"Actually Good" Finn Wolfhard Imagines

The Fame (Part 2)

If you enjoy this story, please comment and vote! It really helps me out. If you have any requests, comment them below! -Allison

"Okay, one, two, three!" you count off before snapping a few photos of Y/F/N and the band members.

"Y/F/N, can I talk to you one sec?" you force a smile at her, your eyes wide.

You pull her away, to the corner.

"The lead singer asked me out for a drink." you whisper.

"WHAT? FINN WOLFHARD ASKED YOU OUT?" she squeals.

You hush her. "Ssshhhhh! I think I'm gonna go. He's really cute."

"Of course you're going! This is unbelievable! Stay in touch with me, okay?" Y/F/N hugs you.

"Yeah, of course."

You walk back over to Finn. "Ready to go?" he asks.

You nod.

"So, do you know of anywhere around here to get a drink?" you ask him.

"There's actually a place right here called ETA. It's like this trendy hipster bar. You want to go there?"

"That sounds great!"

He waves goodbye to the band and his fans, before leading you down the hallway to the back exit of the venue.

You chat on the way down the stairs. Finn opens the door, to about twenty paparazzis flashing their cameras. Stunned, you hold your hand over your eyes as they shout Finn's name. He is flustered, grabs your hand, and quickly drags you out of the alley. The paparazzi chase you out onto the sidewalk.

"Jesus! I didn't know you were this famous!" you look back over your shoulder at the crowd.

"They can't follow us into the bar. It's right there," he points across the street.

You notice he still is gripping your hand, which you don't necessarily mind, but if you were him, you wouldn't want the media to have photos of you holding some girl's hand to twist the story.
You speed walk across the street into the bar, where Finn shuts the door behind you quickly. You both catch your breath.

"Are you okay?" he turns to you.

You nod and gulp. "Yeah, are you? That was crazy."

"I know... I'm so sorry. I really didn't think they'd be at the back entrance. I don't know what security was doi—"

"Finn," you interrupt his nervous ramble. "Seriously, it's fine! It's not your fault anyway. Let's just get a drink and forget about it." you touch his arm.

He takes a deep breath. "Yeah, you're right."

You and Finn take your seats at the bar. The bartender approaches you, and his eyes lock on Finn for a split second. He probably recognizes him.

"What can I get started for you two tonight?"

Finn motions to you to order first. "I'll have a French 75, please." you hang your coat on the stool.

"Rum and coke, thanks."

Finn looks to you and chuckles. "What is a French 75?"

"Oh, they're delicious. It's champagne, gin, and lemon juice. It's sweet too."

He leans his chin on his hand and his eyes move to you. His lips curl into a small smile.

"What?" you smirk.

"Nothing."

The bartender serves your drinks.

"Wait, so can I try, this French seventy-something?"