Spin

Thirty-Six

[FINN]

I woke up to a cold, empty bed. The sun was up and it was bright, confirming what I'd already suspected – I'd slept in far longer than I'd intended to. Though I could have easily kept sleeping, the high I was riding hadn't burnt out just yet and there was only one person I wanted to celebrate with on my day off.

I peeled myself out of bed, making a quick pit stop to brush my teeth and freshen up.

"There she is."

Rory wasn't hard to track down, sipping coffee in her favorite spot of the kitchen. She wasn't startled and didn't bother turning around as I wrapped my arms around her from behind, pressing my lips against the soft warmth of her neck.

"Morning, gorgeous."

"Hi," she quietly replied, pulling away from my grip slightly. "Your stubble hurts."

"I'll shave," I hummed in response, tugging her right back against my chest. "Think I want breakfast."

"We have eggs, I think."

"Was craving something else."

I moved my palm down her stomach with full intention to slip it under the waistband of her thong, taken aback as she pulled from my grip once more.

"Not right now, Finn. I have shit to do today."

"Turning down my tongue? Surely not the Rory I know."

She didn't find the joke funny, giving me an unimpressed look before dumping the rest of the coffee into the sink. I leaned my elbow on the counter, watching her curiously. Though we'd had a bit of a weird night, I liked to think it was just that. Her behavior was starting to hint otherwise.

"In all seriousness, what needs to get done today?"

"Things."

"Like what?" I followed her out of the kitchen. She began tidying the living room, confirming my suspicions. Something was definitely wrong. "I've got the day off."

"Good for you," she gave me a forced smile, gently brushing past me. "Watch something, read something, I don't know. I have stuff to get done."

With that, she was gone, disappearing into another room. I stood there speechless, strategizing my next move. Though an argument was the last thing I wanted, I was willing to take a chance and press the subject if it meant she'd tell me what I'd apparently done wrong.

I slipped off to my makeshift studio to make a quick call but couldn't shake the lingering feelings. The second I was off, I was on the hunt for Rory – finding her brooding in the backyard.

"Was getting a tan on the list, then?"

"I'm not fucking tanning, Finn. I'm picking stuff up, it's a mess."

"It was a joke," I muttered, watching her shuffle around collecting towels. "What's wrong, Rory?"

"Nothing."

I followed her back inside, knowing she could only handle the pestering so long – but not caring. I didn't have the patience to play the guessing game.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"I really don't want to do this right now."

"Baby, you faked it last night."

She froze, setting the towels on the kitchen counter. Her eyes narrowed in on me like a predator spotting its prey.

"That's why you're so concerned something is wrong? Your ego is bruised?"