Would You Rather

25 - WYR: just decide that you're nothing more, or let your heart pick?

FINLEY

There's a tap in the corner of my view, the bartender waving a hand to catch my attention. When I look over, he's setting down a coaster and a glass on top, a foggy sort of drink in it and my heart clenches when I see the lime.

Fidan.

"A friend just sent this over." The bartender raises his eyebrows at me, making sure I want the drink. I nod to him before leaning in, catching his attention again.

"Was it a tall guy? Mustache? Sort of a mullet? Cut through his eyebrow?"

He nods. "That's the guy."

"Is he still here?"

A head shake. "Nah he closed his tab and headed out. He's still got a friend here, though."

Bronson's raincoat shuffles when he leans closer. "Mustache? Your friend has a mustache now?"

I bite my lip, the little flurry of excitement roaring to life in my stomach despite the fact that my friend isn't even here. "Yeah. It's a fundraiser for the team."

Bronson doesn't respond, just looks at me.

"I'm..." I pick up the lonkero. "I'm gonna go find whichever teammate he was here with. Gonna see why he's been acting strange." The Fidan I've gotten used to would've waltzed right over and probably slid his hands around my waist or something. Stolen a sip of the drink he got for me. Said something insane into my ear.

"Come on, Fin." Bronson stops me with a hand on my arm. "Just for once can you go out with all of us after an exam and not go run after some random pro hockey asshole who definitely doesn't like you? You're here with your friends and all of a sudden just because some guy sends you a drink you wanna host a whole search party."

I sit back down on my hands, looking at the counter. I suppose he's kind of right. I haven't been to Casey's this semester with my friends without Fidan interrupting. But it's been a welcome interruption. Maybe my friends didn't see it like that.

"I didn't know you guys felt... left behind? I thought everyone kinda liked hanging out with them every once in a while."

Bronson makes a face, beard bristling, "it's just. What do they know about us, right? Completely different walks of life. Whatever his name is probably doesn't even know the first thing about the stressors you experience on a daily basis."

"I'm not dating him, so he doesn't need to."

Bronson sits back in his chair, crossing his arms, "you don't need to be. It's... even someone you're sleeping with should probably understand you."

I chew my lip. "It's just sex, Bronson. Not a philosophical experience."

"I know you too well to believe it when you say you don't want a philosophical experience. You might not be easy to be friends with and you might always be busy but when push comes to shove you want a man with a brain that can keep up with yours. Concussion Charlie isn't ever gonna be that."

Darius leans into our conversation from his with Kit and Wiley. "You guys talking about Fidan?"

"Yeah." Bronson gestures at my drink, watching my fingers brush through the condensation against the bottom. "He sent her a drink."

"He's here?" Darius stands up, looking around.

"No, but he was a minute or so ago." I take a sip off the top. The lime really makes it. Adds something. Reminds me of the first time we spoke, letting him lick tequila off my stomach. I suppose Bronson is right. That's a rather debauched How I met your Mother story. But who am I kidding? Why am I thinking about Fidan-nice-cock-Koskinen like I'm going to be spending a long time with him? Bronson just said it right, he's not really... in my wheelhouse. He's a good fuck, but. But.