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“What?” Robin patted the spot next to him. “Sit. Stop worrying.”
“I wasn't.” Finney stopped fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater, knowing very well that was what Robin was staring at.
“You were,” Robin countered. “You are.”
“I’m not trying to.” There was that sinking feeling again. His face was warm for all the wrong reasons. Robin didn’t respond, and he felt obliged to repeat himself. “I’m not trying to,” he said again, and when Robin’s eyes fell on him once more, his insides seemed to stop twisting into themselves.
Or,
The adventures of Robin and Finney before the Grabber.
Bookmarked by xweelx
05 Jan 2025
