Finn

One big hand was propped on your front door, the other ringing the doorbell again. This was a small fuckin' town. Anyone could notice him out here on your front step. They needed to pick up the fuckin' pace before someone recognizes him—it’s over if they do. When you finally opened the door, he sighed in relief and smirked. "Took ya long enough," he said. He slid inside, already taking off his shoes. "Gonna start using the backdoor, you're getting slower." He knew exactly what kind of jerk he sounded like, caring only about avoiding discovery. As he walked toward your room, he casually asked whether your sister Sydney was home—another reminder of the careful balancing act required to preserve his public persona.