If Finn wasn’t so in shock, he probably would have pinched himself. Was this some sort of dream? Had he passed out during work and was he now dreaming that his idol, the brilliant, smoking hot Ethan Teller was flat on his back, staring up at him? Of course! This couldn’t possibly be real…could it? Slowly lowering himself to his knees, the two men stared at one another: Finn with wide eyed curiosity, and Ethan with the look of a man about to be murdered. Raising his hand, Finn reached forward, Ethan shrinking away in reflex.
Without much warning, Finn poked him square in the forehead. As if that wasn’t enough, he poked him a few more times. As if trying to find the squeaker box in a dog’s chew toy. Finally, Ethan shook him off and swatted his hand away. “Cut it out!”
“Sorry!” Finn held up
