Would You Rather

7 - WYR: eat a thousand roaches or one person?

Edited 12/5 for small details around Ivan Volkov & his mutual relationship to Finley

FINLEY

 "Would you rather..." A voice creeps close to my ear, crowding behind me, deep and pulled with that blended European accent. I would startle, push away from the bar, confront whoever this is, if I didn't recognize the silky timber of that goddamn voice. "Play me for body shots in pool, or play me for rounds of lonkero in darts?"

I think, trying not to focus on his body heat right there. It's like I'm a starved Victorian nun, melting into a puddle at the thought of him close to me again. "Are you stalking me, Fidan?"

He smiles next to my ear, reaching out to wave to the bartender. "Am I stalking you?" His hands land on my hips, a spike of confidence I didn't anticipate from him, a spike of confidence that I didn't anticipate liking, either. "No, I am not stalking you, Nemo, I don't have the free time."

The bartender makes his way over, cleaning off a glass, and stops in front of us.

Fidan looks to me first, "you drinking tonight?"

"Not much."

"Hm," Fidan digs in his back pocket. "Can I get two Finnish Long Drinks with lemon juice in them? Just a bit."

The bartender frowns, "with lemon juice?"

"Trust me." Fidan hands over his card. "Keep my tab open."

The bartender simply nods and walks off, getting down two glasses.

"So," Fidan comes around to the side and I get my first good look at him. He's dressed pretty similarly to yesterday at minigolf, spare for his t-shirt today being blue with a little court jester logo on his collar.

"What's the joker for?" I ask, poking it, getting a feel at his chest with the tip of my finger, firm muscle underneath the pad.

"That's from my very first professional team." He says. "I played for Jokerit for a bit after getting drafted. Got yanked up to play for the Wild last year. Now I'm here."

I pretend like I know what any of that means, looking behind him at my gaggle of friends, out celebrating being done with our pharmacology midterm, returning from their jaunt to find fries.

"Finley!" Our alone time is up, Melissa's mouth halfway open. "You weren't joking about him?"

Fidan turns, an eyebrow up, looking at the group of newcomers, checking back with me for a second before I see him flash her a smile, "hello."

"Melissa," she says, fully focused on him.

"Fidan."

Behind her, Darius and Wiley are giving me a shared look over their basket of fries, eyebrows all the way up, looking between Melissa, Fidan and I.

"Guys," I interrupt Mel and my pool partner. "This is Fidan, Fidan, this is Darius." I point to Dar, mouthing body shots at him and trying not to laugh when his eyes go satellite-dish big. "Wiley." His mustache is twitching, giving me the same look Darius is. "And taking up the rear are Kit and Bronson." Kit is stoned again, Bronson looking just about as tired as he did during our dicks discussion. They're walking over with cheese curds.

"This guy is body shots?" Wiley asks, mouth half open over a fry. "You're body shots?"

"I'm body shots." Fidan's holding in a laugh, leaning against the counter, clearly comfortable with being in the full attention of all these new people.