Not A Temporary Love | Finley & Harlyn #1

Chapter 19

Finley

I wait in the kitchen for Harlyn. I really just want this over with. I'll let him say his piece - which I'm convinced will be some variation of "it was a mistake" - and then he'll leave, and I'll cry while I get ready for class. If I'm lucky I can salvage some kind of friendship, if only for Max's sake.

Of course, I went and kissed him. He was just right there, staring at me. And with no sanity left - and all the things Max pointed out running through my head - I kissed him. And it was so good. Until I opened my eyes and there was fear in his. Because I went and kissed an obviously straight guy and scared him off. I shake my head. I've thought about this enough. And I'm clinging to the fact that Harlyn is a decent, kind person. He'll understand. Even if I'm mortified for the rest of my life.

The doorbell rings at exactly eight thirty, and I open the door, only now realizing that I probably should have changed. I'm in pajamas, plaid pants and an old ratty t-shirt. I retreat to the other side of the room, cowering against the cabinets, while He takes his shoes off.

"Where's your host mom again?" he asks.

"Spain," I answer, rubbing my eyes. They're puffy and itchy from tears and lack of sleep. "Escaping the cold. She texted and said she'd be back on Thursday."

"Sounds like fun," he muses. "Warm." I hate that this is so awkward.

"You want some tea?" I ask. I realize too late that in order to make tea, I'd have to stand right next to him where he's leaning against the stove. I wonder if he'd move.

But I don't have to worry, because he says, "No I'm good. I had two cups of tea already this morning."

"That's a lot of tea," I say, wrapping my arms around myself.

"Yeah, well, I've been up since 6," he admits, crossing his ankles.

"Why?"

He smiles softly. I'm not strong enough for this. I train my eyes on the tile floor.

"Couldn't sleep."

Probably because he was up all night trying to find a way to let me down easy.

"I'm sorry."

"Finley," he says gently. "Look at me? Please?"

I force myself to make eye contact with him. "What?"

He pulls in a long breath, like he's trying to prepare himself. I brace myself.

"I like you."

I blink at him, my jaw dropping a bit. "What?" I didn't hear him right. Right? That's the only explanation. This is a hallucination brought on by no sleep and wishful thinking.

"I...like you," he repeats. I stare too long again. This...can't be happening. Max was right? He'll never let me live this down. "I know. It's a lot. And honestly, I don't know what it means either. In like...regards to me. I don't know. What I am. I've never liked a boy before. At least not that I can remember. Or that like...registered as a crush. I definitely like you though."

"When?" I blurt.

He frowns. "What?"

"When did you start liking me?" I ask.

"Oh," he says. And then he smiles. "A couple weeks ago. After Leeds castle. That's when I finally...realized it. Fully. But I think it started before that. At least Brighton. Probably even before that."

So, I haven't been going crazy. Neither has Max. We were actually picking up on things. What am I supposed to do with this? I've been denying it for weeks, telling myself I can't feel this. And now...