Page 24 of Hearts Adrift
Threw my hat, shades, and jacket at the floor, crawled under the sheets of my bed, and pretended it didn’t happen.
But it did. And I’m fairly sure he saw me. I’m certain he did—the weirdo baking himself alive inside a hot faux-leather jacket.
“Are you ready to tell me the full story yet?”
Anya’s question brings me back. When I look up, I’m thrown for a second, not recognizing her goo-covered face or the sensitivity in her eyes.
Then there’s a knock at the door.
I look up, my heart racing at once. I leave her gooey face sitting there and move to the front window and poke a finger through the blinds. The knock comes again—and I realize it’s from the back door. I hurry to the kitchen.
Through the door window, there stands Finn.
My guardian angel in a fitted sky-blue button-up shirt with short, bicep-hugging sleeves over khaki shorts.
Is he here to confront me about sneaking around at the Fair like a weirdo? If he’s here just to tell me in person to never do that again, I’ll deserve it. I’ll even thank him and oblige his request, no matter how mortifying it may be.
I open the door. “You’re back.”
He replies: “You’re all over the internet.”
I freeze. Not what I was expecting.
But of course this should happen. It was far too much to expect Finn to stay in the dark forever. He was bound to grow curious at some point, despite his strange aversion to the film industry, and look me up. It was inevitable.
Now he’s one of them. One of the ones who saw the video, read the worst, and drew the easiest conclusion.
Our short-lived connection was too good to be true.
Maybe I would’ve preferred him banishing me for the weird Fair-stalking ordeal earlier.
“There’s a reason, right?”
His question stops me. “What?”
“For what you did? Attacking that guy? It’s bothering me ever since I saw the video. Can I come in? Thanks.” He slipsright past me and enters the kitchen, bewildering me. I notice a plastic bag hangs from his grip, which he quickly sets on the counter and forgets about, turning back to me. “The video starts so abruptly. Like, it’s obvious there was a lot that happenedbeforethe incident, but you don’t see it in the video. You see almost nothing except for you shouting at him—can’t even make out the words, too much echo—then throwing the punch and storming off. That doesn’t tell us anything. And was it recorded by a camera guy? That’s my guess. Or an intern. Someone pulled out their phone to capture what they could, but they missed how the argumentstarted—the vital piece. And that’s …” He stops suddenly, as if taking his first breath, then sinks against the counter, looking winded. “… that’s what’s been bothering me.”
His speech slowly hiked my eyebrows up my forehead. I probably look stunned.
I wasn’t expecting so much analysis from Finn.
He’s an overthinker. An intellectual gym bro. Replays everything he experiences in the 4K screen of his mind on loop with surround sound until it makes sense.
I’m suddenly holding back laughter.
Finn notices and frowns. “What’s so funny?”
“Sorry.” I sober up. “Really, sorry. Just …” I close the back door and lean against it. “I just didn’t expect this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought you’d be …” Suddenly I’m not sure what I thought. “People are saying a lot of things about me.”
“I know.”
“Digging up my past.”
“I’m sure they are.”
