One thing I knew for sure was something was happening between Finn and me. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it lingered in the air between us when we were together. I didn’t want to think too much into it and get hurt. It was more than obvious to me that I was falling for Finn. I might have already fallen, except I had no idea what it felt like to be in love with someone. I just knew that everything about him made me smile and every time I was with him, life felt tolerable—better even.

I rode in the passenger’s side of Stephen’s mom’s car, thinking about whether or not I was in love with Finn. Was it even possible to love someone in a month? What would I do once he didn’t come to the church to work anymore? Would I just forget about him? Could I? I knew I didn’t want to. I wanted him. Even if I didn’t understand what it meant to want someone, I wanted him.

I contemplated pulling out my hair when Stephen bought us movie tickets to yet another G-rated movie. In the back of my mind, I begged for something dirty and R-rated. I thought about asking Stephen to take me to a bad movie just so I could at least get a laugh from of his appalled facial expression. Geez, he was such a stick in the mud. More than ever, I longed for Finn’s flirty ways and bad-boy looks.

An hour into the movie, I got up to go to the bathroom. I didn’t really need to go, but a girl can only look at so many cartoon characters before her eyes start to blur. I stepped into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Something was different. I was different.

I washed my hands, dried them, and then ran my fingers through my hair to get it to lie down. When I’d killed enough time, I opened the door to leave the bathroom. I gasped when I found Finn standing there in the doorway, looking back at me. He pushed through and pulled me into the large stall in the back of the room.

Part of me was nervous, and the other part was so happy that something exciting was happening. Leave it to Finn to make things feel more alive. My hand felt small in his. The warmth from his fingers dissolved into mine and worked its way up my arm.

Once we were in the stall, he locked the door behind us and pushed me up against it. It didn’t hurt and I was disgusted by the fact that I liked it. I enjoyed him taking over me—I enjoyed being manhandled. It was refreshing after dealing with Stephen and his shy, passive ways.

He placed a hand against the door on each side of my head, trapping me between them. Stormy blue eyes took me in—anger in his brows. Reaching up, I gripped his arm and took a deep breath. His eyes left mine and dipped down to my mouth. The anger on his face melted away and his face softened.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he slurred.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered.

Removing his hand from the door, he caressed my cheek with his thumb. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feel of him.

“I needed to see you.”

He wasn’t talking right—his eyes not focusing well. There was a strange smell to him that stung my nose and made my eyes water. I could only assume it was alcohol.

“Have you been drinking?” I asked as I pressed against his chest to make him back up.

“That’s right. Push me away. Do you know I’ve been pushed away my entire life? There was always someone giving me away like I was nothing.”

He was talking out of his head and I was getting a little nervous.

“What are you talking about, Finn?” I reached down for the lock on the door just in case he wasn’t the guy I thought he was and he pulled something crazy.

“My mom calls me Jimmy Finn. She’s the only person who calls me that. I think that’s funny since she’s the only person who’s ever wanted me. Foster home after foster home and the one woman who gives me a new name keeps me.”

He was finally starting to make sense.

“You’re adopted?” I asked.

He nodded his head with sad eyes. I’d once heard that kids were treated badly in foster homes. Amanda told me a story about a kid who’d been accidently killed by the parents and they never reported it so they could keep collecting money from the state.

I reached up and pushed his hair from his forehead. He closed his eyes and pressed his face into my palm. It was such a sweet thing for him to do. I ran my thumb across his cheek over and over again, enjoying the feel of his soft facial hair.

“I didn’t know that about you,” I said.

He opened his eyes and looked down at me. His blue irises glowed under the florescent lights of the red-and-black tiled bathroom.

“There’s a lot that you don’t know about me.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but the bathroom door cracked open, stopping me.