Snatched

This is going downhill— I scramble. “No, no, not like that. I mean, yes, but it was just to speed things up, so we were waiting in a stupid closet all night to see if you’d bring some girl in that library room. Mandy basically brought out the big guns early, is all.”

Finn exhales, and a vein in his temple throbs. “You and your sister were hiding in a closet, spying on me, waiting to see if I’d cheat on you with a girl you two specifically sent to hit on me.”

I hinge, bite my lip. The amusement is gone now, and there’s something cold in his eyes— something hurt. I start, “Finn—”

“How many more times do I need to convince you that you’re the one I want, Kenley?” he says.

“That’s it! Zero more times!”

“But you didn’t believe me the first time. Or the second. It took you literally setting a trap. What have I ever done to you that makes you think you can’t trust me?”

My chest feels swollen and heavy. I shake my head frantically. “It’s not that I don’t trust you— it’s that Mandy doesn’t—”

“She’s your sister. You didn’t have to listen to her. No one made you get in a closet and spy on me.”

“Okay, well, maybe sometimes I get nervous too then. I just— Finn, guys like you and girls like me don’t usually get together, okay? I was just scared, I guess, and worried that maybe I was being tricked or something…I figured it had to be a trick, for you to want me.”

“You mean you figured I had to be a fuck up. Because I’m a football player, because I’m from a rough part of town, because I get in trouble. Because of all that, I had to be lying when I said I wanted you.”

“Finn, stop. That’s not what I said,” I say, and step toward him. He doesn’t move; he looks almost like a statue, and it makes me freeze in similar fashion.

“The thing I like about you, Kenley,” he begins, slowly, “is that you believe in shades of gray. I tried to be that football asshole to you— I was naked when you showed up that first day, and so I just ran with it. But you shot it down. You weren’t interested in that person, and you refused to give him the time of day. The only person you were interested in was me. The real me.”

“Exactly! Exactly,” I say nodding hopefully.

“And come to find out that you still think that I’m a football asshole, deep down,” Finn says, shaking his head. “One more person waiting for me to fuck up.”

“I’m not waiting—”

“I think you need to go home,” Finn says, shaking his head, refusing to meet my eye. My chest clenches, my throat goes dry.

“Finn, please, let’s talk about this.”

“Let’s not,” he says. “Come on. I’ll take you to my dorm and call you a cab. You shouldn’t be walking home alone in the dark.” He immediately starts walking in that direction, leaving me with nothing to do but follow as tears rise in my eyes.

“Finn, I’m sorry. I really am. Mandy just got the best of me. But now I know! And she knows, and it’s fine!” I say, stammering some version of this for the entirety of the one minute walk to the dorm lobby. Once there, Finn breezes through the doors, into the lobby’s warm light.

“Please, just talk to me,” I try again.

“Steve?” Finn calls to the concierge, who immediately rises as Finn continues on toward the elevators. “Can you please call Kenley a cab and make sure she gets home okay?”

“Of course.”

“No, Finn,” I say. “Please, just –“

“Miss, you’ll need to stay here— you can’t go to the upper floors without an access card or a resident,” the concierge says, racing around the desk. He stops between me and the elevators; I look past him just in time to see Finn step on one. He turns, and our eyes meet briefly before the door glides shut.

Chapter 15

Two weeks.

I haven’t heard from him in two weeks.

No texts, no phone calls, no emails.

I texted him once, but got no reply.

I emailed him once, but got no reply.

In fact, the only email I get regarding Finn Thorne is from Dr. Reams.

Miss Sullivan,

I am very disappointed to hear that you are no longer tutoring Mr. Thorne, and am particularly disappointed that I had to hear about it via his professor rather than you. This is incredible irresponsible of you— Mr. Thorne is not only of great importance to the Harton football legacy, but is also a client.

As I have always stressed, tutoring clients are to be respected and taken seriously. Parting ways with your client without setting up a new tutor, alerting his professors, or alerting me, your advisor, is against tutoring center policy and makes me question your dedication. If there is a reasonable excuse as to why you would abandon your responsibilities so blithely, I would certainly like to hear it.