, and she’d come out.

But I was likefuck that, I wanted to go to her door and get her.

Yeah, kind of like a date.

I also wanted to see the inside of her place.

Sammie didn’t seem mad that I was on her doorstep, ringing the bell and not texting like we’d agreed upon. She even asked me in and gave me a tour of her townhouse.

It’s really fucking nice, modern with all the latest appliances and shit. The color scheme is fairly neutral, beige tones and off-white, but there are some definite feminine touches—floral pillows and soft pastel accents.

I can definitely picture the layout of her living room. And I recall the bookshelf. It’s tall and wide and packed full of books. Looked like a heavy motherfucker too.

“Yeah, I remember,” I reply. “Please don’t tell me you’re trying to move that thing by yourself.”

“Ummm…” She blows out a breath. “That was the plan. I figured I could scoot it over to between the windows. I took out all the books and stacked them in piles on the floor. But even empty, when I tried to move that stupid bookshelf, I couldn’t get it to budge. It’s just too heavy, Finn.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, I bet it is.”

“So, can you help me with it?” she asks in the sweetest, softest voice.

Like I’d say,“No, you’re on your own, kid.”

“Of course I’ll help you,” I tell her. “Let me throw on some jeans and shoes, and I’ll be right over.”

Sounding super excited, she says, “Thank you, thank you, Finn. You are a lifesaver.”

I laugh. “Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she replies. “Still, I’m going to repay you somehow. I promise. If you ever need something I can help with, just let me know.”

I almost tell her, “Don’t worry about it,” but then I think about a way she could repay me—if we don’t make the playoffs, she can come to Alaska with me.

I’m not saying anything right now, though.

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