“Let’s ask Marley when she gets back.”
He grunts. “We didn’t ask Marley when you wanted to showcase books.”
I pray he’ll drop it. Please just drop it. For your own pride—drop it! “You’re right. I should have. That would have been a ton of work wasted on our part if she’d disagreed.” I set a hand on his forearm and feel his muscles tense beneath me. “Let’s just wait a couple more hours. She’ll be home by then.”
He storms off to the front of the store and I give him a few minutes before going to look for him. When I do though, he’s upstairs again. Maybe I should give him space or privacy, but I don’t want to. I snatch my pink lunch bag and search through it on my way up the stairs. Perfect. Summer packed those cheese-pretzel sticks he likes so much.
“Hey,” I say, announcing myself.
His eyes blink open on the couch. “What do you need, Esther?”
“Wow. Friendly. I brought you these.” I toss the mini bag of pretzels to him.
He catches them in the air, holds them up, but doesn’t open them. “Thanks.”
I clear my throat and sit on the couch next to him, though he hasn’t invited me. “Cytha and I used to play this game when we were feeling sort of down.”
He breaths out a sigh and shuts his eyes for a long three seconds. “Es—”
“Humor me a minute.” I pull my legs in and face him. “Whenever I felt like I would never be smart enough, strong enough, or brave enough, we’d play this game and somehow it helped me.”
He stretches out his arm along the back of the couch, near enough that his fingers could brush my arm—if he’d let them.
I wet my lips and nibble on the bottom one for just a second—his distraction making nerves wave in my stomach. “It’s called, If I. It’s a pretty simple concept. You take whatever’s beating you down and say—If I, dot dot dot.”
“Dot dot dot?”
“Yeah, you know, fill in the blank.” I purse my lips, roll my shoulders, and inadvertently—or maybe completely on purpose—move a little closer to him, preparing myself to be a vulnerable. “For example, if I still had my brother, I’d never fight with him. We’d be best friends.”
He sits up a little and pulls the oxygen tubing from his face. “This kind of sounds like a depressing game.” His tone isn’t mean, just wary. His fingers brush the bare skin of my upper arm and I shudder in my next breath.
Swallowing down my nerves, I clear my throat. “I mean, kind of. But for me and Cytha it made us want to be better. You know—you get what you settle for.” The words just come out in a little Louise accent—one I wish I could take back immediately upon seeing Finn’s humorous grin.
“What was that?”
I roll my neck. “Thelma and Louise.”
“Who?”
I throw my head back. “It’s an old movie—like before we were born—but it’s a classic. You haven’t—okay never mind. Just listen—you get what you settle for.” I say it completely normal and Finn laughs a little, like the accent would have been less funny. “When I say to myself—If I still had my brother, I’d never fight with him—it makes me never want to settle for anything less with who I have now.”
His brows raise.
“Okay—I haven’t played it in a while or thought about it in a while.” I know we both think about my uncle and his family—I didn’t exactly cherish those relationships when I first got here.
“You get what you settle for,” he says, accent free.
“Exactly. Try it.”
He shrugs and his hand slides from the back of the couch to the cushions we sit on, his fingers grazing my arm on the way down. “I don’t know what to say.”
I blow out a tense breath and cover his hand with mine. “Try, If I could go to any college I wanted, dot dot dot.”
“Dot dot dot, okay.” He turns my hand over, his fingers tickling at my palm. “If I could go to any college…I don’t know, Esther. I’ve never thought about that.”
I roll my eyes, but slide my fingers through his. Pin pricks run up my fingertips, to my elbows, and into my stomach. “Yes, you have. If I could go to any college—finish it.”
His fingers tighten around my hand. “If I could go to any college, anywhere, I’d pick St. George’s University.”
“See?” My empty hand wraps around our fingers weaved together. “Wait, where is that?”
He smiles a little. “The West Indies.”
I laugh. “Sure, you’ve never thought about this before.”
“Well, why dwell on it when—”
I touch a finger to his lips. “Don’t. That is the opposite of what we’re trying to do.”
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Your turn,” he says once I’ve freed his lips.
“If I…” I think for a minute. “If I knew I wouldn’t get sick, I’d eat peanut butter M&Ms for every meal.”
Okay, not exactly something that’s had me down or incredibly thought provoking, but it makes Finn laugh. Then, he scratches his head, pulling the beany off in the process. He might not be able to find it again, because I’m tempted to steal it and burn it.
“Your turn. How about to go along with St. George’s University—If I could have any job…” I lean toward him, my silent way of telling him to finish.
He crams his eyes closed like it’s an embarrassing question. “Fine,” he flutters his long dark lashes in an eye roll. “If I could have any job… I’d be a doctor.” He shrugs like it isn’t a big deal. “I think it would be nice to help people, since I literally understand how it is to feel like crap.”
I can’t stop the smile that spreads cheek to cheek. “That’s brilliant.” Finn’s eyes are the bluest I’ve ever seen them, and they seem to watch mine, waiting for something.
The bookstore door chimes and my trance ends. My hand has gone sweaty inside of Finn’s. I slide it free and pull my gaze from his. I hurry down the stairs to help or wait on whoever has come in.
Our game is over. Time to get back to work.
Ten minutes before closing, Finn finds his way back to the section where I work. “So, you’re hanging out with the family tonight?”
“Yep.” My insides stir a little, but the thought of Finn going to that fire gives me crazed emotions. “Maybe you should come hang out with me.”
His jaw shifts. “You and Uncle Rodrick, Summer, Harmony and the other two?”
I smirk. “Brayden and Angelo? Yeah. Me and the gang.”
“Thanks,” his lips fold in on one another, “but I promised James and Dominic.”
I spill my guts to Cytha on the drive back to Rodrick and Summer’s house.
“Girl,” Cytha says, “you need to start praying.”
I groan, glancing into the camera when I pause at a stop sign. “Why would you say that?”
“Lisa always said praying changes things.”
“What happened to you get what you settle for, Thelma?” Lisa may have prayed, but Cytha and I always quoted our favorite movie and talked about going and doing. Growing up, Cytha always had gumption and I knew if I didn’t do it myself, it would never happen.