Not A Temporary Love | Finley & Harlyn #1

Chapter 20

Harlyn

I'm on a high for the rest of the day. The rest of the week, actually. Every time Finley texts or we see each other in person, my knees go just a little bit wobbly, and I'm sure I grin my head off. We meet for lunch after our morning classes, and I do my best to recount my thoughts about him the last few weeks without blushing or stuttering too much. He smiles shyly the whole time, switching between staring at me in complete awe and staring at his lap.

And we talk about logistics. As I am still completely terrified of whatever this new thing is going on in my life, we agree to no public displays of affection for now. And it seems to go without saying that we won't be doing anything in front of Max or Elly, although that limits our choices as far as spending time together. Max literally lives at my house, and they have almost identical schedules, with the exception of a couple lectures and seminars. But over the next few days, we manage to meet up on campus a couple times and he comes to McDonald's once for my lunch break.

So far, no more kissing or hand holding, which is, to put it mildly, killing me. Because now that I can, it's all I want to do. Not even just kissing. I just want to hug him and hold his hand and...hold him. But the thought of doing it in front of people is terrifying. So, I resist. And resort to flirting over text - which makes him adorably flustered - any chance I get.

"Are we looking for anything specific?" I ask, thumbing through a rack of clothes at Elly's favorite charity shop.

"Not really. Just browsing," Elly says from the other side of the rack. She's holding up a black dress and looking it up and down.

"Cool." A glass case of coins catches my eye, and I drift over to look at them. As I'm scrutinizing one, my phone vibrates. A text from Finley.

Finley:
Tower of London = Intoxicating.

I turn farther from Elly so she can't see my smile.

Me:
Not as intoxicating as you. But go on.

Finley:
Stop. You're making me blush in front of max. He's already suspicious.

My grin falls, and I look at Elly. She's deep in another rack of clothes. I want to tell Elly first. That would be ideal. But...I still have no idea how to do it. I don't know how to form the words when I don't even know what words to use. I've been trying, really trying. But my mind seems to freeze up every time I think too hard. I need to have a conversation with Finley about this. As if he can sense my worry, Finley texts again.

Finley:
Noy like that. I just mean he knows I like you. He always teases me when we text. It's harder to tell him it's nothing now that it's something.

It's supposed to make me feel better. But it makes me feel worse. Not only am I keeping this from my best friend, I'm asking him to keep something from his best friend.

Me:
I'm sorry.

I pocket my phone without waiting for a response. Elly appears next to me with a black shimmery shirt.

"What do you think?" she asks.

"Um, it's nice," I say.

Elly rolls her eyes. "That is so helpful, Harley. Truly." She scrutinizes the top again.

"Yes, well, I've always been hopeless with clothes," I remind her. "I don't know why you bring me shopping anymore."

"Because I miss you," she says, flashing me a look. "It's been even worse this term."

I duck my head. "I know."

"It's both of us. We've been busy," she says, laying a hand on my arm. "I didn't mean it to make you feel bad." I look up at her. "I just meant that even though you are abysmal at fashion, I want to spend time with you. So here we are."