The Jock Trap

Chapter 4

“Except maybe your ego.” We’d stopped on the sidewalk in front of his house, now facing each other, and I found myself as level as I could be with his face. In six years, he’d changed almost beyond recognition, his every feature sharpening from how boyish they’d once been. I wasn’t sure why it was so surprising. “I didn’t know you remembered things like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like… stuff from when we were kids. You know. When we were friends.”

“Why wouldn’t I remember?” He seemed genuinely surprised, studying my expression with just enough intent to edge me out of my comfort zone. “You do.”

“But you’re…” My voice trailed off as I struggled to find the right word. There were several in my head, but I wasn’t sure I could choose without coming off as offensive. Three weeks ago, I would’ve had no problem with pissing off Finn Alford, but something had changed. “You’re… you.”

The corner of his lip twitched upward, amused. “I get the feeling that’s a bad thing.”

“You know what I mean.” I shook my head. “You’re popular. You’ve got a whole new crowd of friends. Everybody loves you. It’s not like you’ve got any reason to look back.”

I expected him to say something, at least in defence, but he just kept looking at me. His gaze, now sweeping over mine, was too deep for comfort, especially once I noticed his dark brown eyes had barely changed since we were kids. For a moment, it felt like I was looking at my best friend again.

Instead of responding, he took my hand. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

The shock had me frozen on the spot; when his small tug didn’t have me following, he turned around with a questioning look. “Would you rather stand out here in the cold?”

Snapping back into reality, I blinked. “No.”

“Then come on.”

This time, I went after him. I wasn’t entirely sure what part of me had made the decision; half my head still seemed to be acting on instinct, telling me to pull away and retreat home as quickly as possible. Going back into Finn’s house for the first time since middle school was never going to end well. Neither was letting him hold my hand without shaking him off. But I was doing both.

The door was unlocked, obviously waiting for his return; he let himself in without a key. Inside his hallway, the familiarity hit me at once. I couldn’t describe how, but it smelled like Finn, and brought back what felt like every memory associated with him. Framed photos lined the walls: baby shots of Patsy and Charlie; recent snaps of the three siblings; the classic first-day-of-school poses. Dotted among them were odd ones of a significantly younger Finn, exactly as I remembered him, dark hair flopping into his face because he hated getting it cut. I wasn’t sure why my heart rate suddenly seemed to pick up.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, as we crossed the hall and headed for the stairs. The house was full of that steady silence, enough to know his mom and siblings were sleeping.

“Showing you something.”

I knew where we were heading as soon as he made for the door; his bedroom was still to the left of the stairs. Our hands dropped as he tried the handle, and all of a sudden, I was exactly where I never thought I’d ever be.

Finn’s room, of course, had changed beyond recognition; I would’ve been slightly worried if it had been an exact replica of his eleven-year-old self. The whole place seemed to be a shrine to his swimming habit: a coat hook was piled with dozens of medals; the shelves were groaning under the weight of the sets of trophies; last year’s jersey had been pinned up over his noticeboard. Other than that, though, there was really nothing out of the ordinary. His bed lay messy and unmade, while several dirty plates were piled up on the desk. For some reason, it struck me as odd. I wasn’t sure why, but I’d expected… more. The room seemed too normal, too insignificant, to belong to anybody as coveted as Finn Alford.