“Why’syourface so red, eh?” Finn grinned. “I’ve seen the way you look at the Wolf.”
Luka’s jaw dropped, then he snapped it shut. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Thomas is my boss. And it’s red because I shat the bed and the storyboards are garbage. We have to redo them all.” He waved an arm over the pile on his desk.
“What?” Finn furrowed his brow. “Thomas said they were garbage?” If that was the case, there was something seriously wrong with Thomas.
“Well, no.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he talked to Aleandro and we need to go in another direction.”
“So?” Finn shrugged. Classic Luka. Spiraling for nothing. “You did the work based on the information we had at the time. Now we know more, so we adapt.”
Luka blinked at him. “I guess.”
“Just means more time working with him,” Finn teased.
“Anyway,” Luka said, blushing further. “Speaking of work…” He gestured to the stacks of paper on his desk.
“Yeah, yeah,” Finn muttered, getting to his feet. “I know, ‘Fuck off, Finn.’” He paused at the door and turned back, heart swelling with a burst of affection for his friend. “Thanks, Luka.”
“Anytime, bud.”
* * * *
Work for Sartini piled up now that Thomas was leading full-steam ahead. Their Thrill Island pitch meeting with Ilona had gone well—she loved their ideas—and now there were a few adjustments and some polishing to do before they met with the owner of the amusement park. The big cancer charity fundraiser Finn headed up every year—the 5K for Hope—was approaching too, and he was busy organizing the Breakpoint office team.
With all those things on his plate, he wasn’t surprised when he looked up from his desk one evening to see it was after nine.
“Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. That was more than enough for one day. His stomach growled as he packed up his bag and trudged toward the elevators.
And there was Rory, waiting. The overhead lights were off, but the light from down the hall cast Rory’s long neck and sharp jaw in stark relief.
“Hi,” Finn said, his throat threatening to close.
Rory tuned at the sound of Finn’s voice, tired face lighting up with a smile. “Hi, Finn.”
“You’re here late,” Finn said.
“So are you.”
“Yeah.” Finn pushed his hair back. “Lots going on.”
“That’s for sure.”
The elevator ride was quiet, and so was the night when they stepped out onto the sidewalk. Finn paused and turned his face up to the cool air, refreshing after so many hours inside.
Rory tilted their head up, too. “What a beautiful night,” they said softly. The faint stars that were visible over the city dotted an inky sky, scattered with thin, purple clouds.
Finn’s hunger and exhaustion had vanished, replaced only by the desire to stay by Rory’s side. “Can I give you a ride home?” he offered. “I drove today. Getting a train this time of night can be tricky.” A bolt of worry stabbed through him at the idea of Rory traveling home alone.
“Oh, no.” Rory shook their head. “It’s totally out of your way.”
“Not that far,” Finn said. “I’d be happy to drive you.”
Rory shifted their bag and looked up at Finn. Their eyes reflected the streetlights, sparks of yellow in bottomless black. “Well, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”