F2F ➴ FINCHEL.
Not entirely sure why his locker has so may loose sheets of paper inside of it, Finn struggles to find the football team’s game plan which - clearly, was Coach’s mistake to hand over to him in the first place - was meant to get the team through at least first half of the game before completely falling apart in the second half. Being the Quarterback, he’s supposed to be positive about them winning. That’s hard to do when his team is so uncoordinated, though. Feeling a tap on his shoulder, he pauses and turns himself slightly to check who was around him. He smiles at the small brunette. “Hey.” It takes him a moment to realize that his girlfriend doesn’t look as vibrant or excited for the day as per usual. “Why the long face, Rach?” He asks, furrowing his brows slightly as he closes his locker gently. “You’re not cancelling on our date, are you? Because I finally got my mom to lend me the truck.”
She’d expected something more. Had situations been reversed she’d have flung herself into his arms, buried her head in his shoulder, more likely than not cried ----- of course, size difference alone would have made such an occurrence in his case an abnormality, an impossibility, but nonetheless the small and lopsided smile that crosses his face is far from what she’d anticipated. “No. No, of course not.” Though confusion flits ever so briefly across her features, her lips turn up in the slightest; Breadstix wasn’t ideal, wasn’t a mystery dinner theatre, but it was a date. Still, it fades quickly, replaced with concern as a hand moves to rest against his chest. “I was worried about you. I know that Burt’s not your father but I can’t imagine any of this being easy on you. And your mother -- ...” A brief pause, eyes flicking up to meet his. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
