Page 59 of Finn Rhodes Forever

“Say it. Say that you enjoyed hugging me. I know you did.”

I stared at him and he stared back in challenge. “Fine.” I lifted my shoulder, so casual. “You give good hugs.”

His mouth curled up. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

He laughed and shook his head before he sat down and opened his beer. He took a long pull before his head fell back. “Jesus Christ, that is so good.”

I smiled. “It’s shitty beer.”

“I don’t care. It’s cold and I’m a happy guy sitting here withmy girlin the forest.” Finn’s gaze slid to mine, smug and knowing. Challenging me.

Something sparked in my chest at his words. The last time he called me that, when I fell asleep in the car after the diner, I’d blurted outI’m not your girlby mistake. This time, I knew enough to hold my tongue. We were supposed to be together, after all.

I’d never admit it, but I liked the way the words sounded.

We sat there in content silence, drinking our beers and listening to the noises in the forest and from the fire, watching as it burned down to the ashes.

“I’m going to wash off in the creek before bed,” he said as the sun began to set. A question quirked on his face, playful and coy. “You want to join?”

My eyes rolled but I grinned at him. “You’d love that.”

“I sure would.” His eyes flashed again. “Be right back. Don’t talk to bears.”

I laughed. Whenever Finn and I would go exploring as kids, our parents would saydon’t talk to strangers!As we got older and spent more time traipsing around the forest, we’d respond,there’s nothing but bears out there,so Elizabeth started saying,okay, don’t talk to bears!and we’d laugh.

When Finn returned, I was staring into the fire. I’d added a small log to get it burning again as the sun set, but my mind was lost in thought, reliving those days where we used to play together. He stepped closer to the fire and my gaze swung up to him—

Shirtless. Ink spanning his skin, shifting over the ridges, valleys, and hard lines of his muscles. Abs. Pecs. Chest hair smattered across his sternum, tricking down his stomach into his waistband.

It was the first time I’d seen him shirtless in over a decade. His tattoos were on full display, and my eyes searched, memorizing every detail. The birds flew up and around his muscular arm, all the way to the shoulder. I’d seen the moon and stars on the other arm before, but now I could see the stars creeping up across his shoulder and sternum, blending into the sky above the forest spanning his collarbone. I’d seen the tops of the trees poking out of his shirts, but now I could see the lake beneath them. I caught a peek of the mountain range over his ribcage and was struck with the familiarity. That was the mountain range around Queen’s Cove. The area over his heart was blank.

This wasn’t the skinny teenager I’d fumbled around with in the dark. Finn was a man now. He had put on more muscle, collected a torso full of tattoos, and I could imagine the brush of his chest hair against my skin.

While I window-shopped his body, Finn watched me with a cocky, heated smile, like he was enjoying it. A rush of lust hit me between my legs, swirling heat and pressure, and I shuddered, clenching. I couldn’t tear my gaze off him. He smirked before pulling a shirt over his head. His biceps and triceps danced as his arms moved.

“You have a lot of tattoos,” I said uselessly.

As he took a seat beside me, he smirked like he had a secret. “A few.”

My gaze skimmed down his left arm, covered in a half-sleeve of the solar system. I reached out and my finger brushed the edge of a moon, barely bigger than my fingernail. While I traced the constellation of stars, he studied my face. Goosebumps rose up on his arm and I pulled my hand away, face flushing at the intimacy.

“How many birds are on your arm?”

“Twelve. I get one on our birthday every year,” he said quietly, and my pulse tripped.

My gaze shot to his, searching for insincerity or humor orsomethingthat would take away from the heaviness of this information.

If Finn turned out to be a romantic, I swear to god, I couldn’t handle it.

He held my eyes, steady and certain. I was supposed to be avoiding situations like this, but all I could think about were excuses to get his shirt off again.

Did it mean anything? Would he get another bird tattoo this year?

A sensation loomed in my chest, too big and intense to even think about.

“Do you have any?” His voice was low.

---