Finley
Friday afternoon, I’m wheeling my duffel out of my apartment when I nearly plow into Eddie. He’s walking down the hall, his backpack slung over one shoulder.
I haven’t really talked to him since the morning I found him asleep on the balcony, but we’ve bumped into each other a few times. Summer’s warning about my “animal-rescuing habit,” plus Eve’s advice to make sure that I’m benefiting from this—whatever this thing is that he and I are doing—had me reeling back a few steps, giving myself some space to assess the Eddie situation.
“Hey,” I say.
He turns to glance over his shoulder as if just noticing me. “Oh…hey, Fin.” His gaze drifts to my bag. “Going somewhere?”
“Yeah.” I untuck the hair from behind my ears, attempting to cover my now-heated cheeks. Why am I blushing? “My little brothers’ birthday party is tomorrow. At my house. In Connecticut…”
Eddie shifts his eyes from my bag to my face, and for a moment, we just stand there, neither of us knowing what to say. Eddie opens his mouth, but the door to the stairwell flies open, and five or six of the guys from his apartment come sprinting down the hall. Both of us dive out of the way, and Eddie ends up pressed up against me. After they pass, he clears his throat and steps back.
“Are they going out?” I ask. That might make for a quiet night in the apartment for him.
He stares at the door they all disappeared behind. “No, they’re strung out. Apparently, it’s extended to the apartment beside yours.”
“And that requires hallway relay races?”
I expect Eddie to crack a joke or tell me something that makes sense. Instead, his expression darkens, but he shrugs and says, “Beats me. I’m not asking questions.”
Above our heads, it sounds like a herd of elephants are running through the hallway. Then the stairwell door flies open again, and the group of guys is even larger this time. One dude with slicked-back hair and red eyes stops in front of Eddie and gives him a light smack on the cheek. “Come on, rebel boy, join the party! It’s gonna be forty-eight hours of loaded fun.”
“Loaded fun,” Eddie repeats dryly. “Nice.”
After they’ve gone again, I glance at Eddie. He looks completely overwhelmed. “Maybe a good weekend for a visit home?”
“Yeah, maybe.” He diverts his eyes from mine. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’s not going home, despite the fact that home for him is only a few blocks away.
“They might have trouble staying loaded for forty-eight hours without these…” Eddie reaches into his sweatshirt pocket and holds up a clear plastic bag full of colorful pills.
I lean in to get a closer look. My heart picks up at the mere sight of the drugs. I glance both ways down the hall, checking to make sure we’re alone. “Where did you get those?”
“Just plucked them off Mr. Grease Head.”
“Just now? While I was standing right here?” I lift an eyebrow after he nods. “So it’s not only breaking and entering for you. You’re a pickpocket too?”
Eddie smiles for the first time today. “Piano player, actually. But you know what they say…”
I snatch the bag from his hand. “These need to go away.”
He follows me into my apartment—luckily, we’re alone—and watches, saying nothing when I dump the pills into the toilet and flush them away. “You don’t think I’m polluting the water supply, do you?”
“If you are, you’re not the only one.” Eddie heads for the apartment door, holding it open for me. While I’m locking up again, the guys come running through the hall for a third lap, this time with a few girls in tow and several bottles of liquor sloshing as they sprint past us.
“Seriously,” I snap. “Are they actually trying to accomplish something? Record-breaking consumption while running through apartment halls?”
“No idea.” Eddie shakes his head and glances at the stairwell. He looks miserable. “Well…have a good weekend.”
I exhale. Yep, have a good weekend, Finley. A good weekend rounding up old friends who are probably too busy to hang out. A good weekend not trying to get your ex back like a pathetic, lovesick girl, and definitely not making attempts to rescue guys who were supposed to be one-night stands.
Even though Summer has made valid and very vocal points regarding my lesser habits, I’m rooted to my spot in the hallway, watching Eddie head over to the stairwell, the weight of whatever he’s facing right now heavy and present in each step. I release a sigh loud enough to make him turn around. Then while I’m grumbling, calling myself all kinds of names inside my head, I do probably the best thing possible to prevent the success of my life improvement plan.
I nod in the direction of the elevator. “Come on. You’re going home with me.”