“I’ll bet. But I hate to tell you what it’s like when that sucker starts to itch. It’s the worst.”
I start to ask what bones he’s broken, but I don’t get very far, because a hot pair of shorts wearing some wannabe blonde has picked that exact moment to call out Finn’s name. As she gets closer, I realize it’s the same girl that was sitting with him at the pool the day I interviewed at the Echelon.
I’m surprised when he doesn’t bother to look in her direction. Instead, his eyes are focused on me, like he’s waiting for me to finish what I was saying. I’m torn between continuing and acknowledging our new friend. But then I’m distracted by her sugary voice as she once again calls out his name. She calls him “Finny” instead of Finn, like she’s trying to be cute.
“Hey, Gianna,” Finn finally says.
Gianna has an accent I can’t place. Italian or maybe Spanish. She’s also a few years older than me, easily in her early twenties. I’m not sure how the two of them know each other, but there’s no getting around the fact that they do. Or the fact she’d like to know him a lot better than she does.
Aside from her nonexistent shorts, she wears these outrageously tall espadrille sandals that would make most girls stumble just looking at them, but she walks—scratch that—sways our way in them with ease, like she was born with them strapped to her feet. She flings one arm around Finn’s shoulders and plants a loud kiss on each of his cheeks. With those shoes, she’s almost as tall as he is. Which means I find myself eye level with the biggest and most fake pair of boobs I’ve ever seen.
And that’s awesome.
I look down at my own barely B cup and sigh—and by “barely,” I mean only on a good day, when I’m wearing my super bra. Which is so not what I’m wearing under Finn’s hoodie right now. I glance back at Finn and notice his eyes are still on mine, and I hope he didn’t just see me size myself up against Miss Espadrilles. But I have a feeling he did by the way the corner of his mouth tweaks ever so slightly upward. Guess I’ll add that to my growing list of fine moments with Finn.
“Where have you been?” she purrs in his ear. Even I know it’s only been a couple of days since they last saw each other at the pool, but by the way she’s acting, you’d think it’s been years. She doesn’t even notice me standing there. Must be the spectacular wardrobe I’ve got on. I mean, come on, the hoodie screams hottie.
Finn soaks up her smile with one of his own, without missing a beat. “Gianna, this is Sloane; Sloane, this is Gianna.” Her eyes never leave his face.
I clear my throat, and she finally looks at me as if I’m some pesky mosquito that’s buzzing around her. “Oh. Hello there. You are so piccola, or how you say…little.” She motions with her hands as if I don’t get what she’s saying.
And I scoff. Out loud. Did she just call me little?
She stares at me as if she’s waiting for me to respond, but then whispers something into Finn’s ear with a giggle. He rolls his eyes at me, but for some reason, that isn’t enough. Maybe in the past it would’ve been. But not anymore.
“Yeah, I think I’ll leave the two of you alone. Thanks for the ride, Finn. See you around.” I don’t wait for him to say anything before I turn and walk away. The mall is only a few blocks from the hotel, so it’s not like I have far to go. Besides, after that episode, I could use the walk.
I pick up my pace and make my way outside, but someone grabs my wrist and spins me around.
“Hey, please don’t walk away. I’m really sorry about that back there, about Gianna. I don’t think she realizes how blunt she is.” Finn seems slightly out of breath, like he was running to catch up. And then he actually leans over and grabs both of his knees. “Damn, you can haul ass for being so small. Who knew?”
I have to bite my lower lip to contain my smile. And that irks me because I want to be mad. “It’s no big deal, Finn, I can make it back on my own.”
“I have absolutely no doubt you can. Hell, with those legs, you’d probably make it back before I did.” He stands upright and motions toward the parking garage in the opposite direction. “Look, I’m sorry about Gianna. She’s here on business from Italy for the year and staying at the Echelon. And honestly, I think I might be her only friend here.” The way he says “friend” makes me want to laugh in a non-ha-ha kind of way, because it’s evident in every way she wants to be more than just that. “Hey, let me make it up to you. Let me take you to dinner.”
“Right now?” I look down at what I’m wearing and think maybe he might be joking.
“Yeah, right now. Unless you’ve got other plans?”
Wow. He actually wants to take all this out to dinner instead of Gianna? Huh, how can I possibly say no to that? “Dinner…now…sure.”
“So is that a yes?”
“Yes. Dinner sounds great.”
We ride to the north side of the island. It’s almost a different climate over here, breezy even. Which makes me glad I’m wearing his hoodie. And while not my most attractive outfit—not to mention the chaos that is my damp hair under the helmet—I can either freak out about it now or brush it off.
I decide the latter is my best option, because I guess if he doesn’t like me as is, then it’s his loss.
“This place actually catches their fish fresh every day, and I haven’t tasted anything like it.” He eyes me skeptically as we sit at a small table outside, facing the beach. The waves on this side of the island are enormous and nothing like the small swells down in Waikiki. “Wait…you like seafood, right? I’m sorry, I should’ve asked.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I love seafood. Sushi even more, for that matter.”
While I’m not sure what this place is that he’s brought me to—after all, the outside looks like a dilapidated shack—I’m willing to give it a go. Besides, it’s usually restaurants that look like this that serve the best food.
After we place our order, Finn sits forward in his chair and taps his fingers lightly against the top of the table.
“So, tell me something about you.”
Immediately, my mind goes to some of my favorite stories about my best friend and boyfriend, and I start to open my mouth to share. But then I remember all the reasons why I can’t go there. I fiddle with my straw and stare at the ocean.
“Well…my parents divorced when Penn and I were in the fourth grade. My mom moved back down here and remarried a year later and we’ve been coming down every summer since. I love to swim and I race competitively. And you already know that Penn and I are twins, and we’re seventeen. Oh, and we live outside Seattle with my dad.”
“Which one of you was born first?”
Our waitress sets a steaming pot of clams on our table with a platter of garlic bread. The air around us smells like butter and all kinds of goodness, and I realize I may have actually just drooled.
Using the tiny fork the waitress left behind, I snag a few clams and scrape them from their shells. “By luck of the C-section draw, Penn was, but only by thirty-six seconds.”
“Only thirty-six seconds, huh? Bet he holds that one over your head all the time.”