Page 40 of A Hard Fit

Of course they did.

Finn’s mouth dried out and his foot twitched like it wanted to turn around, but Luka’s words came back to him.It’s just costumes.“Do you have a Halloween costume yet?” he blurted, with zero preamble.

Surprise flashed over Rory’s face for a split second, and who could blame them, the way Finn burst in, hair surely as wild as his eyes, then they shrugged. “I was thinking of going as maybe a spreadsheet or something, like columns and rows of numbers on me…” Rory faded off, studying Finn’s face with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” Finn gasped, aware of the sweat forming on his hairline. “I’m fine. Great. Sorry, I was just… I was wondering—do you want to do a costume with me? Like, we dress up together? In costumes that match?”

“Oh.”

In that ‘oh’ Finn died a thousand deaths—suffocated, bled, choked, crawled across the desert sand until the winds carried away his desiccated skeleton.

Then Rory relaxed, a smile curling the edges of their mouth like daisy petals in the sun. “Sure. That sounds fun.”

Finn fell against the doorframe before his legs could fail him. “Great. Um. I was thinkingTop Gun? Maverick and Goose? You know, flight suits, aviators…”

Now Rory’s face was a sunflower, bright and wide. “Love it. As long as I’m Goose.”

Finn forced a swallow down his parched throat as his heart soared higher than Maverick’s F-14. “Of course.”

* * * *

The morning of his Halloween party, Finn was wide awake at six, followed by a workout, beard trim, shower and protein shake. Eight hours later—furniture pushed back, karaoke machine hooked up, bowls heaped with candy, drinks buried in ice—Rory’s arrival was looming.

The two flight suits he had ordered arrived just in time. Finn laid them both out on his bed, smoothing the wrinkles while his stomach danced. The way Rory had smiled at him when Finn appeared in their office, the way they stood close, tilted their head up to him, touched his arm when they spoke… Yesterday in the busy staff kitchen, Rory had brushed behind him, long, elegant body against his for one blissful second. There was something there. Maybe. If he allowed himself to dream.

“Don’t fuck this up, Finn,” he muttered, studying himself in the mirror as he zipped up his suit. “Don’t say anything stupid. Just…be normal. You can do this.”

A knock.

Rory’s knock.

He hurried down the hall, tugging the zipper down a little. Too much. Back up a hair. He took one last look around. His house could not be more perfect.

Finn emptied his lungs in a whoosh and opened the door.

The setting autumn sun haloed around Rory in a thick amber light. They wore brutally sexy aviators and a leather jacket over a white tank top.Amazing.

“Hey, Goose,” Finn greeted them, resisting the urge to pull Rory in for a hug.

Rory tipped down the sunglasses and gave him an adorable grin. “Maverick.”

“Come on in.”

“You look fantastic,” Rory said, taking in Finn from head to toe. “A flight suit agrees with you.”

Finn flushed like a teenager. “Thanks. Oh, leave your shoes on.”

Rory nodded, following Finn past the wide doorway that led into the living room. “Wow, your place is so cool.” They stopped at the large painting at the end of the hall, eyes wide. “Finn…”

The fire banked in Finn’s cheeks. He hung his art so the people he invited into his home could see it, but having Rory study it so intently made him feel naked. “It’s calledHome. It was the first thing I painted when I moved in.”

Rory’s head tilted. “I love it. It’s very warm. It reminds me of…” They lifted a hand, traced the shape of the curve in the air “…a really good hug.”

“Yeah.” Finn rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks, I—Thanks.”

“Do you have any more art I can see?”

“Yeah, sure. There’s one in my bedroom.” He led Rory down the hall, heart rate climbing. Finn had, of course, made sure his room was impeccably tidy, but his eyes still darted around, trying to see it as Rory would. There was only one framed photograph—him and Luka accepting the corporate fundraising award from the first year they did the 5K for Hope. And tucked in the corner of the frame was a picture of him and his niece and nephew when they were small. He had straightened the ‘To Be Read’ pile of books on his bedside table, but maybe he should have put them away. The pile was embarrassingly large. Wait, was that a sock poking out from under his bed?

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