High by the Beach • France

Chapter Seven

"Finn, can I tell you something, just promise not to be an asshole, alright?" Vance began, he had been working up the courage to say this for so long, now was the time.

After their trip, the two roommates went back to their rooms to do homework—which really consisted of doing nothing and trying to spell words on their calculators while The Front Bottoms played in the background—so the sudden conversation starting by Vance was a change of pace.

"Yeah, of course, you could tell me anything," Finney smiled, watching as his friend pulled out a letter and fiddled with it in his hands. "I... like Bruce, like like him—God, I feel like a fucking middle schooler, whatever. We almost kissed on the night of the party and ever since then i've really liked him, anyways, um, I made him this and, I was wondering if you would give it to him?"

Finney's heart dropped as Vance told him the news—he liked Bruce. Finney had been in love with his friend since he first gave him that pencil and it wasn't Vance's fault or anything, it's not like he knew anything about that, but god, Finney knew about Vance's crush and for whatever reason he felt guilty, really guilty. Quickly he shook himself out of his own head and took the letter. "What's this?" He cleared his throat.

"It-it's... a poem," Vance cringed at himself as he spoke those words. "Don't read it please, I would prefer if only one set of eyes saw the monstrosity that is my shitty poetry," He half-joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Oh, okay, i'll do that the next time I see him," Finney nodded. "Thanks man," Vance smiled back.

"Yeah..."

•••

The following night Finney snuck out while Vance was asleep—well he didn't really sneak out since curfew didn't forbid anyone from leaving thier room just the building, though curfew did limit them from entering anyone elses room, so in reality he snuck into Bruce's room.

On his way over he felt a knot in his stomach from what Vance had told him, that only grew larger as he lightly knocked on the door. The poem he had promised to give Bruce was in his pocket as Finney paused and looked around for any signs of staff only to find none. The door promptly opened and the boy was pulled inside.

"Hey," Finney swallowed hard as he greeted Bruce, who he could already tell wae acting a bit strange—something about his demener had changed, he just wasn't exactly sure what.

"Hi, Finn," Bruce smiled lazily as he sat down on his bed calling for his guest to follow which he hesitantly did. "So, what's going on? Why did you ask me over?" The teenager questioned and Bruce started laughing unprompted causing a lightbulb to go off in Finney's head. "Holy shit, Bruce Yamada, are you high?" Finney chortled. Bruce was the most straight A person on the planet, this wasn't like him at all. "I have no idea what your talking about." Bruce smiled as the two friends fell into a soft silence that was broken up only a few moments later.

"Hey..." Bruce softly called out, his hand found it's way to the shorter boy's knee as he leaned in ever so slighly. Finney's stomach twisted with this action as he remebered Vance—if anything ever happened between them, he would never forgive him. Finney wasn't sure if he truly thought something was going to happen, all he knew was that he didn't know what to think.

"This is going to sound crazy, but i'm not crazy, I swear i'm as sane as i've ever been–" Finney's body began to crumble as Bruce said these next few words.

"–would you be my first kiss?"

Finney's eyes widened as his mind went blank, he wasn't sure what to comment on, the fact that Bruce wanted him to be his first kiss or the othet fact that Finney was under the impression that Bruce had already had his first kiss—the second one was not as important as the first, but it was what Finney went with anyway in order to avoid actual conversation.

"First kiss?" He stuttered and Bruce pulled away with a scoff leaving Finney confused. "Why does everyone think im like... im like a slut or something?"

"Woah! No one thinks that!–" This time it was Finney who leaned in. "–It's just... you've had like 7 boyfriends and 8 girlfriends all in the span on like 5 years plus the thing with—"

"The stupid football player?" Bruce finished Finney's sentance. "Guess what, that was just a rumor, I didn't do anything! I can't believe my own best friend would believe him over me," Bruce shook his head with a frown though he was right. "No, i'm sorry, I shouldn't have." Finney scolded himself for ruining everything—maybe Vance wasn't joking all of those times he called him an idiot.

Bruce rolled his eyes but his tone was soft. "I don't care Finn—you mean so much to me and I don't think you could ever do anything to take that away–" Finney could feel a smile grow on his face as Bruce leaned in once again. "–So, would you be my first kiss?" He asked. "I've never kissed anyone either..." Finney muttered, pulling himself closer to Bruce who simply smiled.

"Perfect."

The gap between them was closed as they breathed each other in before softly exhaling with loud and breathy sighs, hands gripped hair and clothes at any attempt they could to be close.

Bruce opted for speed as he left Finney trying to catch up—the boy was tired of going slow, everything he did was neat and well thought out, just once he wanted to do something he wanted to do. Finney on the other hand wasn't sure where this would take them in the future, if this would take them anywhere.

The fact that Bruce was high therefore he probably didn't have the best judgement at the moment only crossed Finney's mind once, though he had been dreaming of this for so long that he almost forgot that he was supposed to feel bad.

When the two boys pulled away from each other everything came rushing back—slowly but surly—Finney rested his head on Bruce's shoulder as he tried finding the strength to go back, to walk away.

Finney had been in love with Bruce before he even knew that Vance existed, it wasn't his fault that his friend was too late—Finney would've told himself anything if it meant he wasn't the asshole in the situation, but no matter how much he lied he would always be in the wrong, he wished it could've been different.

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Word count: 1,140