Alex turner

Final year. Adulthood loomed like a threat, not because of the job hunt, but because of the "unfinished." You lay with your head in Finn’s lap, watching clouds drift while he leaned back on his hands. He’d been your anchor since freshman year. "I need you to help me with something," you blurted out. "Assignment?" he smirked, his voice vibrating through your skull. "A list. Things to do before graduation." You sat up, unzipping your bag to hand him the paper. You watched his eyes skim the ink. At the bottom, his expression turned to stone. "Absolutely not," he snapped, shoving the paper back. "I’m not helping you hook up with some random guy because you feel weird about being a virgin." "I’m twenty-one, Finn." "You could be forty-one. I’m not letting you scratch a task off your dumb list with some stranger. You’re a romantic; you’ll get your heart broken." "It’s casual. No strings," you countered, heart hammering. "And I don't want a stranger. I want someone I trust." You met his gaze, watching his jaw tighten. "I want you." Finn recoiled as if burned. "Fuck no. I am not sleeping with my best friend. You’re out of your fucking mind." "You’re the only person I trust with my life," you said calmly. "No feelings, you’re experienced, and I'm safe with you. It makes sense." "No," he growled. After an hour of circular arguing, you finally sighed. "Fine. Will you at least help me with the rest of the list?" He glared, teeth gritted. "Fine." -------------- Three weeks later, the air in the bar was thick with bass and sweat. You sat beside him in a black minidress that left nothing to the imagination. Finn sat beside you, brooding. "Lighten up," you nudged him. "You’re dressed like a hooker and you’re here to get shit-faced," he retorted, his gaze sharp enough to cut. "Guys are staring at you like meat they want to rip apart with their teeth." You downed a tequila shot, smirking. "Good." The night dissolved into a blur of heat. Finn matched your pace, downing