Finn's not like, in love with her or anything. And it's not like he's opposed to the idea of love, he just… doesn't love her. Sure, she's beautiful in a way that makes his heart beat a little faster every time he sees her and every time she rolls her eyes or opens her mouth to say something that indicates she's not going to take any of his shit, it feels like his bones might jump out of his skin.
She might have good taste in music, and he might even let her control the stereo even when she doesn't ask, but that doesn't mean that he's in love with her, or anything.
It just means he appreciates that she appreciates the music he likes, the good kind, the kind that nobody else that he knows likes as much as they do, or even at all.
He likes that she's not his usual type, but then again she's not his type, because
if she was that would mean he thought about her being his type, and he definitely hasn't thought about her in that way at all. He just likes that she wears band t-shirts and jeans. He likes her long black hair that reaches the small of her back. He likes that even when she doesn't wear makeup, which is never, he still has to look down every once in a while so he can think straight.
He's not like, infatuated with her even. He just likes that she doesn't take any of his shit, which he finds thrilling and refreshing. It's like, whenever she walks into a room, he's just
aware. It's like, even before he knows she's near, his body does and he's scrambling for another cigarette because somehow it's easier to be calm around her when there's smoke clouding his thoughts so it's not all just her.
He's not in love with her or anything, even when they start getting along and even after he apologizes for being a total nobhead to her. She seems happy with his apology and they get on for a few days, until something changes. She doesn't let him hug her anymore, she doesn't hear him when he talks and when she does she acts like she didn't know he was even speaking. He's always hated being the center of attention, always hated hearing girls whispering about him and calling him a fit lad, but now when he wants it, or at least a little bit attention, he doesn't get it from the one person he wishes would give him attention. He tries to talk to her about music, tries to get to her by putting on a song he knows she likes but it's no use. She barely even looks at him anymore.
One night at Rae's, when she has the house to herself and Chop suggests they have a sexy party, he decides enough is enough when he has a full on conversation with her and she doesn't hear a thing he says.
They're playing spin the bottle and he stands as soon as the bottle lands on him. He doesn't pay attention to the shaking in his legs, and when Rae eventually follows him, he holds open the closet door for her so she can go in before him. He asks her what's up, why she's being totally rude. He thought they were good, thought they were friends, but he gets no information from her that clears up his frustration and confusion. She tells him she doesn't want to be his friend and he definitely doesn't feel an ache in his chest, because that would mean something else entirely.
He gets a call later that his gran died and he feels a heavy weight lift from his chest when Rae spots him in her moms room where he sits crying on the edge of the bed. Her arms around him are both comforting and confusing and they end up talking all night in her own bed, and Finn doesn't like talkin' to anybody.
It goes like this for weeks. Finn knowing she's near before he can even process it. Finn putting on her favorites songs because she notices it now. They've started a game of fingers on thighs and on the back of hands, like a silent form of communication that only the two of them are in on. His fingers against her skin are like fire and she feels like smooth gold beneath his touch. He has her morning coffee ready for her before class, always makes her wear the helmet when he takes her for a ride on his bike. He doesn't let her remove her arms from around his body when he's driving, he makes sure to keep them there by placing a hand over hers. He sits next to her when they go to the pub, always making excuses to get his greedy fingers on her skin so he can make her blush with the words he traces against her leg. His heart beats faster now and he's up to rolling three cigarettes an hour. He smells her hair when they hug and one time when they do he ignores her arms and goes right in to place a quick and soft kiss to her cheek. He thinks of her at night in bed, but it's not like he's in love with her, or anything.