American Cliché - Finneas story

Late nights and Café lights

Title: American Cliché

Chapter One: Late Nights & Café Lights

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Y/N could feel her heart pounding as she walked briskly down the sidewalk, her mind racing through a dozen different excuses for why she was late. She’d spent far too long staring at herself in the mirror, questioning her outfit, touching up her hair—she wanted to look perfect, or as close to it as possible, for her first date with Finneas.

The glowing lights of the small French café came into view, and she spotted him instantly. Finneas sat by the window, his silhouette softened by the warm golden light streaming out onto the street. He looked every bit as enchanting as he did on stage, except here he seemed more grounded, more real. She took a deep breath, pushing away the lingering nerves and stepping through the door.

The moment Finneas looked up and saw her, his face lit up in a way that made her heart flutter. Standing, he met her halfway and, without a second of hesitation, said, "Goddamn, you’re beautiful."

The words hung in the air between them, his voice soft but certain. Y/N felt her cheeks go warm, and all the anxieties that had followed her into the café seemed to dissolve in the warmth of his gaze.

“Sorry, I’m late,” she stammered, managing a nervous laugh. “I got a little—”

“Distracted by your own beauty?” he teased, guiding her to the table with a gentle smile. “No worries, I’d wait forever.”

As they sat, Y/N's nerves bubbled just below the surface, but Finneas’s presence felt comforting. His energy was calm, and he didn’t seem to notice her occasional fidgeting or the way her fingers played with the edge of the menu. He leaned in, his voice low and soothing, and began to tell her stories—stories about the studio, random adventures with Billie, and the little quirks of being in the spotlight.

With every word, he seemed to pull her out of her own head, making her forget where they were and that anyone else even existed. They laughed over shared jokes, the kind that only made sense in the cozy, private world forming between them. She shared pieces of herself, surprising even herself with how easily the words came.

They barely noticed when the waiter brought their food, too lost in each other’s words. Finneas reached across the table at one point, his fingers brushing hers, grounding her when she felt the edges of anxiety creeping in. It was such a small touch, but it meant everything. She felt seen, safe, and somehow... enough.

At the end of the night, Finneas walked her home, the two of them wrapped up in soft laughter and whispered secrets. And as they stood under her porch light, he gave her one last smile, that familiar warmth in his gaze as he leaned in and brushed his lips softly against her forehead.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked, a gentle smirk on his lips.

Y/N nodded, trying to contain the giddy feeling rising in her chest. As she stepped inside, she realized that tonight, for the first time in a long time, her anxiety hadn’t overshadowed everything. Finneas had seen right through it, and somehow, that made all the difference.