Not A Temporary Love | Finley & Harlyn #1

Chapter 16

Harlyn

McDonald's is empty and has been since I got here three hours ago. Bobbi called me in because apparently no one else was available. I highly doubt that. I think everyone just called in as an excuse to extend their snow days a little longer. It hasn't snowed since Tuesday, but there are still piles of snow all over the city. The roads are better, cleared by consistent use. And yet, High Street is relatively quiet.

I start my rounds of checking the trash cans, bags in hand, even though I know there's not much in them. I'm just pulling the bin from under the receptacle by the front door, when Max and Finley appear, Finley slipping a bit on a patch of ice I must have missed when I put salt out front earlier.

"Careful," I say. Both of their heads snap up.

"Oh, Harlyn," Finley says, cheeks red and hair tousled. "I didn't know you were working today."

"Yeah, I thought you were going to Elly's tonight," Max says.

"I was," I say, trying not to sound too bitter. "And then I got called in because apparently, no one else is able to work tonight." I close the door to the receptacle and take a deep breath. "But it's ok. We've been so slow I haven't really had to do anything, so..." I shrug. "What are you two doing here?"

I head back toward the counter. Daniel is slowly making his way through a cleaning checklist, probably trying to stretch it as long as possible so as not to die of boredom.

"Well, this one just can't live without some McDonald's French fries," Max says. He leans across the counter and whispers, "He's a little homesick."

My eyes swing to Finley, who's blushing and not meeting my eye. "Max..."

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Just been a long week," he says, shrugging. "Empty house. Not much to do."

I decide not to mention that he could've come over to mine for board games or movies or company any time he wanted. Mum kept inviting, but he kept declining politely. I wasn't able to shake the feeling it had something to do with me. But I keep my tone light when I ask, "And...what can a bit of fast food do for you?"

"It's his comfort food," Max says, always Finley's designated speaker. I keep my eyes on Finley who finally meets my eye shyly.

"It just...feels like home, I guess. It's familiar," he says.

"Well, fries coming right up. Anything to go with them?" I ask, moving to a register and tapping in their order. They take a table in my view from the counter, and I can't help but watch them get settled before going to help Daniel put together their food. I make something for myself, too, and tell Bobbi I'm taking my dinner break as soon as it's all done. I take the tray to their table and squeeze into the booth next to Max.

"Mind if I join you? I have a break for dinner," I say.

"Well, you're already here," Max says. "Might as well stay. How's business today?"

We claim our food and I gesture at the empty restaurant. "It's obviously not good, Maxie."

"Maxie?" Finley asks, snorting. Max rolls his eyes. "Where did that come from?"

"I've been trying out nicknames," I say. It came up while playing a card game the other day when Mum asked if Max was short for something. Max grumbles.

"Yeah, Max doesn't love nicknames. I tried to give you a few in high school, didn't I?" Finley ponders for a second, chewing slowly. "Holly did, too."

"Yes," Max mutters. "Maximus. Maxine. Maximillian. Maxwell. You tried many. But may I remind you both -" he shoots me a glare "- that my name is just Max. It's not short for anything. And it doesn't need to be shortened to anything either."