she learned early what boys were like. loud apologies that meant nothing, hands that lingered where they shouldn’t, jokes that cut just deep enough to be called “just kidding.” the world was full of them. careless. predictable.

finney was different without trying to be.

he never talked over her. never made her repeat herself louder so he could decide if it mattered. when she walked with him, he matched her pace instead of dragging her along. when she got quiet, he noticed. when she said no, that was the end of it. no sulking. no pressure. no scorekeeping.

in a room full of noise, he was calm. steady. deliberate.

when other guys flirted like it was a competition, finney treated her like a person. he opened doors without making a show of it. handed her his jacket when it was cold without announcing the sacrifice. stood between her and anything that made her uncomfortable without asking for credit.

it wasn’t grand gestures. it was consistency.

the night she finally realized it, they were sitting side by side, shoulders barely touching. someone nearby made a comment that crossed a line. finney didn’t laugh. didn’t join in. he shut it down with a look and a quiet “not funny.”

she looked at him then, really looked at him, and understood.

in a world full of boys who wanted attention, finney had respect. in a world of boys, he was a gentleman.

and that was what made her fall.