𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐎'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕

I DIDN'T KNOW if it was just indigestion or what but I had a feeling in my gut, one that I was sure was acting up because of my conscience as a coveted expert matchmaker. 

Though the other option could be that old can of spam I ate the other day...

You know what? I'm going to go with that first option. 

Renzo Culpepper, expert matchmaker. It has a certain ring to it, don't you think? 

... No?

Pfft, okay. Be like that, then. Anyways. 

I sat in the train that was hurtling towards Lorentown. I watched my best friend and brother-from-another-mother, alias Finn, sit in the seat opposite of mine, looking thoroughly glum. 

That's such a funny word, though, isn't it? Glum. GLUM.  gLuM. 

I'll stop now. 

I stopped thinking about the syntax of the word 'glum' and instead focused back onto the issue at hand. Finn's normally jovial face now looked slightly dull. Instead of chattering on about something thoughtfully random— like whether ducks ever have identity crises because they walk, swim, and fly —he sat there, looking out the window as if someone was standing out there with a board that said 'stare at this' as we hurtled past. 

And just to make sure no one really was standing out there, I quickly peeked a look out the window. Obviously, no one was there. I sat back in my seat with a confused look at Finn.

I experimentally offered him my bag of chips, and when he refused it, barely even glancing at it, that's when I knew something was wrong.

Because potato chips. Come on.

I carefully put the chip bag away, dusted away anything on my fingers, and then turned to Finn solemnly. 

"Alright, Finneas, my guy," I sighed, steepling my fingers seriously. "Tell your buddy Renzo what's wrong."

(If I had glasses, this is the part where they would be perched lower on my nose so I could look over the rim with an analytical stare.)

Finn glanced up at me, and then looked away defensively, frowning. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong."

I sadly shook my head. "I offered you a potato chip. A freaking potato chip, and you said no. This experiment proves my hypothesis that indeed, something is very much wrong."

(If I had glasses, this is the part I would have gravely taken them off for a moment of silence for that neglected potato chip.)

Finn shook his head lightly, still staring out the window but his face showing slight traces of amusement. "Hypothesis, hmm?

And then I casually said, "Yeah, dude. You know, I think Cora's ways have rubbed off on me."

And yes, that was the magic word, it seemed, because as soon as he heard her name, his expression changed abruptly.

Finn's brows knitted together at first, as if he was deep in thought, before his eyes widened slightly like Thomas Edison or someone had turned the first light bulb on inside Finn's brain. But in all seriousness, there was a mix of surprise with a soft realization on my friend's face, and his lips parted just a bit like he was about to say something but didn't know what or how. Finn, usually so laid-back and full of risqué jokes or random bouts of sarcasm, suddenly looked lost, and then confused. Finally, a silly smile slowly broke out on his face. But he still didn't say anything.

"I miss her," I added helpfully. 

Finn gave a short laugh that was tinged with disbelief. "Me too," he said, sounding slightly hesitant. 

But I was not hesitant, for who was I? Renzo Culpepper, expert matchmaker. Have you forgotten already?

 Fine, I'll forgive you this one time. But just this once.

Anyway. Who was I again? Ah, yes, Renzo Culpepper, expert matchmaker. And so, I was not hesitant at all as I watched my best friend struggle with his treacherous heart that clearly belonged to someone else now. 

"You like her," I deadpanned. 

And that seemed to startle something in him because a tell-tale heat spread to his ears and neck. The little fit of woe he was in seemed to be gone because the normal Finn was back, and he tried to play it cool. "I like her? Who?" he tried to say innocently. 

"Save it, buddy," I rolled my eyes, grabbing the bag of chips again. "You know who." I pulled one out, munching on it thoughtfully. I reached in again, only to discover the bag empty. And so I crumpled the bag, making a motion like I was about to toss it out the window, when Finn's hand absently shot out to stop me. 

"The squirrels are going to stage a protest and call the Environmental Protection Agency on us, dude," he said, almost to himself, and then froze. 

I froze too, jaw dropping. Finn pulled his hand back in slow motion, and he stared at me with wide eyes.

"Finneas, my guy," I said slowly, a loud laugh making its way up my throat. "That sounded exactly like Cora."

"I really don't think she has that deep of a voice, but okay, then?" 

I shot the crumpled bag at his forehead. "Stop deflecting, dude. I meant the words, obviously. And I thought her ways had really rubbed off on me, but look at what we have here!" 

"Renzo."

"Don't Renzo me, young man. I know the symptoms of crush-itis when I see it."

"Crush-itis? Where's the proof, dude? We need the evidence—" he started, and then stopped abruptly again, giving me that wide-eyed look once more. 

"Whoa," I grinned, practically hooting in delight. "She's got you like that, huh?"

Finn groaned and buried his head in his hands, looking distressed. 

Ah, but how I was enjoying this. If only I had some popcorn with me...

While Finn continued to sit like that, mumbling into his hands, something about 'stupid plants' and 'stupid owls' and 'stupid gardening fantasies' (what?!), I sat back in expert matchmaker mode once again, thinking. 

During the train ride to Bayport, Cora had looked kind of sad after we realized that we were all going in separate ways. I mean, we were all sad, but the way she looked at Finn, like she'd just realized she was secretly fluent in dolphin or something equally surprising, hadn't gone lost on me. 

What I'd also noticed was their interaction when we were all saying goodbye. After the two criminals in question had finished hugging each other, Finn had said something to her cheekily, and Cora had blushed tearily, looking like she wanted to slap him and kiss him at the same time. 

Ah, young love. 

As I watched Finn wring himself inside out over his oh-so-obvious feelings, I wondered if this was a classic case of 'she fell first, he fell harder'. When I noticed Finn staring at the crumpled chip bag as if it would make Cora appear before us, I grinned, realizing that yes, I was right. 

Speaking of young love... My phone buzzed with two messages from Yumi, and I clicked on it, seeing that she'd sent a Taylor Swift edit and then a recipe for making the perfect mochi donuts ever. I sighed happily. 

Ah, young love... !

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A/N: idk I just loved writing this chapter 😆🤗❤️

P.S. I hope you liked it too ;) <3