Page 64 of Meet Cute

Two words leave my lips before I stare out the window with a blank face. “I know.”

FORTY-NINE

Birds chirping is the first thing I hear when my heavy eyes open. I’m greeted by the warmth of a beautiful sunny day, which is a stark contrast to the state of Finn’s room. It hasn’t changed much since I got here, aside from when one of the ceiling polaroids fell down like the creepiest snowflake.

With a groan that turns into a yawn, I sit up and catch a glimpse of my outfit. I’m not in the outerwear I had on before, instead Finn dressed me up in plush pajama pants with frogs on them and a white t-shirt with Batman on it.

My attention shifts to the doorway, where Finn is standing. He’s leaning against the wooden frame, arms crossed with a warm look on his face. “Sleep well?” His shirt is gone, and I can’t help but notice that he’s trying to show off a little.

Obviously building muscle takes time, but all the woodcutting and outside patio construction has definitely done him good. He’s still his cute husky self, but to deny the fact his arms and chest seem a little more toned would be ridiculous.

“Were you watching me sleep?”

“You looked really cute,” he chuckles while plopping down in front of me to lean in and kiss my forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“You’re blushing.”

With my hand splayed out I push his face back, glancing off to the side with embarrassment. “You’re being annoying.”

“I get to wake up every morning and see my lovely bunny sleeping next to me.” He kisses me again, but this time he gently grabs the back of my head to not-so-gently ram his tongue down my throat. “I’m the luckiest man on the whole planet.”

The way he talks about me makes me sound so special despite the fact I’m really not. I’m not the cutest, I’m not the nicest, and I’m sure as hell not the smartest. “Shut up,” I mumble playfully, letting my hand rest on the black and gray flannel of his pajamas. “What’s for breakfast?”

“I’m annoying, but you want me to cook for you?” Finn growls with desire in his voice, crawling on top of me to trap me beneath his body. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

I wanted to talk to you, sweetheart.

All the flirtatious energy I had dies off in the blink of an eye as my mom’s voice rings through my brain like a fire alarm. “Don’t… P-Please don’t call me that.”

Whatever suave persona Finn was trying on disappears as well, since he immediately whimpers like a battered puppy. “W-Why? What did I do wrong? I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s…” How could I possibly explain this to him? “My mom… she… she wanted to send me off to, uh, conversion therapy—or whatever. I don’t know.”

His mouth drops but nothing comes out. Finn sniffles, and then he’s hugging me tight before I can even process it. “That’s horrible. T-That’s so horrible. Why would they do that to you?”

Rubbing his back does actually help soothe the anxiety I’m feeling. “I-I don’t know. I… I don’t really understand it. I guess they thought it would fix things?”

“I would’ve killed them. I-I would’ve…” Finn winces at his own poor choice of words. “No, not that. Just… I don’t like it. Don’t like the idea of it… of losing you.”

“It’s fine,” I shrug it all off. “Can we have breakfast now?”

Finn grunts out a noise of affirmation but the hug doesn’t become any lighter. Only after a minute passes does he finally let go and pick me up. My head falls to its usual spot against his chest, the thump-thump of his heartbeat giving me something to focus on.

My spot at the counter isn’t as comfortable as it usually is. The idle hum of the fridge is too loud, and when the stove clicks on my stomach flips like I might finally lose it. Rapping my fingers against the island does little to help. Oh god. I really can’t stop thinking about this.

“I got you something,” Finn says while plating my scrambled eggs. “I was… I was gonna give it to you for Christmas, but…”

“What is it?”

After kissing my forehead he disappears around the corner. The sound of spinning wheels follows, and to my utter shock he rolls a wheelchair into the kitchen. “So that you have a little more freedom. I like… I like carrying you, but… um… I thought maybe you’d probably want to do stuff on your own, too!”

His hazel eyes are fixated on the ground, which means he’s missing the way every feature I have is lighting up for him. Not only is it a sweet gift, but it’s really adorable how bashful he’s being about it all.

“This is… this is sweet, Finn,” I say while beckoning him to my side. He trots over like the most well behaved golden retriever, hugging me with so much warmth I could melt. “Thank you…”

The thought of never walking again makes my heart pang with disappointment. It’s something so simple that I took for granted all my life. But he’s sorry. He’s genuinely so sorry. It’s more than evident every time our eyes meet.