Finn
*
I watched the door shut after her. I was very close to walking up to it and knocking until she opened up, but I tucked my desperation away and took the groceries into my apartment.
Head reeling with flashes from the night, I began the task of putting everything where they were supposed to be in the kitchen. My hands got to the bottom of one bag and pulled out a jar of Nutella. I paused, recalling how haughty I'd been with Amanda during the first half of the trip. She'd taken my apology easily, but I never stopped beating myself up internally over it. I was always pushed to my limits around her, forced myself to remain level headed when I wanted nothing more than what we used to be.
She couldn't know that, though. I didn't think I could survive a second rejection.
But some moments made me think different. Moments when she looked eager to see me, and when her smiles looked so genuine it felt like I would get sucked in them. Being the pathetic loser I was, that was something I ached for.
After everything was stashed away, I turned off the lights and padded to my room. Reaching for the hem of my sweater, I tugged it off. I rubbed the base of my stomach and ran my hand up, past my well defined chest, and stopped at my collarbone. The mild feeling of hunger was beginning to settle, along with a new thought. Was Amanda hungry right now, or had she grabbed something before we stumbled on each other at the elevator? Maybe I should have asked her to dinner after dragging her around for my sake.
Fuck, I'm a real piece of work.
Still in the dark, I walked over to the window and drew the curtains apart, revealing the unreal beauty of the moon. A part of me that wasn't hellbent of self sabotage loved being with her tonight. All my fears seemed to melt away in her presence, filling me with a kind of hope. Like more purpose lay ahead for me.
What if I cooked something and took some to her? Would I come across as childish and eager to please? Because that was always my first instinct with Amanda. To please. In the way I was thinking of cooking for someone, when I was still learning to do so for myself. Flowers and expensive gifts had always been my go-to, the sort of thing I could have someone else arrange for me. But this side of me-a part that craved intimacy-only she could bring it to light.
At the last moment I shut out the idea and retreated to my bed to call it a night. I wondered when I would get the chance to see her again. We lived right across from each other, but it felt like she was avoiding me. Didn't that make her life harder, if my living here made her routine even more tedious?
My phone vibrated on the space next to me on the bed. I brought it up to see an incoming call from Parker. Fuck, I still needed to offer him a proper apology.
I swiped right on the screen and held it to my ear.
"Hello, Parker."
"Mr Harris. How did your evening go?"
I stared into the poorly lit emptiness above me as I thought his question through. "It went well. Amanda was very tolerating of my behavior. More than you probably would have." Parker chuckled, but I felt guilt. "I'm sorry for cancelling so last minute. I bumped into her and she offered to help with the shopping, and..." I trailed off, failing to come up with an excuse as to why I chose her, when he was the more logical option.
Especially when he was already outside when I sent him a text while I waited for Amanda by the elevator.
"You don't have to explain yourself, sir. At least, not in this situation."
I hesitated. The implication of his words was clear to me, but I had to be sure. "What makes this situation an exception?"
"She does," he said. "You've got a soft spot for her. She brings out a different side of you."
I couldn't hold back my scoff. "That's ridiculous."
"It's not, it's good." He hesitated, and I knew he was debating saying more. We didn't have this kind of conversations regularly, choosing to keep our interactions on a strict boss-employee wavelength. But something shifted in that dynamic when I returned to New York.
"It's good... for you."
There was a pause, and I expected him to ask the question I'd been jumping hurdles over.
Is she your ex?
He'd probably made the assumption already. A plausible excuse as to why I moved next to her, a difference from the luxury penthouses I was accustomed to.
"You're yet to confirm the time of your meeting with Mrs Larsen."
"Right. I completely forgot. It's at twelve."
"Alright, sir. Do have a good night."
"You too."
He ended the call, and I was back to the quiet emptiness of the dark. My thoughts drifted back to Amanda, and every detail of her came flooding in. I relieved her scent, the feel of her skin beneath my fingers and the way her ponytail lightly grazed the back of her shirt. I thought about her mood changes, and how her calm and consuming eyes could easily turn sharp when provoked.
I wondered if I could accurately recreate those expressions, or the delicate curve of her cupid's bow, or the mesmerizing slenderness of her neck if I wanted to. My hand itched to create something- messy shades of charcoal on paper, thick, lustrous oil on canvas, or a pencil scrawl on a sticky note.
It didn't matter. All I ached to do was make art of her.
And then it struck me that this was the first time I was having the urge to create anything in two years. It was hungry, intense. I doubted it would quiet down until it consumed me.
So I let it consume me.
In a flash I was out of my bed and turning on the lights. I wanted to create something big, like the painting of her I'd done for the fundraising ball, a painting I realized I still had somewhere since she never asked for it, but I had no supplies, so I grabbed my phone and made a note to buy some. After, I fished out a pencil from my drawer and flipped open a notepad I was yet to make use of.
I walked over to a sofa close to a tall window and sat on it, knees drawn up and pad pressed against my thigh. I brought the pencil up to the off-white sheet, and began.
Minutes in, it became clear that no matter how much talent or skill you possessed, going long periods without practice was bound to take the edge off things. It wasn't horrible, but it felt mildly foreign, and that resulted in less defined strokes and multiple disproportions. But it didn't phase me. The fact remained that I was doing one of the things that made me feel like me again, and I had hope it was here to stay for some time to come.
My phone rang. Hesitantly, I picked it up, and my chest went dull at the name on the screen.
Ana.
I muted the phone, picked the pencil and continued to sketch, hoping if I didn't let my mind wander to the person calling, then the reality of things would be different from what they actually were.
*
Natalie and Elliot's home filled me with envy.
I made an effort to conceal the green before Natalie joined me, eyes going over the details that were reflections of each person's personality. Elliot kept it classy with an open layout and pricy looking furniture while Natalie slapped some personality around: a mirror with a figure of medusa engraved around it, a bright magenta sofa and large potted plants in vases that looked like they belonged in a museum. I thought they brought a balance to the room. Elliot's space was usually plain, straight to the point. Never things that would make you stare too long.
I took a seat on the magenta sofa, got comfortable. It had a felt feel to the touch, could get a little uncomfortable if the room was hot, but was nice regardless. I got served a glass of wine and was told Natalie would be with me shortly. I nodded, and sipped.
A few minutes later, I heard quick, light footsteps. Cole appeared from the corner and his eyes made contact with mine. He looked back, like he was trying to make sure he wasn't being watched, and approached me.
"Hey, kiddo."
"Uncle Finn, what are you doing here?" He asked, big blue eyes staring up at me while he casually leaned against the sofa.
"I'm here to see your mom. Aren't you happy to see me?"
He shrugged. "I don't know, not really."
I flinched, a mild feeling of offence slapping me in the face. But I couldn't blame the kid. He barely knew me, even if I had known him since he was a toddler. He was three when I left, and it's been over two years since then. Elliot and Natalie came with him to Zürich four months ago, the first time they talked about the wedding since everything changed, and I got to interact with him again, and that was it until the wedding. He didn't exactly have strong core memories of me.
"Shouldn't you be at school now?"
"I was in the beginning," he said languidly, leaning back into the sofa until his head was against it and looked over to me. "But I wasn't feeling good and I told my teacher my stomach hurt and she called mom to come get me."
"Then you should be in bed."
He scrunched up his delicate features. "But I'm so bored! There's nothing to do and mom won't let me play or do anything. She had Wren take away my iPad."
"You should do what she says. She knows better."
There was no missing the look of discontent on his face as he groaned and buried his head into the sofa. He rose it immediately after.
"Can I play games on your phone?"
I stilled for a second, not sure what he was asking, until it hit me. "Games? I don't have any."
His expression turned to a puzzled one. "Why? Everyone has games on their phones."
"That's untrue. I'm an adult. Adults don't have games on their phones."
He shook his head. "My mom has games."
"She has them because of you."
He shook his head harder. "No, she plays them sometimes, like when we're in the car on our way to school. Or when she takes me to Riley's house."
"Really?"
"Yeah. That means your phone is boring. I think everyone should have games on their phone," there was a brief pause before he added, "They'll make you happier and smile more."
I don't know what it was that almost made me ask him for proof that backed the claim. He was a child. I was a grown man with over two decades on him. But what he said felt a little too direct. Did I look unhappy to him?
"Alright, what games do you play, Cole?"
His face brightened as he inhaled deeply.
"Cole? What are you doing out of bed?" Natalie cut him off. He stilled, eyes frozen on mine like he was scared to look at his mother, who was already headed in our direction.
"He was just about to give me excellent game recommendations," I said enthusiastically, beaming at her. She wore a long white dress that bared her shoulders and trailed behind her in a goddess-like manner.
"Not before his doctor's appointment. We leave in two hours, after the two of us have had our first proper chat in literal years." She stopped in front of me, blazing eyes boring into mine. She was a tall woman-a former model after all-but not as tall as I was.
My phone rang in my pocket. I took it out and grimaced at the screen. I could feel Natalie perk up at my reaction.
"Who's Ana?"
There was no other way with Natalie except the truth, and bluntness. She could wrestle the former out of you if she wanted, and you wouldn't enjoy the process.
"A woman I met at my apartment building in Zürich."
"An ex?" She asked. I could feel her raw curiosity behind her careful approach, but I scoffed.
"Not even close. We went on a few dates, I met her aunt on one and that was it."
"Then why did you make that face?"
"What face?"
She shrugged. "I'm not certain, but it looked a little guilty to me."
She never missed.
I looked down at my phone, ashamed of what I was about to say. "I didn't tell her I was leaving." I looked up, expecting to find her in shock, but she was unmoved. "You aren't going to cuss me out?"
"I don't know how to say this without hurting your feelings but, that's a very Finn thing to do."
I blinked in astonishment. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Yeah, well, no offense but it's the truth. But you should call her, and tell her."
I nodded in agreement. "I should."
Her eyes travelled to my phone as she backed away. "Like, right now, don't procrastinate. Return the call, then join me in the balcony."
"Fuck," I muttered softly under my breath, making sure Cole didn't catch it. A young woman in uniform appeared, eyes zeroing in on Cole.
"Take him back to his room." Natalie instructed. Cole looked heavily displeased and his shoulders sagged as the woman beckoned him over.
"Hey, Nat," I called. She turned around. "Can you give him his iPad? He's bored to death, at least until you two leave for the appointment."
The look of hope on Cole's face as he stared at me wide eyed could raise the dead.
Natalie gave a half eye roll. "Fine. Wren, let Cole have his iPad."
With a loud squeal, Cole rushed up the stairway with Wren struggling to keep up.
"No running up the stairs!" Natalie yelled at the top of her lungs. She turned to me. "Make your phone call. I'll be waiting."
She walked out, and I brought up my phone, navigating to Ana's number before hitting the call button.
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a/n: hi. I'd prefer to have this on my message board and not have my personal business here, but not everyone reading follows me, so here goes.
writing hasn't been the easiest and paired with being unwell for ages now, school workload that has me in a chokehold and other obligations, reality doesn't feel like reality.
updates will be sporadic, but I will be trying my best regardless. I appreciate your support and patience :D
side note: I made character aesthetics and posted on Instagram. I'm working on a Spotify playlist (I have no idea how long it'll take) and I want to know, do you have song recommendations for Finn and Amanda's story? let. me. know.
my socials are: thepenprincess_
please click the star button if you enjoyed the chapter!