Not A Temporary Love | Finley & Harlyn #1

Chapter 17

Finley

The applause fades as the curtain lowers, and people already start moving toward the theater exits in waves. We get swept up in the crowds of people before we have a chance to talk about what we thought of the musical. We're on the second balcony, so it takes a while, but eventually, we get out of the crush of people and into the cold night air. I step out of the crowd, against the theater wall, and suck in air, ignoring how it stings against the back of my throat.

"You ok?" Harlyn asks, his hand landing on my shoulder.

"Yeah," I gasp. "Just a lot of people. Got lost for a second there."

He puts his other hand on my other shoulder, facing me fully and blocking me from the people wandering past. His eyes are worried, but he doesn't say anything else. He just stands there, rubbing his hands up and down my arms until the crowd finally thins out. He's doing what I told him to, grounding me. God, he's amazing.

His hand stays on my shoulder as we walk to the train station. He's had something on his mind all day. I thought he was finally going to tell me earlier, but then I had to ruin it by blabbing about how he doesn't take care of himself. He doesn't, but I probably shouldn't have blurted it all over him the way I did. He's been quiet since then. Attentive, of course. He seemed to genuinely enjoy the musical. But he's in his own world. Hopefully, that's a good thing and I haven't completely scared him off.

We reach the station, and while we wait to catch the next train, we talk about the musical, the parts we liked, the songs we want to listen to again. When we're seated on the train, side by side, Harlyn turns to me. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Scratches his neck.

"What?" I ask. He licks his lips, but still doesn't say anything. "You can ask me anything. Tell me anything. That's the agreement. And it still stands."

He smiles. "What is it about Victoria? That you like so much?" I squint at him. I have a feeling that's not what he was about to say. But I don't press.

"Oh, well, she's fascinating. She...redefined what it meant to be the monarch of Great Britain. I mean, after her horrible uncles, people were actually interested to see what a young woman would do as queen. And she did a lot. Especially considering how she was raised and that everyone wanted to control her; everyone thought they could control her. And that terrible Kensington System, never alone, always watched." I watch the brick wall scroll past the window. "I guess I relate to her a bit."

"How so?" he asks, tilting his head to the side. I give him a look.

"Always talking about me, aren't we?"

He smiles. "I don't mind. I want to know."

"You want me to psychoanalyze myself?"

He laughs. "Well, psychoanalyzing me didn't go so well earlier, did it?" He holds a hand up before I can say anything. "Another time. I asked you a question."

"Fine," I huff, turning fully in my seat and tucking my right leg under me so I don't get a knot in my neck. "All my life, I've done what everyone has expected of me. I was the perfect oldest son." I pause. I've never laid all of this out to anyone other than Max. But I trust Harlyn. "I always got good grades. I never stayed out late. Always told my parents who I was with and where I was. Although, it was always Max and Holly, so I don't know why they asked." He laughs. "I told them everything. Was open about everything. Well, almost everything."

"Being gay," Harlyn says. I nod. "You mentioned that they didn't take it well."

"No, they didn't. They...looked at me like I was a different person. They just kept asking if I was still going to school, if I was still going to be an English teacher. And I was like 'well, yes. Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm going to change all of my plans.' And so, I continued to do everything everyone expected of me. I worked harder at school than I ever had. I stayed at home instead of moving out with Max, and even that didn't seem to surprise them, like they always knew I wasn't ready to go out on my own. Even my anxiety attack and going to therapy? It seemed like they thought it was inevitable." I pull at a string on my coat cuff. "But then I started to go to therapy. And Eliza helped me work through a lot. And she said something that changed the way I thought about a lot. She said 'I feel like you only really do things that people expect you to do, even if you don't really want to. It's safe. It's easy.'"