Page 21 of Forever Finn

“Yeah?” He smiles widely. “So, does this mean…”

“I want to figure out why I came back to the bay,” I tell him honestly. “I want time to figure out what I want from my life… from my career… but also I want to figure out if whatever this is between us could be something special.”

“I want that for you too, all of it.” His hands rest on my hips.

Suddenly, he yanks me forward, tossing me over his shoulder like he’s about to carry me from a burning building. I let out an embarrassingly high-pitched laugh. No one has ever had the strength to pick me up and toss me about like a doll before.

“What are you doing?” I ask a little breathlessly.

“You can call your manager later,” he laughs. “Right now, you need a celebratory blow job.”

He hauls me back into the bedroom, and I realise that coming back to the bay… may end up being the best decision I’ve made in years.

10

“So you finally got some dick?”

“Classy, Sky, very classy,” I deadpan, but I can’t help the smug, satisfied twitch of my lips as I hold the phone closer to my ear and check behind me to make sure no one is listening before turning my attention back to my best friend. “It’s not as if it’s the first time I’ve had a dick, as you so succinctly put it.”

“Semantics, darling,” she replies with a small laugh. “It’s your first time being on the receiving end if you know what I mean.”

“How could I not know what you mean?” I shift and wince at the soreness in my arse. “I’m the one walking like John Wayne.”

“Finn, why does it sound like a wind tunnel?” she blurts.

“Er, rude,” I reply dryly. “That’s really very personal.”

“For fuck’s sake,” she snorts. “I meant why does it sound like you’re trapped in a wind tunnel, it’s very noisy.”

“Not a tunnel.” I shrug even though she can’t see me. “I’m sitting on The Rock.”

“Dwayne Johnson?” she says mildly. “My goodness you do get around. Did you finally unleash your inner slut?”

“I don’t have an inner slut.” I smile. “It’s more like an inner librarian. He likes the peace and quiet and has an insatiable love of colour coding things.”

“Don’t remind me,” she says fondly. “The last time I let you organise my closet it was like a multicoloured, obsessive compulsives wet dream.”

“But isn’t it now easier to find what you’re looking for?” I point out.

“I’ll have to take the fifth on that one.”

“In answer to your earlier question”—I return to the subject at hand—“no, it’s not a wind tunnel, and unfortunately not Dwayne Johnson either. I’m literally sitting on a huge rock overlooking the beach, and the sound you can hear is the wind coming in off the ocean.”

“What are you doing sitting alone on a rock in the middle of nowhere,” she asks slowly.

“It’s not the middle of nowhere.” I shake my head smiling softly. “I'm still in the bay.”

“So why the rock?”

“It’s one of Jesse’s favorite places. He said it helped to sit out here and think when he needed to clear his head, so I thought I’d try it out,” I say contemplatively, as I stare out across the rippling water.

“And is it helping?” she asks knowingly.

“No, it’s very blowy and my arse is numb,” I concede.

“So much innuendo,” she bemoans. “You have no idea how much I’m biting my tongue right now.”

“I appreciate your self-restraint.” I smile affectionately. “You know, that’s one of the things that has always fascinated me about you.”