The Finn Factor

She’d been horrified when she’d found out I’d been thrust into the role of a parent at eighteen. In her mind, I’d missed out on part of my growing up years, which apparently could be rectified by an overabundance of small, stuffed bears. In fact, Scarlett saw it as her duty to bring teddy bears into my life. Which had led to my bedroom wall being covered in teddy bear paintings. I had to admit, it was kind of a sweet thing to do, despite my teasing every time she gave me one.

Giving in, I held up my hands and backed up a step. “I’m going to hit the shower. Are you home for di

“Yep.” She put her brush in the jar of water. “But I don’t feel like cooking. How about I order pizza?”

“Sounds good,” I said and made a hasty retreat to the shower.

Scarlett

The pizza arrived and I took it straight into the kitchen. Fi

I grabbed a jar from the cupboard—giving the icemaker a little pat on the way past—but couldn’t get the lid off.

“Fi

“Sure.” He reached to take it from me, but there was something different in the action. He placed his fingers at the bottom of the jar, careful to not let them brush mine at the top. It was disappointing he had to be so careful, but then I realized he was doing us both a favor, helping to put the boundaries back in place.

He opened the jar, and I fixed his half then took the whole thing to the living room. I threw the pizza box onto the coffee table and we sat on the floor on opposite sides. Normally we chatted about our day, about friends, about anything, really, but tonight we were eating in silence.

I glanced over at him and watched him take a bite. His lips moved as he chewed, the same lips that had kissed me like there was no tomorrow. My lungs felt tight.

“Scarlett,” he said, his voice a little rough. “You need to stop looking at my mouth.”

I swallowed hard. “Huh?”

“How do you think this guy you’re going to date will feel about you staring at my mouth?”

I put the pizza down and wiped my fingers on a napkin. “Maybe we should talk about what happened last night?”

“Nope,” he said, his dark blue eyes panicked. “Let’s just move on.”

That was Fi

He shook his head. “Not everything is made better by talking.”

This “not talking” wasn’t getting us anywhere. Maybe it would be better to simply jump into the deep end of the conversation. “Fi

“You’re doing it again,” he said, his voice tight.

“Doing what?”

“Watching my mouth while you talk.” He took another bite of pizza. When he finished chewing, his eyes flicked away then back to me again. “It’s distracting.”

“Sorry.” I adjusted my sparkly purple glasses.

He drew in a deep breath. “Look—”

There was a knock at the door and I dropped my pizza.

Fi

As I watched him go, I wondered what he’d been about to say. We’d never had trouble talking before. Well, occasionally I had to give him a little nudge, but that was a guy thing. This was different. If we’d damaged our friendship, I’d never forgive myself.

The door squeaked open. “Fi

“John,” Fi

My parents? Weren’t they doing a camping trail across the outback? I wiped my hands and met them as they were coming through the living room.

“Baby!” My dad enveloped me in his arms. He gave the best hugs.

My mother dragged Fi

When we all let go, I wiped away the moisture around my eyes. “This is a great surprise. I thought you were miles away.”

They shared a look before my dad said, “It’s been too long, and we missed you kids. When we leave here, we’ll drop in and visit Thomas.”

“Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?” Fi

My father nodded. “We’re heading for a campground.”

Fi

“Oh, no,” my mother said. “We couldn’t put you out. But if you’re serious about your offer, we could pitch the tent in your backyard while we’re in town?”

“Stay here in the house,” Fi

Fi

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” my father said with finality. “Just open the gate so we can drive around the back and we’ll pop the tent up in no time.”

Fi

“Sure,” he said and went out to open the gate.

My heart warmed at his easy generosity. Though I shouldn’t have been surprised—the very fact I was living here for nominal rent and a share of the utilities had proven that. He’d said he was sick of helping me move after what had to be close to a world record of seventeen times in two years, but I knew it was more than that. Sure, there had been creepy roomies who stole my underwear, and roomies who played music so loud I could never study. Roomies who’d been arrested for growing drugs in the spare room, and roomies who’d thought the prank of hiding my coffeemaker had been hilarious, even after the eighth time.

Fi

I shoved the last bite of pizza in my mouth and followed him out to the backyard.

My parents had the process of setting up tents down to a fine art, but still we spent the next hour in the backyard with them erecting the tent, pumping up the air mattress, and unpacking their old car. When we made it into our living room again, Fi

I turned my head as it rested on the back of the cushions so I could see him. “Thanks for letting them stay.”

He shrugged, like it was no big deal to have a huge tent taking up his backyard. “They’re your family. Of course they’re welcome. Though they should have stayed in the house.”

“They’ll be happier out there,” I said, knowing from a lifetime of experience that it was true. “Houses make them feel confined.”