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‘Would you be interested in a cup of coffee some time?’ Finn had been thinking about it all day, had gone to bed more confused than he thought a social interaction would leave him, and even his dreams had interacted with the words – and the man who’d said them. He’d signed the package his neighbour had asked him to accept in his stead, and it sat on his coffee table where Finn had been staring it down from the couch in lieu of reading the book just sitting in his hands.
Coffee. The man’s easy charm and warmth had been so alarmingly disarming that Finn had entirely forgotten to actually hit on him like he usually did. A coping mechanism – or a bad habit, rather. They’d had something of an actual conversation instead, something that not many of Finn’s first meetings with people involved. The offer of coffee had caught him off guard so much that he still wondered if maybe he’d imagined it. Who even asked him for coffee? He’d said yes, despite not being that big a fan of coffee. It said enough about his genuine surprise on the matter.
Pulling his hand through messy blonde hair, Finn got up when his phone said it was a little past five, and picked up the package. Be cool, he told himself, as though he was often socially clumsy. Heading out of his flat, he crossed the hall and knocked on the door that said ‘303′. “Just chill, Finnán,” he whispered, looking up and down the hall, meeting the eyes of a woman heading for the lift with a grin. “’Ey, love.” And then his head snapped forward when the door opened. “Hey. Got your package.”
