“She cut herself trying to help me pick up the pieces,” Finn lies. “Where do you keep your bandages?”
Theo points to the door at the end of the hall. “Bathroom. Go. I’ll clean this up.”
Finn doesn’t waste a second, grabbing my wrist and setting off toward the bathroom. The line stretches all the way down the hallway, but Finn doesn’t give two shits, skipping everyone without blinking. A girl stumbles out of the bathroom as soon as we reach the front of the line, and Finn offers a shit-eating grin to the next guy in line.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Finn asks.
He doesn’t even wait for the guy’s response before barging in and dragging me along with him. It feels like a fist is squeezing my lungs when he locks the bathroom door.
We’re alone.
No witnesses, no prying eyes, just us.
The last time we were alone like this, he was inside me.
“Let me find a bandage.” Finn lets go of my wrist and starts to rummage through Theo’s bathroom.
“Did you miss the part where I said I don’t need your help?”
Finn stops, pinning me with a look that makes my skin tingle everywhere he ever touched me. With terrible timing, I glance down at my bloody hand and flinch.
He scoffs. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Or puke. Or both.”
He’s not wrong.
The air gets caught in my throat when he fills the distance between us. He places his hands on each side of my waist, picks me up, and plants me on the bathroom counter like I weigh nothing.
He’s just a few inches away from me now, his hands still caging me in. A week has gone by since he touched me. Truly touched me. And as much as I wish I could forget what it felt like, what he felt like, my body is determined to remember.
“You’re the only fucking thing that matters to me. I’d die for you, Dia. I’d kill for you.”
Flashbacks of that day in his bedroom repeatedly stab me in the heart. It sounded so good. So true. Too bad it wasn’t.
Finn seems to feel the tension because his throat bobs at the proximity. He pulls away and picks up where he left off, combing through every inch of Theo’s bathroom. He finds what he’s looking for a few seconds later and drops a white box labeled First Aid on the counter.
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” I ask as he positions my hand under the faucet and turns the water on.
“Trust me, I’m a professional at this point.” He flips his hand over to show me his palm. He has a bandage, too.
Did he cut himself?
I want to ask him what happened. Until I remember that I’m not supposed to care. I watch him clean and bandage my cut in silence, my heart jolting every time we make eye contact. He’s so focused, so careful while he takes care of my wound, that I can’t help feeling warm inside.I decide to confront him as he’s finishing up.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
A bit surprised, Finn pulls back. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Gee, maybe because you ran for the hills from the moment I walked inside the house?”
He knows I’m right. He looked like he was going to throw a fit when he saw me come in earlier.
“Sorry about that,” he breathes out.
“It’s fine.” I jump off the counter, the bitterness of the truth coating my throat. “It’ll be easier if we hate each other.”
With that said, I pad toward the exit. I’m halfway through the door when his voice slices through the air.
“Well, then we have a problem.”