I wait a beat, then pull my head back out.
“They’re really into the ‘I love yous’ since everything with Rose,” I say, turning to face him.
My finger is still pressed against Finn’s warm, soft lips, and I jerk it away. He looks from my face, down to my chest and I’m suddenly very aware of just how thin my shirt is. I cross my arms, and he swiftly pulls his hoodie over his head, revealing a long-sleeved T-shirt.
“Here, take my sweatshirt, I’m hot anyway.”
I’d argue, but in the faint light coming from the windows I can see the pink warming his cheeks. It could be from seeing my nipples trying to cut their way through my shirt, but it’s more likely from that death-defying leap. Dumbass.
I tug the soft, clean-smelling shirt over my head, feeling the lingering warmth of Finn’s body.
“Thank you.”
“Sure.”
“Promise me one thing.”
He tilts his head. “What’s that?”
“Never do something like that again.”
He grins, again. “I’ve been wanting to try that since I was about ten. I finally have the height and speed to pull it off.”
I try not to be obvious as my eyes sweep over his broad shoulders and ridiculously long arms. “Yeah,” I mutter, “I guess you do.”
He sits first, hanging his legs over the edge of the roof. I follow, my hands swallowed in the size of the sweatshirt. Once we’re settled, I ask, “How are you?”
His mood instantly shifts, and I feel crappy for asking, but he answers anyway. “Okay, I guess.”
“I heard about the charm they found in the water. Is it the one you gave her?”
“Chief McMichael brought it by earlier for me to look at.” He frowns. “It’s definitely the one I bought for her.”
“That really…”
“Sucks,” he says, his shoulder brushing mine. He takes a deep breath and exhales. “I have no fucking idea how to deal with all of this.”
“One shitty day at a time, I guess.”
“I just keep running everything through my mind—the days leading up to the first day of school. Did I miss something? She was always talking about so much trivial shit,” he runs his hand through his hair, “that I just started to tune it all out. I’m a shitty boyfriend.”
I reach for his arm, the one attached to the hand tugging the ends of his hair. Slowly he stops, but I don’t move my hand, just holding onto him. “You don’t have to explain Rose to me. I know she and I haven’t been friends in a long time, but people don’t change. Not people like Rose. She was bossy and loud and had big dreams. She loved hard and when she was done with something, someone,” I swallow, “she was done. The fact they found that charm says something. You were with her until the end. I’m the one that didn’t fight for her.”
He looks up at me, blue eyes soft. “That’s not true.”
“It is. I let Juliette walk into Thistle Cove and steal my best friend—no, best friends--from me. All over petty bullshit.” I look down at my knees. “Thank you for the apology today. I know it didn’t seem like it, but I appreciate it. A lot.”
“I never should have let that happen.”
“You didn’t spray paint my house. They did.”
“No, I didn’t, and I tried my hardest to make sure you didn’t see it. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to it fast enough.”
“What?” I frown. “What are you talking about?"
“That night when the girls went to the party at Rich Crawford’s house, I stayed back and painted over the mess on the garage. I did it hoping you’d never find out what happened.”
“You did that?” I’m stunned. Completely bewildered.