Page 107 of Rookie Attraction

I’m not panicking or anything, even though my stomach’s clenched tighter than a freaking knot. I’m acting ridiculous again.

Finn’s got stuff to do like everyone else. It doesn’t mean he’s ignoring you.

I can’t sit still, so I decide to take a stroll and clear my head. Shoving my phone in my pocket, I grab my boots, beanie, and a leather jacket. It’s starting to get cold in the city, and I’m not a fan, but the walk will do me good.

The streets are busy as always, and as I pass various shops, I recall the name of the bakery where Finn bought us pastries: You Knead It. Seems appropriate given my circumstances…

I google the address on my phone and start walking in the right direction. It’s late afternoon, though, and by the time I arrive, there’s only a couple of blueberry Danishes and a plain croissant left. I’m so jumpy that I sure as fuck don’t need coffee, but I buy the pastries and a bag of their most popular beans. Not for me. I want to make Finn a latte for breakfast the next time he’s over.

Please let there be another sleepover.

That sounds needy but I don’t care.

Purchases in hand, I continue to walk around the neighborhood, taking note of several restaurants, stores, and galleries that look interesting. I imagine taking Finn out on a date and shake my head at my inane train of thought.

After an hour of exploring, I’m back at my building and most of my restlessness is in check.

Until I tap my phone.

No text from Finn. Damn. I’ve got a few from Damien and other friends, so I reply to those and turn my notifications off. At this point, last night with Finn feels like a month ago.

When I step inside the lobby and finally defrost, I spot Makela waiting by the elevators.

“Hey!” I call out as I get closer.

He turns around and offers me a mischievous smile.

“Kirkland number one! The only one I can stand.”

I chuckle, and when the elevator doors open, Makela looks at my bag.

“I smell something delicious. Bakery? Care to share?”

I shake my head. “They only had enough pastries for one.”

It’s not a total lie.

“For one person or one hockey player?”

“What do you think?” I quip.

We enter the elevator, and I swipe my card, pressing the button for the tenth floor. Makela presses nineteen.

“Do you live here?” I ask.

“No, I’ve got a house in Chelsea.”

“So, you’re visiting someone?”

“Sorensen and Finn, for a video game battle.”

I tense but try to keep my face expressionless.

“Sorensen texted me that food has arrived, so my timing is perfect. I guess I don’t need pastries.” He offers a smirk. “At least, not today.”

“Your stomach is an endless pit,” I remark.

“Is no problem. I work out,” He flexes his biceps. “Look at this body. So strong. I am the Roman god, Mercury.”