Page 48 of Seas the Dating Coach

At the beginning of the drive, I assumed Finn wasn’t oozing charisma because he wasn’t a morning person, but now that we’ve been sitting in silence for fifty minutes, I’m about to crack. I don’t want him flirting with me, and calling me gorgeous, and frying the logical part of my brain, but I miss our easy conversation.

His appearance is off too. The dark-gray t-shirt stretched across his shoulders is wrinkled as if he slept in it. The warmthof his eyes hides behind sunglasses and a dark baseball hat. And Finn keeps rubbing his temple every few minutes.

Maybe he’s sick?

“You don’t have to stay,” I remind him.

I told him last night that I only needed help setting up this morning and striking my tent at six. He’d mentioned his recent flat and that he’d need to get it repaired while on the mainland. It’d been so weird hearing Finn talk like an islander, like he belongs here.

Finn nods, saying nothing.

Once we arrive for my eight o’clock check-in, setup goes surprisingly smoothly. The fair doesn’t open for an hour, but there are a lot of people already strolling the boardwalk. The scents of fried dough and the sour tinge of beer mingle with the briny sea air. A few blocks down, a guitarist performs a sound check.

My neighboring vendors—a ceramicist to my left and a metal-print photographer to my right—offer cordial good mornings. I focus on unpacking and organizing, trying not to notice how subdued Finn’s voice is as he asks for guidance on setup, or how helpful his height is for hanging the banner I had screen-printed with my business name, or how he wordlessly pulls a bag of Skittles out of his pocket and sets it atop my cash box.

The opened flaps of my tent flutter in the breeze as my chest contorts. This 10x10 space feels like the size of a bathroom rug with his large body shifting around to hang dresses on the clothing racks.

I step forward, collecting the hangers from him and hugging them to my chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Finn bends to pick up more dresses.

As soon as he straightens, I collect those as well, my small hands overfilled with hangers. “You’re not fine.”

Finn exhales, shaking his head at the ground before rubbing his jaw. “I was up late going over fundraising ideas and didn’t get enough sleep. I’m just tired. It’s going to be a long day with this and getting my car fixed. And…” He sighs, averting his gaze. “I’m doing my best, Viv.”

It feels like he sucker punched me. Finn is helping me, asking for nothing in return, and I’m pestering him.

“I’m sorry. You’ve done so much for me and—” I nearly fall over, surging forward to grip yet another bundle of hangers. Why is he so quick?

“Go get yourself a coffee—on me.” I try to gather all the dresses into one hand so I can reach for the slim card holder in my dress pocket. “There’s a shop off 18th.”

“In a minute.” He takes back the dresses I’m about to drop on the concrete boardwalk.

“Setup is nearly done.” I rush to hang up the clothes in my hands and beat him to the rest. “I can finish on my own.”

“I don’t mind helping. This is important to you. I want it to go well.”

I squeeze the last bundle of hangers to my tight lungs. “Why?”

Finn takes off his hat, running frustrated fingers through his hair. “Hero complex. I warned you about that. Remember?”

He shrugs, but there’s nothing casual about the way his gaze sweeps my face.

Though the fair hasn’t opened yet, a boisterous group of sixty-year-old ladies swing into my tent on a plume of multiple perfumes.

“Oh, these are just darling,” one says, sliding readers over her eyes to scrutinize a tag. “Not too expensive either.”

The shade of that aqua dress would complement her complexion and the woman’s salt-and-pepper bob. I don’t tell her, though. I don’t mention that I haven’t set up my digital payment system yet, or that the fair is not officially opened, orthat I was having what felt like a very important conversation before the trio arrived. My mouth opens, but nothing useful comes out.

Panic streaks down my arms. It’s not going to be like this all day, with my voice trapped like it’s been so many times before. It can’t.

You got this. You got this. You got this.

I move to assist the woman looking at the aqua dress when I hear slurred words.

“Diane, tell me how much this one is. I left my eyes at bottomless brunch.”

The woman, tugging on a bright-magenta dress, stops when she catches sight of Finn. “Oh, yummy-yum. Please tell mehe’sfor sale.”

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