𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 | 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞

Chapter 22

Finn

I'm sitting in the passenger seat of Millie's car messing with the stereo. It's the first day I've seen her since her mom's service and I'm really fucking hoping we're not going to have this huge ass conversation like girls like to have. Yeah she stayed and yeah we didn't have sex. We both know what happened—or that nothing happened. The end.

"You have shitty music," I tell her. When I resort to the radio, you know my options are limited.

She shrugs. "I'm not all that into music."

This surprises me. "You dance."

"Yeah and I listen to music for dancing. When music is on I'm thinking about my body and how to move and it makes me want to do more than just sit around."

I look at her and grin. "I'm thinking about your body and how it moves too."

She quickly glances at me. "I'm kind of impossible not to think about."

I laugh because it's true and she's probably the only woman I know who would have the balls to say it.

"Or touch." I reach over and slide my hand up her leg. Unfortunately she's wearing jeans, but I let my hand creep higher.

"You're distracting me."

"That's the point." I never expected to have fun with her like this. I don't have fun with anyone like this, but just like it's hard not to think about her body, it's hard not to enjoy her too. Yeah she pisses me off, but that kind of makes it better.

And then because we're almost to the party and it's only been a few days since she buried her mom, I ask. "You sure you're cool with going out?"

Again she looks over at me. I can't see her real well because it's dark, but I know her eyes are on me. "Why Finn, one would think you're a nice guy."

Her comment annoys me a little. Not because I think I'm this nice guy, but because she's always deflecting shit. She's had a lot go down lately. I've seen her when she breaks and know she's not doing as well as she wants people to think. Or maybe as good as she thinks.

But fuck. That's what I'm supposed to be. A distraction. I knew that going into it and know it now so I don't know what the hell my problem is with it. Maybe it's because I'm in the same boat.

"We both know I'm not a nice guy. And we both know there's a lot of shit in your head too. That's why I'm asking. If you don't want to answer, tell me you don't. Don't play me."

"I don't want to answer." We're quiet for a few minutes. I'm feeling way more pissed than I have a right to be. Finally she speaks. "It's hard. I'm trying to deal. Distractions help. Fun helps. You...help." The last part I can tell she didn't want to say.

Did I want to hear it? I don't know. "Good."

"How's your mom?"

Fuck. Why did I start this? I just gave her shit so it's not like I can't answer her now. "The same...how else? There's nowhere to go, but down."

"You never—"

"You saw her, Mills. There's no hope. She stopped treatment. Hospice has been involved. We both know what's going to happen." The words hurt coming out. I want to close my mouth. Trap them in, but it won't make things any different.

Now it's her hand that's on my leg. "So...tonight... When we get home... Do you wanna?" There's laughter in her voice.

"Fuck yeah I wanna."

We pull up at the house for the party. It's out of the way and on property and I can see the bonfire out back already.

I'm about to open the door when Millie asks, "What's the deal with you and Jacob?"