Love In Brooklyn - A Finn Wolfhard X Reader Novel

Two

At the after party, I ordered a dirty vodka martini and slumped against the bar. I sipped with fervor, the salty liquid burning as it went down, but at least it would dilute the disappointment. Or so I hoped.

Alec sidled up next to me, his bow tie crooked. He was taller than me but still average height, with broad shoulders and sandy brown hair that always stuck straight up. He ordered a gin and tonic.

"Martinis are dangerous, Y/N," he warned. "Go slow."

"I plan to get very drunk this fine evening," I explained, and reached over to straighten his tie.

"Do what you wish, but puking on the cover of the DailyMail really isn't a good look."

I shrugged in agreement, and begrudgingly also ordered a glass of ice water.

"You can't let these awards get to you as much," Alec told me. "It doesn't matter. We just make music for us, and for the fans, because we love it."

I groaned. "I know all that, Alec. But you've met me. I'm just... Competitive."

"Feels to me like you're trying to prove something. Do you really care this much about some damned astronaut statue sitting on your mantle?"

I paused for a moment, then pouted. "It would have our names engraved though,"

Maybe he was right... Perhaps on some level, there was a part of me that had to prove I was worth something, that gave me tangible evidence that I was successful. That I was good.

"You're right," I admitted, then raised my glass in a cheers. "To us. To our music, what it's really all about."

Alec dipped his head and smiled, clinking glasses with mine.

"I'm still getting drunk, though," I said.

I at least got relatively tipsy as the night went on. Jessie and I were the only ones sloppily dancing to Saturday Night's Alright when the DJ put it on, inciting a few judgy looks from Madonna.

When I went back to the bar for a beer, that dark haired guy from The Aubreys was curled over a mojito, sipping. He was tall and gangly, and his posture was terrible. I stood next to him and ordered my drink, leaving a couple feet between us, and he looked over to me, straw in his mouth, and tipped his head.

"Where's your trophy?" I asked in a tone more obnoxious than I intended, speaking loudly over the music.

He looked to the side awkwardly. "My manager has it."

I nodded. "If I were you, I'd be holding onto that thing for dear life. And kissing it."

I only realized how condescending I sounded after I'd spoken. He took another sip of his drink and scratched the back of his neck, like a nervous tic. He took a beat before saying, "Sorry you didn't win."

His apology sounded genuine - so genuine, it made my chest burn a little bit.

"No, no, sorry, I'm being an ass. You should be celebrating," I said.

He chewed on his lip, and stuck his hand out for me to shake. "Finn."

I hesitantly shook it. "Y/N."

The bartender slid a bottle of beer toward me. Finn eyed my drink and smirked. Also, dear lord, his cheekbones were unreal.

"What?" I asked.

"I've just never seen someone get a Bud Light at one of these things. I didn't even know they had it." he chuckled.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, it's just not very... Swanky."

"Well for your information," I said, jokingly, slurring slightly. "I just finished drinking a dirty martini. Is that swanky enough for you?"

He laughed, a real, guttural laugh, and something inside me lit up, but I quickly put it out.

"Sure. Cheers,"

I clinked glasses with him. "Cheers, Mr. Mojito,"

"Is a mojito not swanky?" he asked.

"It's a girl's drink."

"Woah, woah, woah, what year do you live in? Assigning genders to drinks?"

"Well you associate alcoholic beverages with socio-economic classes, so," I replied.

"Whatever," He rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying, if the drinks here weren't free I'd buy you a better drink."

His eyes were dark and they locked on me, but only for a second. I swallowed, my stomach filling with butterflies, my movements slowed from the alcohol. Only then did it occur to me that he was flirting, and all I could do was pick up my bottle and walk away. I didn't look back at him.

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