Unmasked

Valerie's POV

I was exhausted.

The trip back in Gabe's Jeep was horrendous. Emma was lucky to have booked a flight; she'd left two days before we did, but then again, Emma was traveling for work. Anyway, Gabe's car seated five people, no problem there, but our bags had to be squeezed with surgical precision into the trunk. We stopped for the night in a motel. Obviously, I hadn't been horrendously murdered—I even managed to take a quick shower. Gabriel spent the trip smoking—not pot, just plain cigarettes. Which was still bad on many levels, mainly because I spent hours with my window rolled down, fighting smoke inhalation.

"Miss Valerie? I just stocked your bathroom with fresh linens." Simone's voice fluttered somewhere over my head. I made a tired sound, letting her know I got the memo. "Would you like me to bring you dinner?" I was too tired to feel hunger. Still, I knew Simone would come close to force feeding me if need be.

"Is anyone else home?"

"No. Your father is having a business dinner and your step-mother left for LA yesterday to meet a client."

"I'll eat here." Simone had left once I managed to pull myself out of bed. I glared at the suitcases. Those needed unpacking; I could have someone do it for me, though. I let myself fall back, groaning softly. "I need a shower. I need a relaxing day at the spa. I need to check my mail. I need…" I trailed off.

I needed to see Finn. I couldn't just show up on his doorstep, mainly because I had no idea what street he lived on. I was drunk when he took me there and when I left the apartment, I'd been wrapped up with my appointment with Lydia—argh. Which reminded me, the meetings would restart.

I stared at my phone like it was a poltergeist threatening to kill me. I started typing 'I'm back' but got cold feet. We'd been talking on the phone and texting for almost a week; this shouldn't be hard—things had been flowing effortlessly between us. But now we were back and close and… and this was real.

I didn't notice Simone coming in and leaving a plater on my desk. I told myself to get it over with and just text him. What was the worst that could happen? I was being stupid. I typed again: I'm back. When can I see u?

I hit send, then, I had to fight the urge to toss my phone to the other side of my bedroom. I sat in my swivel chair, eating the chicken salad. The phone pinged when I was finishing up. I felt my heartbeat slow at his answer: whenever you want.

***

Finn was coming over. We weren't going to stay here. Because we were going out. As in: we were going on a date. Where? I hadn't the faintest idea. You didn't do that to a girl; otherwise, figuring out what to wear became hellish. Finally, though, I picked a tunic-like dress in baby-blue that looked great with my acquired tan; it was longer in the back and shorter in the front. The sleeves were lengthy, but cut open from the elbow down, exposing my lower arms. I'd just finished slipping a thick silver bracelet in place, to cover the scar, when the duplex shook with a doorbell ring.

I had an impulse to rush for the door, so that I could stop Simone from finding out what I was doing. There wasn't a chance in hell or heaven that I could make it before her, especially since I was applying lipstick. Done, I grabbed my bag and left the room quickly. Simone and I met halfway down the staircase. I received a funny look. Good God. I tilted my head with a severe expression.

"Don't tell anyone." I whispered.

Simone made a gesture with her hands as if saying 'this has nothing to do with me'. I took the lead, holding my breath for the moment I would see him. Finn was standing near the large panoramic window. Hearing my sandals on the marble, he glanced over. I would never get tired of seeing that face—the one he made whenever I was wearing something he liked. As Simone made her way down, his eyes were quick to settle on my face; I swear she gave us a grin. I ignored that, watching her leave to do whatever in the dining room.

"Nice tan." Finn cleared his throat. I grinned; we met each other half way, standing near the coffee table.

"Thanks. It was either sunbathing or learning how to roll joints with Gabe."

Finn shook his head, grinning.

"Okay, smartass, ready to go?"

I crossed my arms.

"I don't see any flowers."

Finn made a pained face. I did my best not to laugh.

"You promised." In the car—after the panic attack.

My face split into a tiny smirk, "I know, I'm kidding." I reached out for the hand hanging loosely at his side. "Let's go."

We were inside the elevator in five minutes. As soon as those doors closed behind us, Finn leaned down, searching for my lips. I tipped my head in response, locking them together. I was wearing a matte lipstick, it wouldn't rub off. At least, it would last longer. Finn's free hand slipped out of his jeans' pocket, cupping my cheek. I'd missed this—missed him. The elevator gave a small jolt, stopping on another floor. We broke off slowly as four other people joined in. Finn licked his lips before standing side to side with me; his fingers squeezed mine. I looked up, watching a devious smile spreading. I giggled. A woman turned to glare at us, like somehow our presence managed to annoy her more than the elevator jingle.

We had to walk a good twenty minutes to reach Finn's car. I was tugging my seatbelt into place when he popped open the glove compartment and grabbed a plastic package. I stilled as Finn leaned back in his seat, holding out the packet to me.

"You bought me marshmallows?" it was a stupid, rhetorical question because the package was staring at me.

"Well, you know, after our multiple conversations on them I thought it was a safe bet."

I took the bag from him, resisting the urge to bite my lip. I was secretly happy he hadn't gotten me flowers. This meant more—it wasn't conventional. I was starting to learn I liked unconventional things. I dropped the large bag in my lap, stretching across the gearshift, pecking his lips.

"I'll share them with you."

"Huh… I don't really like marshmallows. I'm more of a gummy bear type of guy." I did a quick double-take. Finn rested a temple against his headrest. "And by that, I mean: I'm kidding and I'll totally eat that entire bag. I do like gummy bears, though."

"Dully noted." I went to rip it open, but Finn reached out a hand.

"Our date involves food. You should save those for later."

"What kind of food?" he didn't look like he was about to disclose that. "What if I don't like it?"

"I know you like it."

I gave him an icy look which Finn met head-on with a steely gaze. I broke it first, sighing. I gestured to the wheel.

"Fine. Drive."

"What, no please?" I didn't dignify him with an answer. Finn shook his head, getting the key in the ignition. "Aye, aye, your highness."

Throughout our drive to… someplace… I got my marshmallow bag inside the glove compartment, to resist temptation. I busied myself with eying the slow-going traffic. Then again, what else was new? Finn took us over Brooklyn Bridge; I wondered if we were heading for his place? He didn't complain when I started changing stations. It helped that our musical tastes aligned. While we found ourselves stuck yet in another line, I glanced at him. His right thumb was drumming on the wheel; Finn was wearing a faded maroon t-shirt and dark jeans. He took a beat from staring at the unmoving cars, looking at me.

"Something on your mind?"

"No, I was just..." I stopped myself.

Finn tilted his head; his lips tugged into a smirk—the arrogant sort.

"Checking me out?" the challenge was evident in his voice.

I sat a little straighter in my seat, borrowing an air of arrogance from my Ice Queen.

"Yes. I like that color on you." Finn dipped his head in a quick glance at the t-shirt. "And you have a nice face to look at."

Finn's expression became one of disbelief, "A nice face? That's a compliment? Nice?"

"Yes."

"A nice face?"

"Finn," I warned. He scowled stubbornly. "Does handsome work better for you?"

"Much better."

"Alright. You have a handsome face, Finn Matthews. I hope you recorded that because it's the last time I'll say it."

Finn sighed.

"You're unbelievable." but there was no bite behind the offhand murmur. I relaxed in my seat.

We'd spent nearly an hour traveling to this secret date-place. My legs were still on the mend from our trip back, so when I climbed out of his Chevrolet my knees protested from being cramped for such a long time after only a night's rest. I walked to Finn's side; he started walking, taking us somewhere through the streets of Brooklyn I was so unfamiliar with. Our hands brushed as we walked. I don't know who grabbed whose hand, but soon, we were walking hand-in-hand like any regular couple. We stopped at a corner, where a small house-like establishment was. The single window was wide, allowing onlookers to look inside. I quickly deduced this little place served pancakes—nearly everyone was eating them.

"Have you ever had pancakes?" I nodded. I glanced up at him. "Okay. Come on." he pulled me, pushing the door open. We leaned against the wall for a minute before a woman told us there was a table for two. There were a few large groups waiting in the lobby, same as us.

We sat down on wooden folding chairs and Finn asked someone for a menu. I leaned forward, resting both arms on the table. He turned the menu towards me and started pointing with his finger explaining how the orders worked.

"You can pick a stack of two or four pancakes and they can be made out of any of these," he ran his finger along multiple choices for the dough. Simple, chocolate, oats... So many choices. "You can pick a topping—or more than one. You can put fruit on them, ice-cream..."

"I got it." he sent me a sheepish grin. My eyes fell on the menu and its long listings. I studied it for over five minutes. "I want normal dough with... Greek yogurt as topping."

"Just that?"

I scoffed, "Not even close. I want kiwi and banana—and chocolate ice-cream!"

"Okay." Finn boasted a laugh. "I'm going to have..." he turned the menu towards him. "Blueberry dough, whipped cream as topping and..." he slid the menu back around. Finn smiled. "You get to pick an ice-cream for me."

There was something adorable about him letting me pick something for him. I wanted to kiss him. So, I did. I braced my weight on my arms and lifted myself enough to reach Finn's face. He was caught off guard, not reacting immediately. It was tender but strong, our mouths were solidly molded together in what felt like our longest kiss. When my eyes opened, I saw his and they were soft: a beautiful summer storm. My face was relaxed into a real smile; I didn't stop smiling even when I sat back down. I tucked hair behind an ear.

"Is there something you're allergic to?" Finn shook his head, surprised I'd asked. "I wouldn't want you to drop dead on our first date. That would be anticlimactic."

"Gee, thanks."

"White chocolate?" he made a face. "Yeah, I think it's too sweet too. How about Oreo?"

"I'll take that one. Do you want anything to drink?" he flipped toward the end of the menu. "You've got smoothies, hot drinks, cold drinks..."

Finn and I both chose a mocha latte.

"You've been here before." I stated after a lady took our orders.

"With my Dad. He used to bring me when I was younger, after… swimming competitions. I haven't been here in a while."

I chose to take a step in the snoopy direction.

"Did you win a lot of competitions? I didn't see any medals or trophies in your room. I thought boys liked to surround themselves with those."

Finn chuckled. But it was a bitter sound.

"I guess I'm not as good as you think I am." Liar. I felt that chilly side of me wanting to rage against it, to call him out on it. I heaved a long sigh, exhaling steadily through my nose. I needed to be logical about this. Finn hadn't lied about Emma trying to kiss him, which was something way more serious than having trophies and a jacket stashed in a carton box in a closet. So, the logic conclusion was: there was something bigger lurking in the shadows of his decision for quitting the team. To hide his prowess. Because as far as I could tell, not even Thomas knew about Finn's life before St. Joseph's. "What about you?"

"What about me?" I said caught off guard.

"Have you ever competed in anything? Like an art contest or something?"

"Oh. No. I…" I couldn't believe this. I steeled myself. Why did I have to like an idiot with a sharing problem? From what I learned with Ms. Coleman, to persuade someone to tell you something, it helped if you shared first. She'd done it with me—at the beginning. "I used to play the violin. Once, my mother caught me messing around with one of hers and thought I sounded good. I never did recitals, though." Finn better appreciate this; my foot was bouncing under the table. "I stopped taking lessons after she died. I tried to… But it reminded me of her too much." Every good thing about me was a reminder of her.

I could read on his face he didn't quite know what to say. Instead of saying anything, Finn reached out, covering one of my hands with one of his. His fingers roamed the underside of my arm—his fingertips touched the thick silver bracelet, causing me to tense up. He didn't mess with it, though.

"How were things with your aunt?" I sidestepped the conversation topic of my mother. If Finn noticed, it didn't show on his face.

"It wasn't completely boring…" Finn told me about his sister's tendency to polarize attention from everyone in a room; he told me about his brother's wedding—even though I already knew—and I pretended to be surprised; then he told me about the few last days with his aunt.

"I have an uncle on Dad's side." I answered—we both leaned away from the table when our orders arrived. We'd both asked for a stack of two pancakes; mine were covered with yogurt, banana and kiwi and in the center was a scoop of dark chocolate. "I don't see much of him. He lives in Seattle. Sometimes he and his family come over for Dad's birthday."

"Not on the holidays?" I shook my head, busily stabbing a piece of kiwi and pancake. Finn scooped massive piece of Oreo ice-cream into his mouth, followed by blueberry pancake with whipped cream. I covered my mouth—laughing. I focused on chewing the food still in my mouth before this date turned into a 911 call. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," I managed after swallowing and surviving a choking incident. I reached across the way, wiping the left corner of his mouth with a thumb. It came away with a whipped cream. Finn looked embarrassed and annoyed until I licked my finger clean, smiling.

Finn pressed a fist against his mouth. I still saw the grin.

"Don't do that."

"What? Your face was… dirty." Finn shook his head with a you-know-what-you-did look. "Oh, you mean this?" I dipped a finger into the yogurt topping and brought it to my lips; I kept my gaze steadfast on his as I sucked the bitter Greek yogurt off my finger. "Is this a problem for you?"

"In a way." Finn muttered softly, grimacing. He glared down at his plate. "God, you're a sadist."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Finn. I'm just eating pancakes." I stabbed a piece of golden dough, waving it in the air. "Just eating my pancakes." I sing-songed.

We stayed there long after we finished our pancakes and our drinks. At one point, I ended up telling Finn about my dislike for graphic scenes, the ones with way too much fake blood and guts everywhere; I told him about my fascination with ghosts and he laughed like he'd laughed over my yoga misadventures which earned him a kick in the shin.

"I could've aimed higher." I shrugged at his narrowed glare.

When it was time to pay, I felt a little awkward. Jackson and I had never discussed who paid for what; it didn't matter, we both had money to spare. I didn't want Finn to pay for me, but I also didn't want to say I'd pay—he might take it the wrong way.

"Can we split?"

"Sure." He got his wallet out and I did the same.

Outside, Finn pulled me along. I had no clue where he was taking me and for once in my life, I didn't care to be in control, I just enjoyed our clasped hands. Finn tugged me close once we walked near a construction site.

"Just in case a bucket of cement falls on your head."

"That's not eerie at all." His lips pinched. I poked his side, "Are we lost?"

"I don't get lost in Brooklyn, Valerie." a small shiver crawled along my spine.

We ended up at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. I let Finn pay for my ticket, because he said I could pay next time. All my brain heard was: next time. We ambulated down random paths, because Finn hadn't been here before, until we stumbled into the Cranford Rose Garden. It was summer, everywhere you looked there were splashes of color: red, pink, yellow, white, creamy and slightly orange. We decided to follow a hundred plus people; some were clearly tourists, snapping pictures and carrying backpacks. Two kids came running at us—a girl chasing a boy—I quickly put some space between Finn and me, letting the boy ran past through; the girl ran around me.

"So," Finn said once the kids ran away laughing. "Do you want to play tag?" I laughed and his face split in a smile—on of those perfect smiles. He looped an arm around my shoulders, tucking me into his side. "You laugh like a five-year-old."

"Excuse me?"

"No, really, you do. It's the cutest thing." I tilted my face into his chest, desperately wishing to hide a massive blush. The mixed fragrance accompanied us to the end of the garden, where people were snapping photos of a bronze figure; it was of a young woman holding a butterfly sundial. Breaking out of my transfixed stare, I became aware of Finn looking down at me, almost as fascinated as I'd been with the statue.

We roamed the garden until it was closing time; we spent time in the Shakespeare Garden, but my favorite was the Water Garden. I loved water-lilies and lotus flowers. Plus, we spent some time on a small bridge, leaning against the rail, kissing. We walked all the way back to Finn's car, my poor legs wanted to give out and they sort of did; we were sitting in the backseat and I couldn't really feel my muscles.

"I should take you home," he said between a kiss. "It's going to be a long ride." It was rush hour.

"I could hail a cab..."

"You can, if you don't want to spend more time with me." Finn teased. My hands slid up his chest. I kissed him—my blood was boiling.

"I guess you're driving me home." I mustered against his lips.

"Yes, I am." He tipped my chin upward, then kissed me softly.