Finn Hawthorne had driven, but Faye Vaughn didn't dare get in his car.
After all, his fever had just broken.
"With my driving skills, are you actually afraid we'll crash?" Finn Hawthorne grumbled, displeased.
The two got into a taxi and headed to the hot pot restaurant.
In the back seat, Finn Hawthorne leaned his head on Faye Vaughn's shoulder as if he had no bones.
He seemed to have gotten a taste of it and played weak. "My head's still a little dizzy. Let me lean on you for a bit."
"You're too heavy," Faye Vaughn complained. "You're making my shoulder hurt."
Finn Hawthorne sat up straight. "Really? Let me give you a massage."
He wasn't just offering—he actually started.
His palm settled on her shoulder and began to knead.
His grip was strong, and Faye Vaughn cried out in pain as soon as he squeezed. "You're going to crush me!"
