Finley
"I don't know what to tell you, Maxie," Harlyn hums. "Relationships are hard."
Max's sigh echoes through Harlyn's room, and even though I can't see the screen, I know he's rolling his eyes at Harlyn's nickname. "I hate that that nickname stuck."
"I don't know why you're so resistant to nicknames," I chuckle, pulling at Harlyn's curls. He's currently sprawled on top of me, head resting on my sternum. Max called me while Harlyn was in the bathroom, and when he got back, he flopped between my legs, plucked my phone from my hand, and started advising Max on his girl troubles. Since I've never had girl troubles, I'm content to listen.
"I don't know why you two are so obsessed with giving me nicknames," Max counters. "Anyway..."
Harlyn nods. "Right. Dana."
Max already filled me in on the fight he had with Dana, and I already gave my two cents. So, I half tune out their conversation, focusing on pulling Harlyn's tight curls apart. It's entertaining to watch Harlyn and Max interact over video call. It's entertaining to watch them interact in general. I'm lucky that my best friend and boyfriend are such good friends, even if it means that they team up against me.
Once Max is satisfied with the advice, he turns the conversation to the first week of classes and how it went. Harlyn is overly dramatic in telling Max about his course load this year. The majority of it is his thesis research that he's trying to line up. But he does have a couple lectures and seminars throughout the week. I fill Max in on my classes, too. Harlyn holds my phone over his head so Max can see me when I talk. I try to take it from him, but he just moves my hand back to his hair.
"Oh, and I got a job," I tell Max.
Harlyn pushes himself onto his elbows, whipping my phone around to grin at Max. "At Nando's! Nando's Max!"
"No way!" Max squeaks. "When did you find that out?"
"This morning after class," I answer, drinking in the joy in Harlyn's eyes. "I start next week."
Max hums. "That's...I'm jealous."
"I know, right?" Harlyn exclaims, gesticulating as much as he can with his elbows still on either side of my waist.
Harlyn and Max fangirl for a while longer. And when Max has to get to work, he loudly declares that he loves us both before hanging up. Harlyn settles back down with his head on my chest and nudges my hands back toward his head.
"So needy," I tease.
He grunts. At least he allows me to scroll on my phone at the same time, only demanding one hand instead of two. This is how we've spent most of the last two weeks, curled up in one of our rooms. Always touching. Kissing. Making up for lost time, really. All the time we didn't get to do this.
I find a post on Instagram about how awkward first dates can be and show it to Harlyn.
He breathes a laugh through his nose. "We didn't have a first date. So, we didn't have to deal with that."
"True," I chuckle.
Harlyn props himself on his elbows again. "We never had a first date," he says matter-of-factly.
"I mean, we...did? I guess. We definitely spent time together. And we got lunch after our first kiss," I remind him.
"Yeah, but...not as, like, a couple. I mean, we were. But we didn't hold hands or kiss or anything like that." He rests his chin on my sternum and stares at me. "We haven't had a proper date. This is a travesty."
"It's not that big of a deal." I won't lie and say I don't want to go on a "proper" date, but I also don't want him to feel bad that we weren't publicly affectionate when he wasn't ready yet. "Besides, you were my date to Marley's wedding. That counts, yeah?"
"Well, sure. But even then, I was in the bridal party. We didn't get to sit together at the ceremony. It wasn't a...an official date." He bats his eyelashes at me. "I'm going to take you on a proper date."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He nods, digging his chin into my chest a little. "Dress nice. Knock on the door. Take you out. Bring you home. Kiss you goodnight."
I can't help the smile that takes over my face. "Ok, then. When?"
"Hm." He squints his eyes. "Tomorrow night."
"Tomorrow night it is."
***
Me: What am I supposed to wear on a date?
Max: Uhhhhhhh. With Harlyn?
Me: Who else??
Max: I don't know. I'm confused.
Me: It's our first "proper" date. And I don't know what to wear.
Max: Fin. It's Harlyn. Don't overthink it.
Me: -_-
Max: No. I'm standing by this. It's Harlyn. He won't care what you wear.
Max: You could wear nothing, and he'd just go with it.
Me: 0_0
Max: I take that back. My bad.
Max makes me laugh enough that my nerves mostly fall away. He's right. I shouldn't be nervous. And I wasn't until about twenty minutes ago. This is new and different. We've been together for almost seven months, and we're still doing things that a brand new couple would do. On one hand, I'm grateful that it's kind of been spread out. I didn't have to deal with the same kind of awkwardness six months ago, and I know Harlyn now. I know this date will go well. On the other hand, I feel like I have to make a good impression.
Which is silly, right? It's Harlyn. It might be new. This may be the first time we're going out and holding hands at a restaurant just the two of us. But he's not expecting anything. He's not expecting it to be perfect and exactly right. That's just my stupid anxiety, people pleasing, and perfectionism talking. Harlyn loves me - loves me! - and he just wants to do something "normal." We haven't had a lot of "normal."
I hear a distant knock on the front door and grab my phone before barreling down the stairs. Polly pulls the door open just as I swing into the living room.
She snorts. "Harlyn, we gave you a key to use."
"I know." Harlyn scratches the back of his neck. "But I'm taking Finley on a date. And I promised I'd make it proper, you know. Knock on the door. That sort of thing."
"Oh God, that's romantic," Polly groans, stepping out of the way so he can come in. He spots me and lights up with a smile.
"Hello, love," he greets.
I can't help but smile, too. "Hi."
Polly groans again. "You two are...so cute it hurts. Go before I pass out from the sappiness." She wanders out of the room, and I blush a little.
"You ready?" Harlyn asks, holding out his hand. I nod and take it, following him onto the street. "How does dinner and a movie sound? I know it's kind of...lame -"
"No. It's perfect," I assure. But when we stop in front of the movie theater first, I pause, tugging him to a stop. "I thought you said dinner and a movie?"
He turns to me. "Yeah. I just...I like going to the movie first, because then we can talk about it while we eat."
"I... I never thought about that. Ok. Let's go."
The smile doesn't leaves his face as we get tickets and snacks. He quips that this way we get dessert first, and even though I know I'm going to be a little sick if I eat chocolate on an empty stomach, I get some Cadbury buttons anyway. I can save some for later. He doesn't let go of my hand, either, digging through his wallet one handed to pay and sticking his candy bar in his jacket pocket to show our tickets to the employee at the doors. The only time he lets it go is to take off his coat when we choose seats and stuff it under his chair.
For the entire movie, he keeps his hand in mine, running his fingers over my knuckles. It's almost distracting enough to keep my attention away from the movie. But the movie is good, too. And if we're going to talk about it when we have dinner, I should probably have something to say. So, I pay attention.
We're quiet as we walk out of the movie and wander down high street toward...wherever he's taking me for food. My mind wanders to my first date with Jared. Jared was my first...well, kind of everything? First kiss. First date that wasn't Holly taking me to Homecoming as a friend. First time holding hands with a boy. First time being out and about with a boy. First time...going a bit further than kissing.
It was so much different than Harlyn. We were both out when we met. We met in a psychology class my second semester, and he was nice when I asked about the bi pride flag pin he had on his backpack. I'd been in therapy for a few months at that point, and I know it was only because of Eliza's patience and encouragement that I even talked to him in the first place. We worked together on a few group things, and a couple weeks into the semester, he asked me out.
I was open with him the whole time that it was all new for me. He was open with me, too. It was his last semester at ICC and was transferring to a school out in California, so we knew it wouldn't be a long-term relationship. It ended up really not being a long-term relationship. We only went out for a month and a half when he dumped me and started going out with someone else.
It was definitely a learning experience, and honestly, I wasn't terribly hurt that we didn't last for too long. But he's literally my only experience to compare against. Not that I should be comparing Harlyn to anyone. But I can't help it. I haven't really compared up until now, because everything has been so different. But being out and about, hands swinging between us as we turn down a side street, people smiling at us as we pass...it's hard not to.
I'd only known Jared for a few weeks when we went on our first date. I was an anxious mess. My therapy session right before was completely consumed by all the what ifs I had running through my head. And Eliza had listened to every one, patiently reminding me that I had a choice to not go, to leave at any time, to refuse anything he asked. And even then, my hand shook so bad when he took it, he asked if I was cold. I didn't know what to expect. Even when we got closer, went out more, went...further, I wasn't always sure what he was thinking or wanting.
Harlyn is so different. Our start was nerve-wracking as well - kissing each other when we hadn't told each other how we felt yet can do that. But almost immediately Harlyn was open with me. He told me exactly how he felt, how much he could give me. He wanted to understand my anxiety before we were even together. And besides our little communication snafu at the end of the semester, he's been so understanding and loving and supportive of everything.
And tonight...even though I'm rather nervous, I know what to expect. He's going to take me to dinner. If he notices me getting overwhelmed by the menu or worrying that it's too much, he'll offer to help. He's going to ask how I liked the movie and want to hear all of my opinions about it. And at the end of the night, he's going to hold my hand all the way home, kiss me goodnight, maybe even tell me he loves me. He knows I like plans. He knows I like to know what's going on. And he doesn't see it as boring or predictable.
In fact, as we sit down at Wagamama and everything goes exactly how I expected it would, he's still smiling. He never looks annoyed or impatient. He just looks excited. And when he slurps a noodle too quickly and slaps his nose, he twitches his face in such an adorably hilarious way, I cackle. And I realize I haven't laughed like this in so long. He wipes at his face and stares at me.
"What?" I gasp.
He shakes his head. "It's just...I like hearing you laugh. Makes me happy."
"Hm. Good. Because it's at your expense."
"I don't care," he swears. "I remember the first time I saw you laugh. Like, actually laugh. We were in Brighton, we'd just gotten to the beach, and Max and Elly took off, splashing each other with the cold water. And you looked...so happy."
I duck my head. "That was a good day. It had only been a couple weeks, and I was - I was comfortable with you and Elly already. We had so much fun together that day. So much fun exploring places and seeing new things and... God, everything was so much better than my anxiety had let me believe. Who would have thought we'd be here?" I slide my hand across to the table to cover his. "After everything, we're...here. Almost eight months later. On a proper date."
The waiter stops at our table to ask if we want any refills, and Harlyn pulls his hand away. Right. This is new for him, too. I'm an idiot. I've spent this whole time thinking about how nervous I am, not even considering how he's feeling being out and about with me for the first time. When the waiter hurries away, I catch his eye.
"You alright, sweetheart?"
He looks up at me and plasters a smile on. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Harlyn, it's ok to be nervous. This is all new to you, too."
"But...I love you. I... it's been months. I'm fine."
"Harlyn," I chuckle. "I'm not doubting how you feel about me or how much you're ok with your sexuality. This is new. And it's ok to be...self conscious or nervous or uncomfortable. You don't have to worry about my comfort all the time."
He licks his lips. "But...that's my job. I worry about your comfort."
"Then let me worry about yours," I insist. "That's my job."
"Alright."
"Alright. Tell me how you're feeling." I keep eating but make sure I don't take my eyes off of him for more than a few seconds.
He blows a breath out. "Erm, good. Really. It's strange. But...not really? It's not like I've never been on a date before. I guess I'm just...worried someone will say something. I don't know. It's silly."
"It's not silly. Some people are jerks. Someone might say something. But hey." He looks up at me. "You're not alone, sweetheart. If you don't want to hold hands, we don't have to. That doesn't mean you don't have me, ok?"
The tension leaks out of his shoulders. "I just want this to be...perfect."
A bark of laughter escapes before I can stop it, and I clap my hand over my mouth. "Sorry. You sound like me. You've been spending too much time with me."
"Never enough time with you, love," he whispers, blushing to the tips of his ears.
"Well, that was...God, you're so adorable. How are you so adorable?" I run a hand through my hair. "You don't need to be perfect. You're...so amazing. Tonight has been so amazing. It doesn't need to be perfect."
He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Ok."
He doesn't take my hand again until we're out of the restaurant and on the dark cobblestone street. Instead of heading back toward my flat, he yanks me in the opposite direction, and we stumble out into the little square outside the gates of the cathedral. It's lit in a soft light, and there are people spilling out of the gates, probably after an evening service. Harlyn stops beside the war memorial in the center and pulls me to his chest. And then he kisses me deeply and passionately, holding me at my waist and the nape of my neck.
When he pulls back, he's shaking just slightly. "I love you."
"I love you, too." I glance at the few people still wandering through the square. They're not even looking at us. "Are you ok?"
He nods. "Yeah. I've wanted to kiss you here for forever."
"Here? Really? Why?"
"Well, I don't know. I feel like the cathedral is something we...well, we've never actually gone to the cathedral together - alone anyway. One day, I'd love to kiss you in the cathedral, but this will have to do for now. And anyway, the Chocolate Cafe is just down that street. Where we went the day after Club Chemistry -"
"And my breakdown in the bathroom stall."
"Precisely. I'd known that I liked you for...well, for a while. But I'd just kind of admitted it to myself a few days before. And that was the first time I thought about kissing you."
I blink at him, hands still resting on his chest as he cards his hand through the hair at the back of my head. "Really?"
"Yeah. I had no idea how I was ever going to tell you, how I was ever going to tell anyone. And here we are. And I'm lucky that you are so patient and sweet. And that we've made it here." He gasps out a laugh. "That sounds so dramatic. It's not like...we've faced death or anything. But...we've made it so far."
I peck him on the lips. "We have. And we're going to keep going."
With a nod, he presses a kiss to my knuckles. And then he sweeps me out of the square with his arm still around my waist, and we walk back to my flat in near total silence. He kisses me on the doorstep, tells me he loves me, and then walks away with a bounce in his step. I watch him until he's around the corner, and he looks back at me no less than five times.
The flat is dark when I enter, but I find Elly's door cracked open on the landing.
"Finley? That you?" she whisper-yells. I poke my head in, and I must have the dopiest grin on my face, because she breaks into a smile. "Aw, good night, then?"
"Such a good night, El."
"Tell us all about it in the morning?"
I nod. "Only if you make me breakfast."
"Deal."