Finley
Monday is the first time all four of us hang out since everything happened between Harlyn and I. Well, that's not entirely true. Harlyn and I both went to pick Max and Elly up from the party Friday night, but we weren't all together for more than ten minutes before we went our separate ways. Harlyn took Elly home, and I half dragged Max back to Harlyn's house. The point is it doesn't really count.
We all decide to meet up for lunch at Nando's. But when I show up, Elly's the only one there, dressed as stylishly as always in a gray skirt, black tights, boots, and her ever present purple coat. She grins when she sees me.
"Hello, babes," she says, going in for a hug.
"Hey, Elly," I say. "You look fantastic, as usual."
She pulls back and grins wider. "You are too sweet, Finley."
"Is it just you and me?" I ask.
She holds up her phone. "Harlyn texted in the group chat. He said he and Max are on their way, but they're running late."
"Of course," I say, pulling out my phone. He sent it while I was walking here. And he sent me an individual text, too, saying he's excited to see me.
"That's a big grin," Elly says. She raises an eyebrow at me.
I shrug and pocket my phone. "I'm happy."
"Anyone in particular making you that happy?"
"Just...Max," I lie. "He's, uh, he's funny."
"He is indeed hilarious," she agrees.
"Who's hilarious?" Harlyn asks from behind me. I have to fight the urge to hug him hello. Would that be weird? Probably. We've never greeted each other that way before.
"Max," Elly answers.
Max grins. "Obviously."
We all file into Nando's, order, and claim a table. We mostly talk about our rescheduled Harry Potter studio tour Max and I finally did on Saturday. And we discuss when we're going to finish our Harry Potter marathon at Harlyn's house. The party doesn't come up. Not that I expected it to. Max hasn't brought it up with me, even though we were together all day Saturday and spent Sunday afternoon with Amelia.
I try my best to stay cool. But it's hard when Harlyn's sitting across the table. He smiles at me a few times, and I have to keep the swoon off my face. Because Max knows it way too well. Thankfully, like I keep telling Harlyn, Max knows I have a crush on him, so a goony look here and there isn't a huge deal. He'll just tease me about it. I can take that.
Harlyn keeps his eyes away from me completely, unless he's talking directly to me. Or I'm talking in general. But I see his hand twitch like he's going to hug me when we leave. He doesn't. Just rushes off to get to class. I want to kiss him goodbye, but I have to settle for seeing him later today while Max is in class. Elly splits off toward her campus after Harlyn disappears, and Max and I take a leisurely pace down High Street.
"Remember our first time walking down High Street?" I ask. "After our orientation at the library? The day we had Nando's for the first time?"
"Of course. How could I forget?" Max says, watching a woman push a stroller past us.
"I was so intimidated by all of these places, the thought of trying to find time to explore everything." I gaze up at the Royal Museum, a place I have yet to visit. "Now we've been here two months, and it feels like home."
Max shoots a smile up at me. "It does, doesn't it?" He pauses. "How are you feeling about all of that? About possibly moving here?"
"I'm leaning toward it more, for sure," I say. "Still terrified, mostly of telling my parents, honestly."
"That's fair," Max says. "If you want me to be there when - if - you do, I will be."
"Thank you." We reach the city wall and cross under the roundabout. "How are you doing? After Friday night?"
He takes a long time to answer, and we're passing a tattoo shop when he finally speaks up and points at it. "I think I'm going to get a tattoo."
"Excuse me?" I cough.
"Well, you know I've always wanted one," he reminds me.
"I mean, yes. Just seems very out of the blue right this moment," I say. He's talked about it for a couple of years now, always going back and forth between what he actually wanted to get.
He laughs. "Well, I don't mean I'm going to get it right now. But I was going to ask if you want to come with me next Saturday. We don't have anything planned. Well, we're doing the coast with Harlyn and Elly in the morning but nothing in the afternoon."
"If you want me to, sure." We reach another crossing and wait. "Have you decided what you want to get? And where? You've had a lot of ideas."
"Mm, I'm deciding between two. It'll be a surprise for you," he announces.
"Going to get my name across your back, right?" I ask, nudging him with my elbow.
"Of course, darling," he says, drawing the words out in a garish English accent and staring at me over his glasses.
He doesn't bring up Friday again, and I don't ask.
***
As soon as Harlyn's bedroom door is closed behind me, he pulls me into his arms and squeezes tight.
"Hello," I say, squeezing him back.
He sighs. "Hi." And then he pulls back. "Sorry. That was a lot."
There's hesitation and anxiety on his face again, the same look he gave me on Friday when he told me he didn't know how to do this. Being in his room alone is another new thing. I'm very aware of the newness of this, of the weirdness. That even though we all but cuddled Friday night, we're still not completely comfortable with...whatever this is. But it's Harlyn. And I haven't been alone with him in three days. And all I wanted to do at lunch was hold his hand. And he's right here. He doesn't need to apologize for anything.
"Harlyn," I whisper, stepping up to him and taking his face in my hands. "It's ok. I promise I'll let you know if it's too much."
He nods. The anxiety sticks. But he pulls me onto his bed and into his lap, burying his face in the back of my neck. His breath raises goosebumps. He clings to me like he thinks I might run if he lets go just a little.
"Everything alright?" I ask. He nods. "You sure?"
"Just missed you. Haven't been alone since Friday night. That's three whole days."
"I know." I rub his arm. "And to think, this time last week, I was just coming to get a notebook."
He laughs. "Yes, that night ended up different, didn't it?"
"That's an understatement."
We sit in silence for a moment. And I take the chance to look around his room. It's the first time I've been in here at all. It's bigger than Max's, but it's almost identical. His bed is pushed up against the wall, there's a desk next to it, and a dresser and wardrobe on the other side of the room. It feels like Harlyn, though. There are posters all over the walls, books piled up on the desk, plastic glow in the dark stars stuck on the ceiling, and what I think is one of Elly's hair scarves draped over the back of his swivel chair. It's like his room is hugging me, too.
Because my brain can't sit still, it drifts to, well, everything. Moving here. Telling my parents if I decide to move here. What Harlyn and I will look like if I decide not to move here. Am I leaning toward moving here more just because of Harlyn? I can't move here just because of a boy. This is stupid. I can't make a decision to save my life.
I try to force my anxiety away and be in the moment, enjoy the feeling of Harlyn's arms around me and his chest pillowing my back. But I can't. Harlyn notices right away.
"What is it?" he asks. I shake my head. "No, it's not nothing."
"Just have a lot on my mind. As usual." I catch the inside of my cheek with my teeth. "It never seems to slow down."
"What all is up there?" he asks, kissing my temple. It's so gentle I almost cry.
"Too much," I admit. I've been holding everything in the last week. Pushing it down. Ignoring it. Focusing on Max and this new amazing thing with Harlyn. But reality is starting to set in. I can hear Eliza gently telling me I need to talk about it. But - what was it Harlyn said last week? - the words seem stuck. The thoughts are all over the place. I can't really grasp onto one. "It hasn't been like this in a while."
He pushes me up a bit and says, "Here. Turn around."
"Why?" I turn around anyway, my legs stretching under his left knee and my back against his right.
"Because I can read your eyes." He leans his head to one side and smiles.
"Oh, can you?" I ask.
"Sometimes," he says. "What is it?"
I shake my head. "All over the place. I told you I understood when things don't want to come out."
"And what else did you tell me?" he asks. I stare at him. "You told me to take my time." He brushes my hair behind my ear, a gesture I'm falling a bit in love with. "So, I'm going to tell you the same. Take your time."
I stare at my hands. "Do you really want to put up with all of this?" It's not what I really meant to say. I meant to simply list the things I've been suppressing for days until something stuck that I actually had enough to talk about. But as the words hang in the air between us, I'm anxious to know the answer.
"Finley Bowers." His hand falls from my hair to my hands in my lap. "I know it has only been a week. And we've only known each other for a couple of months. But I hope you know that even if this -" he points between us "- had never happened, even if we were just friends, I would still want to put up with you. All of you. All the mess. All the anxiety. Because guess what?"
"What?" I ask.
"All of you also comes with so much good. Too much good to give up." God, he's sweet.
I smile. "No wonder you had all the girls falling at your feet in school."
He blushes to the tips of his ears. "Don't remind me. I was a terrible boyfriend. I only had girlfriends because that's what I thought I was supposed to do." This is a new revelation to me.
"I thought you were the resident playboy, Mr. Evans."
"According to literally everyone else, yes. But not to me." He rubs his thumb across the back of my hand. "Well, maybe. Sometimes. I felt like it. But I was just doing it because I had to. Because I had to take care of everyone else."
"Did you want to have that many girlfriends?" I ask.
He shrugs. "Not really. I mean, I definitely liked all of the girls. They all broke up with me. I thought it was because I didn't care enough, wasn't doing enough."
"I don't believe that," I say.
"You didn't know me then."
"Well, I know you now," I insist. "Even if you were an uncaring playboy then - which I don't buy - you definitely aren't now."
"Yes, well, I'm afraid I've been an uncaring friend."
"What are you talking about?"
He slumps back against his headboard. "You're changing the subject."
"Yes, I am," I say. "We can come back to me later. Believe me, we'll have plenty to talk about. But I want you to tell me what you meant by that. Because I don't believe for one second that you're an uncaring friend."
"I thought so, too. Until I talked to Elly on Saturday." He pulls his hands back and pulls on his fingers, one by one. He doesn't fidget often, or ever really. It's unnerving. "I've missed a lot. She hasn't...told me a lot this term. And even last term. And I...don't know what I did wrong."
I keep my hands in my lap. "Harlyn..." I'm not sure what to say.
"She's been having trouble at school. With her grades. She was last term, too. But she scraped by. Her dad's been down her throat about it. They're fighting apparently. And I didn't know any of this." His face twitches. "We've both been busier this year. We haven't spent as much time together. But I didn't realize how much I've missed."
"Harlyn, that doesn't mean you've been uncaring," I say.
"I've been so concerned with myself that I've missed all of this." He pulls harder on his fingers. "This is why I don't take care of myself. Because then I lose people." He stops talking, eyes wide, as if he's surprised himself.
"That's a big thing to realize."
"Yeah," he breathes. "I don't...know where that came from."
"It sounds like it came from a lot."
He meets my eyes, but it's like he doesn't completely see me. "What do you mean?"
"I don't want to psychoanalyze you if you don't want me to."
He shakes his head but says, "I want you to."
"Well," I say slowly, trying to keep my voice even as I try to gather my thoughts. "As you just said, you think all your girlfriends broke up with you because you didn't care enough. You've talked about your brother before. Leaving. How it left your mom a bit lost. I think it left you a bit lost, too. And now...with Elly..." I don't finish the sentence.
"I don't want to lose her," he whispers.
"Harlyn. Look at me." I grab his hands again, and he looks up. "Elly adores you. She's not going anywhere. Your relationship is just changing. And that's ok." He looks unconvinced. "I know what it's like to lose a friend, to feel like it's my fault. But you're not going to lose Elly. You're both too stubborn for that. Too connected. You love each other too much. You're practically joined at the hip."
He smiles. "I guess."
"And as for taking care of yourself...you're no good to anyone else if you're burnt out and tired and have nothing left to give," I say.
He squeezes my hand. "You know, Mum said something very similar to that at the end of last term when everything was crazy."
"I knew I liked her for a reason." He laughs, but there's still a tension in his body, a rigidness. "Did Elly tell you when she talked to you about this that it was your fault that you didn't know?"
"Of course not," he says begrudgingly.
"Well, I think you two just need to have a good long conversation. About everything you've just told me. About everything she told you. Figure out where you're at. And figure out how to keep going." I pause. "You're adults now. In college. Things are going to change. That's life. But that doesn't mean you have to lose each other."
He nods slowly before pulling his leg out from behind me and curling up to put his head in my lap again. It's strange how natural it feels, playing with his hair.
"You're very wise, you know," he says.
"Mm. I don't know about that. I just pay attention."
"I'm going to tell her. I'm going to tell her about you. About us." His eyes are worried, but his voice is firm. "You're right. We need to have a good long talk. I don't know when it'll happen. Our schedules for the next couple weeks or so are crazy. But I will tell her. Soon."
"Only if you're ready," I remind him.
"I'm ready. I don't want to keep things from her anymore."
I pull one of his curls straight and let it go. "Well, I'm excited for you then."
"And then we can tell Max." He smiles at me. "I know it's hard keeping it from him."
I shrug. "It's easy to cover most of the time by the fact that he knows I have a hopeless crush on you. Plus, he seemed drunk enough on Friday night that he believed your story that we were studying."
"He was absolutely sloshed," Harlyn says. "Does he usually drink like that? Has Elly pulled him along?"
"No. To both. I think there's something else going on." I wind one of his curls around my finger. "I know he's been getting slack from his parents. I need to talk to him, too."
"Guess we both have big jobs to do."
I sigh. We do.