I chew inside my mouth, not wanting to get into a discussion about my health with him. “I’m okay, thanks for your concern.”
Finn pulls his phone from his pocket. “I’ve got an hour before my shift starts. How about I buy you another drink and you try to keep conscious this time?”
I pause, one eye on the door out of the building and consider taking myself home instead.
“Please? I promise not to be as obnoxious as last time.”
Somebody like him, pleading to spend time in my company when most people avoid me, piques my curiosity and I agree. I play it safe with sandwiches this afternoon instead of the congealed food available, which looks less appetising than usual.
When we sit, Finn is quieter as if careful of what to say. He taps his long fingers on his plastic coffee cup. “I don’t want to pester you about this, but are you really okay?”
“Your concern is very touching, but yes, I’m fine.”
“And you got home okay?”
“Fine.”
“Do you live near here?”
“Why?”
He raises an eyebrow at my sharp tone. “Don’t worry, I’m not a stalker. Just making conversation.”
Whenever people say they’re not something, I instantly think they are. Which makes him a stalker. “I share a house across town.” I almost say ‘nice house’ but then an image of Alek enters my mind, and red-haired girls.
He sips his coffee. “Nice people?”
“Mostly.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve only lived there a few of weeks; I haven’t got to know them properly.”
“You’ll have to invite me over sometime.” He grins at me, and I can’t figure him out. Is he asking me on some kind of reverse date?
“Why?”
“Because I’m an awesome cook.” Dimples grow when he grins, and I can’t help smiling back at him. Maybe we could be friends. I don’t get any vibes from him indicating he’s interested in me, but some of my friendships with guys have gone sour thanks to the whole friend-zone thing. Jamie was the only guy who friendship ever worked with, and Finn is nothing like Jamie.
“Yeah, okay.” I say.
“How about tonight?”
I sink back in my seat and look at him. “What?”
“I could come over tonight and cook for you.”
“I wasn’t thinking so soon.”
“You look like you could do with a good meal. You’re pale.” He catches my warning look. “Most people like eating what I cook, and I’m sick of cooking just for myself.” He pauses. “I live on my own and thought it would be less creepy than inviting you over.”
Finn leans forward, face brightening expectantly. I stare at his sensual mouth, suddenly transfixed by how he has the kind of lips a girl could dream about having on hers.
But not me. I shift my look to his eyes, wondering if his culinary skills just warmed me to him or if it’s just because I don’t want to go home to a house of secrets on my own.
***
When Finn arrives at the house, for some reason, I’m as nervous as if I’m bringing a boyfriend around to meet my parents. I shake the ridiculous thought away and open the door. Finn stands on the top step, grinning as usual. For someone who was so sour-faced when I met him, he certainly grins a lot. He’s wearing a black shirt with a couple of buttons undone, revealing not quite enough, and nicely-fitting jeans, the kind that hug guys with great bodies in the perfect way. I grit my teeth against my hormonal side; I want a friend, not a lover.
“This will be so much better than pizza, I promise you.” Finn shakes the carrier bag of supplies at me.
“How do you know I eat pizza?”
He doesn’t answer, but tips his head back, looking at the tall house. “How many other people live here?”
“Two, one just moved out.” Grace left a couple of days ago. I knew she was going, but I wish she still lived here. She was the most normal thing about this place.
He makes a noise of surprise and as he steps inside, I catch the fresh scent of his soap. “Kitchen?”
I point him in the direction and look around for my housemates. Normally, it’s only Alek and me home around this time anyway. Music thumps from upstairs. Alek’s music. So, as usual, it is just us.
Finn busies himself chopping carrots and onions and I open a bottle of wine. I settle into one of the shaky wooden chairs and watch; the easiness around the situation reminds me of time with Jamie. Maybe he’s like me, someone looking for new people to connect with; he isn’t trying to hit on me, after all.
“Are you sure you live with people?” asks Finn, turning to lean against the sink, waving the black spatula around. This is odd; the only other guy who comes into this kitchen never cooks and has a beer bottle in his hand.
His emphasis on the word ‘people’ strikes me as odd. “People? Two of us work at the hospital and the other works somewhere else. Pretty sure we’re people?”
Finn rubs his cheek with the back of his hand. “I guess. Who’s that?” He points upwards.
“Alek.” As if to add emphasis, the music grows louder.
“Hmm. That’s a bit rude. I hope he turns it down when you go to bed.”