Harlyn
Nando's is busy, but Finley isn't. He's standing against the front counter facing away from the door, and as soon as he hears the bell, he spins around with the brightest, fakest smile I've ever seen on his face. It turns more genuine when he sees it's me.
"Harlyn! Hi!" he chirps.
"Hi, love." I lean against the counter. It's just tall enough that I can't lean over it and kiss him, which is probably a good thing. Not very professional. "You look rather bored."
"Yes. Well, I'm only trained on the register so far, so...if there's no one at the register, I don't really have anything to do." He shrugs just as a tall blonde woman swoops in behind him.
"Is this..." She gestures vaguely at me. "Him?"
Finley blushes. "Yeah. Mindy, this is Harlyn. My boyfriend. Harlyn. Mindy."
Mindy reaches over the counter to shake my hand. "Lovely to meet you."
"And you. I hope Finley's stories about me haven't been too crazy." I pump my eyebrows at Finley, and he blushes deeper.
"Not at all. I mean...your story's a bit crazy, but that has nothing to do with you." Mindy flashes me a smile. "I told my partner about you two, and they thought it was crazy, too. They want to meet you." Someone shouts from deeper behind the counter, and Mindy turns over her shoulder. "Coming! I should get back. I'm glad I got to put a face to the name. Now I can picture who Finley blushes about." She hurries away with one last smile.
"I like her," I tell Finley, who's still blushing.
He nods. "Yeah. She's cool. Everyone here is. Anyway, are you going to eat? Or are you just here to see me?"
"Both. I'm starving." I duck my head to catch his eye. "Did I embarrass you? I'm sorry."
His head whips up. "No. Of course. No. I'm just...happy. And... getting used to this. Being out and... having friends who are like me. Like us. Talking about my boyfriend at work and... I don't know."
The door opens behind me, a cool breeze brushing over my ankles over my socks. "Well, I'm glad, love. I'll order, so I can get out of your way."
I eat my food at the table Elly and I always take by the windows. It has a good line of sight to the front counter, where I can watch Finley. He said he wasn't sure about "being in his element," and he's only been working here for just over a week. But his years of customer service has definitely given him an advantage. He whips out the bright, false smile for everyone who walks through the door. It turns more genuine for some people, and it stays more forced for others. It's slightly unnerving, honestly, that he's able to mask his emotions so well. Thankfully, he's never used that skill on me.
Or has he?
He has. Less so than when we first met or when we were first dating. But just the other night, he said I could come over, even though he needed space. I was proud of him for telling me he really did need space. But I wonder how much he overthought after I left, how many other times he's let me come over and answered my call or...anything even though he wasn't in the mood.
I'm usually pretty good at reading him. I think. I hope. This has given me new insight. Maybe I can read him better now.
He's also definitely in his element with his coworkers. He's still holding back a little, not as at ease as he is with Max or Elly. But his smile with them is genuine, and they make him laugh. That's good. He needs more people in his life who he actually enjoys hanging out with. And he was so nervous about starting the new job and having to get to know so many new people. He tried to explain how it was different from going to classes, and I think I understand. But I still marvel at how he lives in this world with the way his brain works
I do understand the new job anxiety, though. Work has been...different than I thought it would be. I definitely don't miss working at McDonald's. And it's not like I was best friends with any of my coworkers. But it's so strange going from a fast paced restaurant job, constantly surrounded by customers and fellow employees, to a job where Hannah, Brandon, Marty, and occasionally other professors and historians are the only people I see on a daily basis. There's not a lot of talking other than communicating on where things are going or coming from. Hannah and Brandon are dating, so they keep to themselves. Marty is a bit of an odd duck, and he lives in his head most of the time.
It's a good thing I've been working on being comfortable in my own head. I've had a lot of time to think. Maybe too much time.
Speaking of too much time to think, once I've clearly overstayed my welcome, I wave at Finley over the heads of the people he's helping and head to the door. He waves back distractedly. Once I'm out on the street, I send him a quick text.
Me: You're very impressive. Definitely in your element, love. See you tomorrow?
And then I head home. Mum and Dad are in the kitchen, having their nightly chat and cuppa at the table. They both smile when I slide into the chair across from them with my own cup of tea. I came out to them on a night like this five months ago. And ever since, when I have the chance, I come and sit with them. Sometimes we talk. Sometimes we don't. Dad has his paper. Mum has her book for book club or sudoku. I have my phone or my thoughts.
Tonight, Mum is chatty. She tells me all about book club, and prompts Dad to tell me about the funny thing that happened in his lecture this morning.
"Oh, Harlyn. Marley and Mel are coming for dinner on Sunday," she reminds me.
I fiddle with the string of my tea bag. "Right. It's the third Sunday."
"I was thinking about inviting Finley this time."
"You want to invite Finley to family dinner?" I ask, looking up to catch her eye.
She shrugs. "Of course. He's family."
"I'm sure he'd love to come. I'll let you invite him." I give her a sly smile. "I know you have his number already." There's been at least twice that I know of when Finley and Mum have communicated, specifically about me.
"I do indeed." She nods, biting back a smile. "I'll text him right now."
We fall silent again as she taps away on her phone and Dad continues silently reading the paper. I keep fiddling with my tea bag and sipping slowly. When Mum puts her phone down, she doesn't pick her book back up. She sets her elbows on the table and props her chin on her hands. And she stares at me. One of her searching, Mum stares. It's unnerving.
"What?" I finally ask.
"You just look so pensive tonight, darling. Is everything alright?"
I shrug. "Oh, er, I think so. Just a lot going on, you know. New job. Last year of Uni. All of that."
"How is your new job going?" Dad asks, dropping his newspaper to his 'I'm listening' position. "I've meant to ask."
"It's good. Fascinating. We've found some very cool stuff. And the Earl was a very interesting man. He owns...a lot of weird stuff. I mean, all of the Earls did. So, the collection is extensive." I take the last sip of my tea. "I like it a lot."
Dad nods. "And your coworkers? They're good? Nice?"
"They're...nice. I don't talk to them a whole lot. There's not usually a lot of down time to chat, you know? And we're not always there at the same time either with classes and stuff."
Mum squints at me. "Is it hard for you not having people around at work?"
I hate that Mum knows me so well.
"A little. But I'm getting used to it. And I enjoy the work more than I did at McDonald's. So, it makes up for it."
Even if seventy five percent of my time at work is spent wishing I had someone to talk to...
Dad heads to bed early as usual. Mum gets up to finish her load of laundry. I wash up our mugs and head up to my room to get ready for bed, too. Finley texts me when he gets home from work, and I can almost hear his blush.
Finley: I'm glad one of us thinks I'm impressive.
Finley: Felt like a train wreck the whole night.
Finley: So different from lunch shift.
Me: Could've fooled me. You were a hot mess.
Me: Emphasis on hot.
Finley: Stooooooop
Me: Never.
Finley: Moving on. Got an invitation to an Evans family dinner.
Finley: I'm honored.
Finley: And nervous. But I shouldn't be, right?
Finley: I love your family.
Me: And my family loves you. Hence the dinner invite. It'll be fun. I promise.
***
Despite my assurances to Finley that dinner is no big deal, Sunday afternoon comes with a lot of overthinking. It is a big deal.
It's not.
But it is.
It shouldn't be. It's just...family dinner.
When I answer the door for Finley, it's obvious he can tell immediately that I'm stressed. He steps into the house and takes my face in his hands before he even takes his shoes off.
"What's the matter, sweetheart?" he whispers. He looks so concerned I can't help but smile. Of course, his anxiety is jumping to the worst possibilities.
"Nothing, love," I murmur back, ducking for a quick kiss. "Just...overthinking this whole...you here for family dinner thing."
He nods, his hands sliding down to my shoulders. "Could it be because the last time I was here for a family dinner my family was also here and it was quite stressful?"
I let out a breath. Of course. "Yeah. You're right. That's probably it."
"This is going to be better. Different. Marley can be...his full goofy self and no one will care or comment or roll their eyes behind his back." He squeezes my shoulders. "I'm nervous, too. But mostly because it's new. I haven't spent a lot of time with your dad and Marley and Mel, but -"
"Finley!" Marley pops his head in from the living room. "You two lovebirds talking about us?"
"Maybe," Finley says, blushing but keeping a smirk on his face.
Marley fully joins us in the entryway and ruffles Finley's hair. "Don't worry about it, mate. We don't bite."
I snort. "Mel doesn't. You might."
"Not hard," Marley says, rolling his eyes. "Come on, Fin. Join us." He ruffles Finley's hair again and swings back into the living room. Finley touches his head lightly.
"You alright, love?"
"Yeah." He nods, slipping off his shoes and taking my hand. "Let's join the party?"
Dinner is smooth, enjoyable. Amazing, actually. It doesn't take long for Finley to relax. It's not the first time he's hung out at our house, just the first time like this. We sit on the floor in the living room against the TV stand while we wait for the roast to be done. And then we squeeze around the table in the kitchen. It's only meant for four, but we've managed seven before. Six is almost comfortable. It helps that Marley doesn't like to be more than two inches away from Mel at any time. They've been married for a month tomorrow, and they're acting like they just started dating. I can't complain. It means that my hand on Finley's thigh doesn't get a second glance.
Dad asks the most questions, announcing that he hasn't put enough effort into getting to know Finley. Finley brushes it away much like I did when his dad made a comment about not knowing me much.
"Oh, it's ok. Long-distance is hard for getting to know family normally."
Dad smiles. "Well, and I work a lot. But that's no excuse. So, tell us about school. Studying writing, yes?" Finley nods. "And were you able to get into your second year? I remember Harlyn saying something about that."
"I did. So, I have this year and next year before getting my degree. Which is perfect. That's exactly what I would have had at home."
Dad asks question after question about how he got into writing, what he loves so much about it, what he wants to do for work. Finley's shoulders tense at some of the questions, and I know that it's because he's been asked these questions before by people who were much less kind about his answers. But Dad is enthralled. Mum is, too. And Marley and Mel chime in here and there, steering the conversation from topic to topic, prompting Finley to open up more and more.
It's a sight to behold. He lights up when Dad compliments him, laughs out loud at Marley's stupid jokes, banters with Mel about some show they both watch, and melts when Mum calls him darling. He doesn't open up like this often. It's only with a chosen few that he lets his real self shine through, lets his walls down. I'm honored and so happy that he trusts my family, lets my family see him.
It's not everything. He still hesitates sometimes, his leg jiggles under the table until I set my hand on it again, and I can see his social battery slowly diminish over the course of the meal. But even as he tires, he keeps a little contented smile on his face.
After dessert is finished, Marley announces they need to get going, make sure they get home at a decent time. All the goodbyes are said. Finley gets a long hug from Mel and another hair ruffle from Marley. And then I drag him upstairs to my room.
We haven't spent as much time here this term. It usually makes more sense to meet up at his flat. But it's nice to have him back in my room, nice to see him look over the papers scattered over my desk and smile at the pictures of us I taped to the wall above it as if he hasn't seen them before. He has. But it's like it surprises him every time.
Something about having him in my room, in one of the most personal places that I have, is comforting. Like I can't hide anything from him. I don't want to.
"Tonight was nice," I say, finally breaking the silence and pulling Finley from whatever thoughts he's having.
He turns to look at me, that little smile still in place. "Yeah, it was. I love your family." He wanders over to me and slides his arms around my waist. "I feel...safe with them. Loved. Like I can be myself. Lot different from my house." He draws his eyebrows together. "I mean, I know my parents love me. Bridget loves me. And it used to be like this. At least I think so. When I was little, we'd have family dinners that weren't so tense and strained. Think I had a lot to do with it changing."
"Hey. Stop that. You always do that." I bring my hands to his face so he can't look away.
"Do what?"
"Defend them. And blame it on yourself. I'm sure they love you...in their own way. You don't have to say it every time you say something remotely negative about them."
Finley shrinks a bit, eyes skittering to my chin. "Sorry."
"No. Hey. I just mean...you can be honest with me." I duck to try and catch his eyes. "They've done things that hurt you. And it's ok to talk about that without-without defending them or blaming yourself."
Finley nods shallowly. "Yeah."
I pull him to my chest and press my hand to the back of his head. "Sorry. I shouldn't have brought this up now. I know you're tired and drained."
"It's ok. You're right. It's like a-a reflex. Something I worked on with Eliza. But it's been a while. Falling into old habits, I guess."
I don't say anything. I just hold him until he relaxes into me slowly.
"I love Marley," he sighs after a while.
"He's taken," I quip. "And so are you."
He scoffs. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. I just...I've always wanted older siblings. I feel like I have two now."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He pauses, shifting to press his forehead into my neck. "Marley...ruffles my hair. That... I don't know. That makes me happy."
"Hm. He doesn't do that to me." As soon as it comes out of my mouth, I realize I'm wrong. "Well, he used to. Doesn't anymore."
"Did he stop when you got as tall as him?"
I chuckle. "Probably. I'm glad it makes you happy. I'm sure he likes having another little brother to tease. And I mean he just likes teasing me in general. Especially about my...relationships."
"Yeah, and especially about the future. Our future."
Something pops into my head that I had almost completely forgotten until this moment. "Speaking of the future, do I get to see your wedding Pinterest board? Or is that a roommate thing?"
Finley tenses again and pulls away to look up at me, eyes wide. "Oh. Right. It's not a...a hint or anything. Or an expectation. I promise. Elly just asked if I'd ever thought about my wedding - not ours just mine - Well, she did ask if I'd ever thought about our wedding but...anyway, apparently it's a thing girls do - planning their weddings. Dreaming about them. I don't know. Holly mentioned it once. When I told Elly I'd never really thought about it, she made sure to fix that. Had a whole night looking at colors and cakes and suits and..." He blinks furiously. "I don't even remember what else. I mean, if we ever got married of course we'd plan it together. But it was fun to think about. Especially with them."
"If we got married?" I'm somewhere between curious and terrified, and I hope the question comes out more teasing than scared.
"No, I mean - that's a conversation to have later. Way later. We've only been dating a few months -"
"Seven."
"Seven months. And that doesn't mean we have to talk about marriage or anything. We're far from that I think. Maybe someday but not now. Four of those months were long distance and the first couple were like...I don't know. They count but like... I don't know what I'm saying. But it's really only three months physically together. And -"
"Alright, love. Slow down. I didn't mean to freak you out. I was just...curious I guess. This isn't a marriage proposal." I rub my hands up and down his arms and guide him back toward my bed.
He nods shallowly again. "Right. Sorry."
"I was just curious. I know thinking about the future spikes your anxiety. It-It was the wrong time to bring it up. I'm sorry."
"No, it's ok." He takes a few deep breaths and looks up at me. "I-I want a future with you. You know that, right?"
My face melts into a smile all by itself. "I do. It's nice to hear, but I do."
"It's just hard for me to talk about it."
"I know, love. It's fine. I promise." I squeeze his hand.
After a few more minutes of semi-comfortable silence, he looks at me again. "Do you - Do you really want to see it? The Pinterest board?"
"Do you want to show it to me?"
He shrugs. "Just for fun?"
I nod and pull him back farther onto the bed, tucking him between my legs, against my chest, and under my chin. He pulls up his Pinterest, and we spend the next hour scrolling through his pictures. They're slightly all over the place, which makes sense since he'd never thought about anything before.
The one thing he seems pretty settled on is the tux - black trousers and a white jacket with black lapels. The thing is, I can see it. Marriage is way far away for us if it's even something we want.
But this? Wrapped around Finley after a nice family dinner? That feels like a future I can get behind, whatever happens.