She could hear him shift behind her, skin against fabric, maybe tucking his hands in his pockets or crossing his arms. “Distraction’s good.”
She finally stole a glance at him, but he was shrouded in shadows, just a broad-shouldered silhouette. “You could’ve joined us. You didn’t have to eat alone.”
“Y’all looked involved in something,” he said, the gruff drawl in his voice making her think of steamy-windowed moments in the back of his car. She used to tease him that the more turned on he got, the more his country-boy accent showed. “You were reading papers. Seemed kind of intense.”
“Oh, that.” She turned back to the water, her shoulders curving inward and the sexy memories icing over. “We were opening this time capsule thing we did a long time ago. It’s probably good you didn’t come over and hear that part.”
“Time capsule?”
She picked at a splinter in the wood railing. “Just something we did that summer after everything happened—promises we made to the Class of 2005 about our futures. Kincaid decided we should open the letters tonight to see what our teenage selves hoped we’d become. I decided we should get drunk after.”
He made a throaty sound—like a laugh that didn’t quite make it out—and moved closer. He settled next to her along the wooden rail, his gaze fixed on the dark water. “Sounds like a solid plan to me.”
“I thought so.” She rattled the ice cubes in her glass and dared a peek at him. But all she got was his familiar profile, the slight bump in his nose from when he’d broken it sophomore year, and the unfamiliar scruff as he took a sip from his drink. It was hard for her not to stare and catalog all the little differences, all the changes time and experience had given him. The harder angles. The dark mess of hair that looked at least two haircuts past neat. Expression that didn’t reveal a thing. He was still Finn somewhere in there, but gone was the boy with the wide smile and the playful attitude. There was a sharpness to him now, jagged edges. Like if she met him in a dark alley, she’d have trouble determining if he was friend or foe.
He lifted his drink in agreement and turned, his green eyes gray in the darkness. “That was my plan, too. Minus the time capsule part.”
“Ha. Lucky you.” She shifted her stance and accidentally bumped her shoulder against his, sending a tendril of awareness down her arm. She wet her lips, ignoring the shiver. “Now you’ll never know if you lived up to teen Finn’s expectations.”
He was quiet for a moment, and she wondered if he was having the same push and pull inside as she was. On one hand, this felt comfortable. They’d always talked easily with each other. But at the same time, they were strangers now. Strangers who had this big, breathing beast between them.
He took a long swig from his drink. “Teen Finn didn’t have expectations. He just wanted to play football, not work for his dad, and get the hell away from here.”
“Guess you lived up to that last part at least. I was convinced you’d changed your name and moved to a foreign country.”
His jaw flexed. “Something like that.”
“You’ll have to give me your off-the-grid tips,” she said, trying to make light of a completely un-light situation. “I had to change all my legal stuff to my mom’s maiden name because I got tired of the phone calls from reporters and weirdos, but people still find me. Some dude cornered me at the grocery store last fall, convinced that I was part of a conspiracy with Joseph. That he’d been my boyfriend.”
Finn frowned her way, his grip flexing against his glass. “You need someone to do a security evaluation for you, lock things down tighter and give you better protection. There are sick people who get obsessed with news stories like ours. You’re too easy to find.”
She gave a half-hearted shrug. “I told the cops what happened, and I keep my stuff unlisted. I’m sure the guy just got lucky. He didn’t try to hurt me. He was just an asshole who wanted fodder for his conspiracy website.”
Finn considered her, his hair ruffling in the breeze and his expression serious. “You work as a web designer at MCT Design and live in Austin—renting not owning. You’re not married. You drive a Honda. You’re a member of an online book club, and you’ve registered an LLC for a photography business that, from what I can tell, you never opened.”
Her stomach flipped over and reared back. “And you know that, how?”
“How do you think?” He tapped the phone tucked in his back pocket. “The internet. If someone wanted to find you, they could.”
Unease curled through her. Finn knowing that information wasn’t a threat to her, but hearing that real stalkers could find her that easily was more than a little unsettling. She’d thought she’d put in protections both online and off. “Why the hell were you looking?”
He was stoic for a moment, but then his lips kicked up at the corners, some of the old Finn peeking through. “What? You never looked me up?”
Her spine drew straight, and she sputtered for a second. “I… Well, obviously, I wasn’t as successful. What am I supposed to do if you’re not on Facebook? My hands were tied.”
His smirk went to a full smile, and he chuckled. “Your online detecting skills are top-notch, Arias.”
Hearing him call her by her surname sent nostalgic warmth through her. She’d always loved when he referred to her like she was one of the guys on the football team. For some reason, she’d found it unbearably sexy. “Hey, I’m a website designer, not a security specialist. I make things beautiful and functional. Someone else at the company worries about making them safe, all right?”
He lifted his hands in defense. “Duly noted. And to answer your question, I looked you up because I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”
Okay. There was that damn word again. Her mood soured.
“I’m fine.” She turned to face him and swept a hand in front of herself like she was Vanna White revealing a new puzzle to solve. “As you can see. Fully functioning human and contributing member of society. Much to everyone’s shock, I’m sure.”
His gaze slid over her at that, accepting the unintended invitation for a slow head-to-toe appraisal. “Not mine. You were always the one going places. The one with big plans. I loved that about you.”
The way he said it wasn’t suggestive, but his attention sweeping over her made her skin tingle anyway, a slow-burning awareness that spread across her nerve endings.