Unmasked

Finn's POV

April woke up the whole damn house at ten in morning, squealing 'I got in' for everyone alive and undead to hear. Later, I discovered she'd been accepted into that internship she'd applied to. Thankfully, she'd taken my advice and told Mom and Dad about the thing two weeks ago. They hadn't thrown a parade—her idea was to quit studying, no college for her—but they understood her love for design and sewing. Obviously, this morning, Mom made her a stack of pancakes to celebrate. Now, it was little after two o'clock and I was throwing darts. Until my phone shrieked to life. I swiped it off my dresser. It was Thomas. I frowned. Way to sound disappointed.

"Yo," I greeted, lining up another shot at the round board.

"Hey. What are you doing three days from now?" I clicked my tongue; I missed the shot.

"Nothing special."

"Great. Because that's when we're leaving for Valerie's lake house." I almost dropped the phone.

"In three days?"

"Yes." Trip confirmed my hearing wasn't impaired. "Ava and Valerie have been working out everyone's schedule. Gabe invited Sharon along and she's not in New York until Wednesday, but Sharon says she'll be ready to leave on Friday." Three days from now. "Finn? You there?"

"Yeah." My head backtracked to a few days ago, to a long phone call at late hours. "I didn't think we'd be leaving so soon."

"Don't sound so excited, man. Really—contain yourself!" It was nice to know he got kicks at my expense. "Ava talked to her boss and I talked to your Dad. They gave us a two-week break." Dad hadn't breathed a word about it to me. Not like he had to. "You're not backing out, are you?"

"Why would I do that?"

"I can think of one reason and her name starts with a V."

I snorted. If Trip only knew… I collected the darts from the board.

"You really don't like her?" I asked before I could stop myself. I grimaced. I hoped Trip didn't read too much into the question.

"Honestly? I don't know. Ava likes her. I trust Ava's judgment when it comes to people." There was a loud hiss on his side—and cursing. My eyebrows jumped.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Another string of curses and some clanking that sounded an awful lot like—metal?

"I'm making pancakes—shit!" I struggled not to laugh by pressing my lips in a tight, white line. "I'm crap at this…"

"I thought Ava told you not to multitask while in the kitchen?"

"How do you—forget it." I think I heard water running. "We can count on you on Friday?"

"Yeah, man."

"Cool. I'm going to clean this mess…" I almost tossed my phone onto my bed,

but Trip's voice floated from it. "…she's been acting weird. I don't know—nicer, I guess."

I pressed the little thing—that likely helped us develop brain cancer—to my ear way too quickly.

"Who?"

"Valerie." Ah. "Maybe the whole thing with Christian made her want to turn over a new leaf. Maybe her life flashed before her eyes—you know, before you saved her."

I cocked my head.

"I'm smart enough to know what you're implying, Trip." I deadpanned.

"I don't know what you mean, Finn." Trip laughed. "Or maybe she's always had this side to her. Who knows."

"Ava seems to know."

"Ava knows everything. I gotta go, man." And he did. I stared down at the Samsung, thinking Ava was all-knowing and maybe I should follow my gut—and a couple of other urges—when it came to Valerie Monet.

Now, to break the news to my parents and little sister about my going away. I wondered if I could omit the fact that we were going to Valerie's house… Not likely. They were going to grill me on who was going and even my hard-boiled poker face could only withstand so much nagging.

***

"Mom…" I heaved. I almost wished she would go and check on my backpack to see if I'd forgotten to pack toothpaste—almost. "I have to leave." I think this was the longest hug she'd ever given me and that was saying something. With a little huff, Mom relented. I breathed a sigh of relief, shaking out my arms and shoulders. Jesus. "We're only going away for two weeks."

"Two weeks, a month, a year—it makes no difference! You're my baby boy and you're going away for the first time…"

"I went away before."

"But those didn't count! You went with your coach and…" that had been before, when I was on the swim team. Mom hadn't fussed nearly as much then, which I found hilarious. "Finn," Mom placed her hand on my forearm and leaned closer, eying me seriously. "I packed you a box of condoms. It's in the left pouch in your…"

"Mom!" I broke her hold—gripping my head with a mortified expression. "No—why would you do that?"

"You didn't have any!" she hissed.

"Because I'm not planning on doing anything of—no." I shut up. I wouldn't talk about that with her. "Stop going through my stuff. It's so…" I ruffled my blond hair. Seriously, Mom could be overbearing. "Whatever. I need to leave—they're waiting for me."

I was glad Dad was working and April was still snoring the morning away. I slung my backpack over a shoulder. I told Mom I would text later—if Valerie and I didn't kill each other first. We were carpooling together. Trip and Ava were hitching a ride with Gabriel and Sharon in Gabe's Jeep. Thomas didn't want to take either of his cars, which I totally got. How did I get stuck riding with Valerie? I wasn't sure. On the same day Trip called, Valerie and I texted. She told me her friend Emma was meeting us there in two days and that Sebastian wouldn't be able to make it. I smirked as I crossed the bridge to Manhattan; that tiny detail had me over the moon. I'd been ignoring Trip's sly comments about Valerie riding with me and dodging every innuendo my sister's filthy mind formulated about Valerie and me "sitting in a tree".

Blocks away from her apartment, I texted saying she could come down. Who knew the luggage Valerie was hauling? She was a girl—with money—she could be carrying her bedroom closet in ten large bags. She needed time to get the stuff downstairs. When I pulled up at the front of her building, I saw the doorman retreat inside. Not even a minute later, he was holding the door open for a man and woman. One carried a large suitcase with colorful patterns and another carried two small carry-on bags. I should've expected this; a humorless chuckle left me as I climbed out. I popped the trunk open for Valerie's entourage. Both employees thanked me.

"No problem." I leaned on the open lid as they load her stuff. My gaze locked on the building's door, but she was already walking down. My mouth parted a tiny bit, possibly making me look like a bamboozled moron.

Valerie was glaring at her phone, oblivious of my unflinching stare. A summer breeze was blowing, shoving black hair into her face, I watched as she swatted it away, focused on the screen. Miraculously, she didn't twist an ankle walking down the remaining steps. It felt like forever since I'd seen her. Four weeks, my brain boomed. Valerie was wearing a white top and shorts stamped with roses, something my sister would've gushed over. I enjoyed the sight of Valerie's flat stomach, the shapely legs and slim naked shoulders.

The spell broke when Valerie's employees walked past her. She tore her eyes from the screen to wave at them. Her red painted lips moved, uttering words I couldn't catch. I slammed the trunk without a care. Someone was stealing control of my body, because I was walking towards the passenger side, stepping in her way. With a small jump, Valerie looked up at me. Her eyes were obscured by sunglasses.

"Jeez! You scared me." She said, sounding out of breath.

I jerked my chin at the car.

"I needed to open the trunk. And… hmm… since I was out here, I… thought I'd get the door for you." It was the first thing that came to mind. Because I wasn't sure what freakish gravitational pull got me here.

Her lips twitched upward in a little smile. I twisted around and opened her door, so I wouldn't fantasize about her lips. Valerie got inside while I glared up at the cloudless sky. Once I settled in, I saw her toss a denim jacket and shoulder bag into the backseat, things I hadn't noticed her carrying before. Her outfit was that distracting.

Valerie pushed the glasses back, revealing eyes brimming with energy. Alright, it wasn't just her outfit—it was all of her.

"I was texting Ava. They're running late. Sharon lost her phone or something and they're buying a new one."

I side-glanced Valerie. Her face was solemn.

"You're not joking?"

"No." Okay. Well… "What do we do now?"

"I sent Ava the directions they'll need. I figured we could go ahead?"

"Fine by me." I mumbled, turning the key. My precious baby roared to life. "We're stopping somewhere for the night, anyway. They can catch up to us there." The drive was about eight hours long; there was no way in hell I was going to sit inside my car—no matter how much I loved it—for that much time. We agreed on making a pit stop. Smith Mountain Lake would still be waiting for us tomorrow. Valerie's nose scrunched. "We've been over this. One night in a motel won't kill you."

She fixed me with a bland glare.

"Have you ever heard of Psycho? Bates Motel?"

"Yes. Have you ever seen the Shinning? It wasn't a motel—it was a fancy hotel and it was haunted and turned people crazy. I guess bad things can happen anywhere. Who would've thought?"

Valerie twisted towards the door, offering me her back. This was off to a good start.

Valerie's POV

I'd been giving Finn the cold shoulder—well, the cold back—for about thirty minutes now. He kept quiet, switching stations when songs he didn't like came on. Occasionally, he would sigh. We were getting stuck in traffic a lot and it was hot—I couldn't blame him. I was moping about having to spend a night at some dingy, random motel, because firstly: that just wasn't me. Secondly, I had a problem with hygiene and potential serial killers running motels.

Sue me.

I kept nibbling on my lip. My lipstick was in ruins by now, I knew. I wanted to steal a glance at Finn. More than a passing glance. He was wearing a denim shirt and dark jeans. The faded blue of Finn's shirt made his gray eyes pop out. I felt a lick of desire in my stomach…

I jumped—almost banging my forehead on the window.

"Whoa," Finn's fingers retreated quickly. The skin-on-skin contact had been unexpected. Slowly, I sat facing the dashboard, like a normal person—not me—would. "Were you sleeping?"

My mind couldn't help but drift to days ago—when I let him think I'd fallen asleep while we talked on the phone. Blinking several times, I shook my head.

"No. I was just being my bratty self." Finn and I looked at each other at the same time. His mouth was pinched, like he was fighting for patience. "Did you need something, Matthews?"

After a beat, his gaze shifted to the windowpane.

"Directions, if my Queen wouldn't mind."

I thought about punching the address into my iPhone and telling him to follow the phone's GPS, but despite him trying to get a rise out of me, I discovered I wanted to talk. To… listen to his voice. I kept my eyes on the road, same as Finn, checking when we needed to switch lanes and take exits. It was a monotonous thing to do. At least, we weren't yelling and causing a massive car crash on the highway. Ava texted saying they were going to grab lunch before leaving New York. Was it weird that I wasn't bothered by my self-proclaimed best friend and others falling behind? Usually I would be mad about them messing up the schedule, but… I craned my head towards the driver's seat. Finn was easing us along the I-78.

Later, we entered Pennsylvania and Finn stopped at a diner to grab lunch.

"Don't make that face." He chastised. "I've been listening to your stomach for over an hour." I straightened, feeling two hot spots on my cheeks. I thought the music had drowned those out!

"You're an ass." With that, I twisted around—first to reach into the back for my bag and then to wrench the door open. I slammed it. I knew that would piss him off. I smirked, walking around to the diner's door… Strong, long fingers wrapped around a wrist. They were loose enough for me to shake. But I couldn't bring myself to. "What?"

Finn turned me around—to face him. He was holding out my jacket. I gave him a questioning look.

"Please put this on." He sounded… I wasn't sure.

"I'm not cold, but thanks for worrying."

"No, it's…" Finn stopped. He blew out a breath, rolling his eyes. "I don't want people to stare at you."

"Finn," I started sweetly. "I know you're not part of my world full-time, but guess what? I'm used to being looked at. Frankly, I don't see what the problem is." I pushed the jacket into his chest, tugging my arm from his hold.

"Valerie—" I re-started walking.

I reached the door just as a couple was exiting. The girl gave me a once over when the guy glared at the midriff between my shorts and top. I didn't give either of them the light of day. Finn was right, I was starving. I tried not to think about the greasy foods—it was still food. I felt someone at my back. I didn't need to look over a shoulder to know it was Finn finally catching up; I walked to an empty booth assuming he would follow. We sat, facing each other. My jacket was nowhere to be seen, he must've thrown it back in the Chevrolet.

I did my best Queen Bee smile. Finn grappled for the menu silently. His face was hidden from view while he chose. My smile fell into a sour line. Talking to him was so much easier on the phone. I sighed heavily leaning back. My foot started tapping the floor—the floor I was doing my best not to check for uncleanliness. I was trying not to notice anything, hoping to pretend this was a three-star restaurant. Bored, I stretched out my right leg, searching. My Louboutin flats found something solid but not unmovable; that something twitched once my pink suede shoe hit it. The menu lowered, and my trained gaze saw him raise an eyebrow.

"Are you playing footsie with me?"

"I'm surprised you know that term, Matthews." I joked, mouth curling on one side. "But no. I wouldn't risk my shoes."

Finn forked over the menu while running his fingers through the mess of waves. I gawked. There were so many things. I searched for something I wouldn't outright cringe at, deciding that eggs were alright—just eggs. I all but slapped the menu down with both hands, looking up at him with decided eyes.

"I want scrambled eggs."

"And?" Finn was trying to call a waitress over to our table. This place was buzzing with people.

"A water."

Finn pinned me with a look.

"That's all you're getting?" I nodded. Finn lowered his hand, leading me to think someone would be coming for our orders soon. "Diner food isn't toxic. This place is nice compared to some I've been to. Near my old school, a diner got shut down after cases of food poisoning." His old school. Where he was on the swim team? My palm itched to collide with my forehead. Really, Valerie? That's what you take away from that story?

"Are you trying to make me more afraid?" he was successful. Finn leaned his folded arms on the table, dipping his head to catch my eyes. I lifted them a little to see him.

"That's a first. I didn't think you were afraid of anything—or anyone." How wrong he was. "My bad."

***

It'd been nearly three hours since we ate. Finn planned on stopping soon. I was moody. My stomach kept acting weird, jumping and constricting for no apparent reason. For about an hour, I blamed it on the food. Now, I was inclined to blame anxiety. The ambience in the car was heavy. I couldn't understand why he didn't just keep driving. We were two hours away!

I threw open my arms.

"I can drive us!"

"No, you can't." He punctured each word. Finn's hands were tight on the wheel.

I leaned across the space separating our seats.

"Yes, I can!"

"You can drive any other car, but not this one, sister." He flung me a heated glare. Daring me to say more. Two sides were at war inside of me. One wanted to argue—wanted to win and slip another victory under her belt. Another part—much more rational—wanted to accept my fate and let go. I felt like a little kid throwing a hissy-fit. I couldn't… I wasn't sure what the hell was wrong with me. Of course, I didn't want to spend a night at a motel, but this was ridiculous. Finn had been driving for hours. Whatever was wrong with me, had nothing to do with a motel or Finn—I wrapped my arms around myself, hating the flaming needles stabbing behind my eyes.

A strangled sound emanated throughout the Chevrolet. Finn had shut off the radio an hour ago, so nothing muffled it. I couldn't see Finn turn my way, but I heard the leather of his seat squeak. I wasn't sure if Finn talked or not—maybe I tuned him out. All I knew was that I was having a hard time breathing. Those choked sounds kept drenching the atmosphere around us. I felt something hot on my cheek—it was brief. Maybe I imagined it. I felt something veer—us? Then we were still, everything was still and calm—everything but my pounding heart.

"Valerie," I heard somewhere. Something warm touched me again. This time it lingered before moving away. There was an audible click above… above the sobbing and wheezing. "What's going on with you? Are you listening?" I was. But it was like I couldn't find the source of the voice. All my thoughts were about Mom. About the lake house. Was this—was this a…

I was suddenly shifted, as I struggled for breath among the memories hitting me without warning. Warmth coiled around my body; something strong enfolded me and held on. Hot breath fanned against the wetness on my face. I felt my hands grabbing at something.

"What about your Mom?" the same voice asked shakily—but soft. I realized I must be spewing incoherent sentences. I gave an answer because Finn spoke in my ear. "It's okay—you're having a… panic attack. You need to breathe, Valerie. Just breathe." A panic attack. My nails dug deeper into softness—there was a hiss. My eyes fluttered, but all I saw were distorted images. The skin around my eyes felt like it had been doused with gasoline and lit. "Don't—don't be stupid."

I think I might have blurted an apology. I couldn't look at him—I needed to calm down. I needed to filter these memories into a dusty room. Where they should've stayed. I buried my face into his shirt, focusing on the here and now; I concentrated on the smell clinging to Finn's skin—sandalwood. Finn caressed the back of my head; the arm around my waist pulled me flush against his chest.

His breaths rustled my dark hair.

"It's alright." He whispered. "Take your time to feel better. This is okay." Finn's arm pressed into the exposed skin of my stomach. But Finn made no moves to edge his hand somewhere uninvited. He didn't try to kiss my lips or neck. He didn't take advantage of the frail, weak state of my mind. Like Jackson had.

I felt free to relax in his arms and soak up the comfort he was dishing out; this wouldn't be taxed.

Mutely, Finn stroke my hair.

"Do you have… a lot of these?"

I swallowed, but the saliva was so thick it felt like it got stuck in my throat. Still, I managed a few words around the lump.

"No. I have moments—because of my Mom. I'm not good with dealing… with memories of her, but nothing like this happened before." Finn knew about Ms. Coleman—he knew I was in therapy. At this point, I didn't think deflecting questions would do any good. "Do you think I'm crazy?" the sound of Finn's heart was surprisingly steady, and it made me cuddle my face against his chest.

Deft fingers trailed along my temple.

"I think we're all a little crazy." That tore a mirthless chuckle from me—it ended in a sniff. "I didn't think you were crazy for going to therapy. I was surprised as hell, but I didn't think less of you." He thought badly of me without that factoid, so…

I coached my steel grip from his arm. I hoped his circulation was alright. I touched the wet spot on his denim shirt, feeling dismayed.

"I'm sorry about the shirt."

"I don't give a crap about the shirt, Valerie." I knew he meant it, because his voice was smooth and serious. "I'm going to call them." I went to open my mouth, but Finn shifted me on his lap—I couldn't say how I'd gotten here—and reached into the pocket of his jeans, producing his cell. He tipped me back against him when I tried to push away; I found courage to glance at his shadowy features. Finn spared me a look before whoever picked up. "Where are you guys?" pause. "Dude, are you serious? No—we stopped to call you. We're just outside Maryland." I could hear another male voice but couldn't make out what it was saying—it could only be Thomas. Finn's hand left the small of my back to scratch at his stubble. "Yeah, we were going to stop here—like we planned. I don't know… You guys are going to stay there? Yeah—it's cool. Okay."

Finn tossed his phone into the unoccupied passenger seat. I shifted in his hold to meet his gray gaze. Finn's hand came up and nimbly brushed wet trails from my cheeks. Feeling hairs stuck to my skin, I plucked them and forced them behind my ears.

"What's wrong?" my voice was so damned raw.

"Nothing's wrong. They were stuck in traffic for hours thanks to a car accident on the interstate. They're arriving at Pennsylvania now." Finn dropped his head against the headrest. "They're staying there tonight." For the first time since my major breakdown, I peeked outside the windows. The sun was barely on the horizon now, I could only see flimsy afternoon crimson lines. Oh, and we were parked on the side of the rode. Cars whisked past us every five seconds. "Valerie," his voice was hesitant. "Do you think you'll be okay—at your lake house?"

I should be. I…

"I don't know why this happened. I… I guess… Maybe it's because I haven't gone there since—since she died. I don't know—" my eyes slipped shut. I breathed in. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong." Yeah, but having a full-on panic attack in front of the boy I was crushing on was awkward. My heart stopped dead. A shiver went through me. Not only because of the sudden admission, but also because of Finn's hands on my hips. "I'm not that tired. I can drive two more hours. Alright?"

A small frown twisted my face.

"You don't need to…"

"No, I don't." Finn half shrugged. "But I want to." I pursed my lips—bronze eyes boring into his. A corner of his mouth kicked up. Finn leaned closer. "Just never ask me for flowers again, deal?"

Finn's mouth stretched into a breathtaking smile.

An idiotic giggle mixed with a small sob whisked past my lips. After several heartbeats of staring into each other's eyes and sharing the same breathing space, I started to make my way to my seat. Finn got his phone out of the way so that I could sit.

Finn started the red Chevy and waited to pull inside the lane. As we drove, entering Maryland, I found I couldn't stop looking at his profile every five minutes. My fingers curled around the edge of my seat.