Finley
"Fin! It's been...way too long!" Max exclaims as soon as the video call connects. He has new glasses, and he's cut his hair since we last called. I think I might cry.
"I know." For a moment, I just stare at him. And he just stares at me. When I finally swallow down the lump in my throat, I say, "I miss you."
He smiles at me. "I miss you, too." And then his eyebrows draw together in the middle. "Are you ok? You look like you haven't slept in days."
God, why does he know me so well?
"Uh, yeah. Everything's fine. Just a lot going on, I guess."
I try to distract him with questions about Dana and work and his roommates and his parents. And it works for a while. He'll talk about Dana all day if I let him. But then he stops between anecdotes and squints at me.
"What?"
"You're being very quiet." He looks at me over his glasses. "What's on your mind?"
"It's everything I've already texted you about."
"Yes, but that was texting. Now we're talking."
I roll my eyes but start talking. It's Max, after all. Max knows all my oddities and has dealt with my anxiety for longer than most people. So, I let it all out. I rehash the whole thing at Harlyn's work and everything that happened the week after. I told him about it after it happened, but he's right. It's different saying it out loud. And then I move on to Fran moving out and the possibility of Harlyn moving in. Or at the very least, a new roommate.
"You don't happen to want to move to England, too, do you? There's a room available."
Max grins. "I'll think about it and get back to you. I think Harlyn should go for it, though. You two living together but not like...living together would be kind of a good trial run, you know? For both of you."
I had the same thought, actually. The thought of fully moving in with Harlyn - sharing a little studio somewhere with one bed - while conceptually amazing, brings a whole lot of terror with it. We're definitely not ready for that yet. But sharing a house? Having our own rooms that we can go to if we need space? Still close? That sounds...kind of nice.
I'm not sure I can tell Harlyn that or have that conversation. Tiptoeing through that decision without saying the wrong thing would be my worst nightmare.
"Yeah, it would."
"You guys have talked about it, right?"
"Yeah, we talked about it a few days ago. I told him it was up to him."
I know, logically, that we should talk more about it - boundaries and expectations. But as soon as he asked my opinion the other day, the thought of voicing my opinion felt like the most terrifying idea in the world. What if he didn't agree? What if the boundaries I proposed were too much for him? What if he doesn't really want to move in with me, but he's being polite? And if I said I wanted him to move here, would it freak him out and push him away?
"That's it? That's all you told him? All you talked about?"
"Yes."
"Fin, that's -"
He's interrupted by a knock on my door.
"Come in!"
Harlyn is shoved unceremoniously through the door by Elly. "El, chill."
"You weren't moving fast enough," Elly informs him, skirting around him. "Finley, your boyfriend's here, and it's time for movie night."
Max's eyes light up on my phone screen. "Elly!"
"Max!" My phone is ripped from my hand. "Oh my God, I haven't seen your cute face in forever! I'm stealing you. You two," she points at Harlyn and me, "be downstairs in ten minutes, or we're starting without you."
"Fin! Before you hang up, we need to talk about Christmas!" Max calls as Elly sweeps out the door.
"Ok!"
Harlyn, who's still standing just inside my door, looks between the hallway and me. "Christmas?"
My stomach drops. It should not drop. This isn't a big deal. It was always implied that I'd be going home for Christmas. Will he be ok with that? This is exhausting. I should not be worrying about every little thing I do or say or imply. Harlyn is not my parents. He loves me. He's not going to take something I say the wrong way or think I'm doing anything to upset him on purpose.
And yet, here we are.
"Yeah. Christmas. I'm going home for the two week break at the end of term. Is that...I guess we haven't really talked about that, have we?" I don't have my phone to fidget with, so I pull at the hem of my sleeve and twist it around my index finger.
"No, but I assumed you'd be going home." He shrugs and sits on the end of my bed, not quite meeting my eyes. I hate that he's been so cautious around me. It's my fault, of course. But God, do I hate it. "I'll miss you, but we've done longer."
"We have."
"What was Max talking about, though? Something specific?"
Oh. That makes sense. He wasn't asking about Christmas. Not in the way I immediately jumped to. He was asking about why Max wanted to talk to me about Christmas. This really is exhausting.
"Oh, I think he just wants to make plans now to make sure we get enough time together." I nudge my toes under his thigh, hoping to convey that it's ok for him to touch me. I can tell he's been following my lead in that specifically the last week. Which makes trying to follow his lead on everything and be the perfect boyfriend really hard. The cognitive dissonance in my brain is really disorienting. "Especially with my parents. If I have plans already made with Max and can say something like 'Max and I have had this planned for weeks' -"
"They'll be more understanding. Got it."
"You already know them so well," I tease.
He huffs and rests a hand on my shin. "Too well, love."
I sit up and slide toward him until I can rest my chin on his shoulder. He looks a little shocked, and it breaks my heart clean in half. "I love you."
"I love you, too," he whispers, leaning in to kiss my forehead lightly. "Shall we join the party? See if Elly and Max have conspired about anything."
We make our way downstairs, hand in hand, and find Elly curled up on the couch chatting away with Max. Polly is laying on her shoulder, half in and half out of the conversation. And Fran is sitting against the couch in between Nate's legs. It's a full house, but for the first time in almost two weeks, I'm comfortable. I'm excited to sit cuddled up next to Harlyn on the floor and watch a random movie while we pass popcorn and snacks around.
"Ah, Finley's here. It was nice to talk to you, Max," Elly says, smiling softly. "Miss you."
"I miss you, too, El." Max's voice glitches a little. "I'll call more. I promise."
"I'll hold you to that, babes." She says her goodbyes and hands me my phone back. "Will you grab the bowl of popcorn from the kitchen?"
I nod and wander through the dining room with Max in tow. "So, Christmas?"
"Yes. Christmas." He raises an eyebrow. "We can talk about Christmas another day. I really just wanted to make sure I got back to you before I got hung up on."
"Oh?" I slide into the kitchen and grab the bowl of popcorn from the counter.
"Fin. You need to talk to Harlyn."
I stop in the middle of the dining room and lick my lips. "Max..."
"Nope. You know I'm right, Fin." He looks at me over his glasses again. "After everything that's happened with the two of you the last couple of weeks, I'm sure he's really nervous about this. He probably doesn't want to push you. Sure, it's his choice ultimately. But this needs to be between both of you."
"But it's-it's complicated, Max."
"How?"
I scramble to try and come up with a way to describe all of the complicatedness going on in my head. But that's too much, isn't it? I shouldn't be worrying Max with all of that. It's ridiculous anyway.
"It's not complicated," Max says when I don't answer. "I'm not saying it's easy. Communication isn't. But it's simple."
"Yeah. I know."
"Good. And I really will try to call more. I'm sorry it's been so long." He pushes his glasses up his nose.
"It's ok. I can be better, too." Elly yells from the living room that they're going to start without me. "I should go."
We say our goodbyes, and I plop the bowl of popcorn in Elly's lap when I get back to the living room. Harlyn, apparently buoyed by my physical affection earlier, pulls me into his lap. And I have a flashback to the day I moved into the flat when Elly dragged me downstairs and helped me feel more at home. It was the first time I really truly felt like this was a place I could feel at home.
And I feel that again now, laying my head back against Harlyn's shoulder and reaching to snatch the chocolate buttons from Polly's lap. She sticks her tongue out at me. I stick mine out at her. And I start to think that maybe I'm ok. Everything will be ok. I can talk to Harlyn. I can relax.
I can accept the love that's pressing in from all sides. Even if it's terrifying.