Page 21 of The Dangers of Daydreaming (Love Connections #2)

Finn’s lips lifted into a lopsided smile as I moved past him.

He was standing at the foot of the bed, and I had to fit myself between him and the dresser at my back as I turned sideways.

That smile of his stayed in place as he looked down on me, holding me there for the barest of moments.

Caught by his stare. Caught by whatever was deep down there.

Except it wasn’t some unnamed emotion. I knew exactly what it was because he’d told me. What I was seeing was attraction. Appreciation.

And I’d said no to a date.

I was sta rting to regret that decision. But that in itself was reason to stick to it. I couldn’t let attraction—because yes, I could admit I was attracted to Finn—cloud my logic.

I averted my eyes, making it the last inch and a half past him, then beelined for the bathroom.

It didn’t feel fully safe until I had the door closed behind me and the bright lights above the mirror providing much-needed clarity.

I had seen time and again, in myself and in others, what falling too hard, too fast did.

I was watching it play out in real time with my mother and her fiancé.

Add in a guy in another country? How could that possibly work?

No, I’d be better off pretending nothing had happened in that lighthouse and finishing what I came here for.

I may not know him well, but I did know that Finn never seemed completely serious about anything, and he had said himself that it didn’t matter what happened after a date between us.

It might not matter to him, but I wasn’t up for a little fling.

Not only would it be pointless and go nowhere, but it would distract me from my real goal: getting the promotion.

When I got home in a week, it wouldn’t matter if I’d had a good date or even four or five; it would matter if I had a good presentation to get me the job. That’s where my focus needed to be.

I got ready for bed, definitely not lamenting how I’d chosen to pack sweats and a faded T-shirt that said a book a day keeps real life away rather than something cute, took off my makeup, threw my hair on top of my head, and exited the room.

Finn was reading Pretense on his bed when I came out.

His legs were crossed at the ankles, and he was wearing black joggers.

The bathroom had apparently been a buffer, not a cure, from my feelings, because seeing him relaxed like that sent electricity down my spine.

Why was a man holding a book so attractiv e?

As I tucked my things back into my bag, his eyes flicked up over the top of the book. Slowly, they dropped down the length of me, then landed on my hair piled on my head. His lips quirked up.

“You’re cute,” he said.

I shook my head, pulling my phone charger from my bag and plugging it in.

“What?” he asked. “Is there something wrong with complimenting a woman?”

“Yes, when you’re just teasing her.”

“I would never joke about how cute you are, Luce.”

“You’re doing it right now.”

His eyes were on mine, his lips still lifted in a dangerous smile. “No, I’m not.” He set the book down, pages splayed open on the white comforter. “Is it the adjective you take issue with? I could come up with a different one. Pretty. Attractive. Bea—”

“Okay, okay, you make a good thesaurus, I get it.”

“Guess that means we’re a good match,” he said. “Those can be our first Halloween costumes: Dictionary and Thesaurus.” He was sitting on the side of the bed now, leaning back with hands on the blankets and a crooked smile on his face.

“I’ve got some work to do,” I said, deciding that ignoring him was my best bet. Obviously, I couldn’t engage anymore—with that grin on his face and that fire in his eyes, I wasn’t about to win any conversation, no matter how advanced my vocabulary might be.

I pulled out my laptop, lay back on the pillows, and stared at the screen. It took me several long moments to remember what I was supposed to be doing.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Finn said, standing.

“Sounds good.” I didn’t look up. I couldn’t. That expression was going to wear me down, I just knew it.

He rummag ed in his bag and then walked to the bathroom. The tension in my shoulders eased when I heard the shower turn on. And when it later turned off, I quickly slid my laptop onto the nightstand and ducked under the covers; I didn’t want to risk another conversation.

When the door creaked open to the bathroom, I was on my side with the blanket pulled up to my chin. It took him a few minutes, but eventually he flicked the lights off, just leaving the lamp between us on, and I heard him climb into his bed.

How the heck was I supposed to go to sleep like this, knowing he was RIGHT there?

If I rolled over, I could probably reach a hand out and touch his bed.

My heart would not turn to sleep mode and was distinctly stuck in just-saw-a-cop-while-speeding mode.

Another minute passed, and my phone buzzed.

I had it under the covers with me, so I quickly dimmed the screen and pulled it close to see who had messaged.

Finn: You don’t need to pretend to be asleep to avoid me.

The entirety of my body reacted to that little message. It vibrated again.

Finn: Sweet dreams, Luce.

I was sure he was watching me for a reaction, so I just quietly slid the phone under the pillow and shut my eyes tight, trying to pretend that every single one of my nerves wasn’t standing deliciously on end from his nearness.