Work Text:
"Your arm is mint" Bruce praised, and Finney felt his heart flutter in his chest. "You almost had me"
"Good game" Finney replied with a nod, swallowing thickly. He hoped his face wasn't red. If it was, Bruce didn't seem to notice.
That was good. People already didn't like him. He didn't need word circulating that he was a faggot for someone on the opposing baseball team as well.
Still, he couldn't get Bruce out of his mind for the rest of that day.
Your arm is mint, the words echoed in his head. Bruce had complimented him.
God, I'm a mess...
