Chapter Fifteen
He was in the lobby, waiting, when I came downstairs.
Lured out of my room, and of my simmering frustration that wasn’t quite just guilt, by the thought of better coffee than the creaky drip machine could provide.
Trying to remember where I’d seen a place that wasn’t just another chain, and in the process almost walking past Flynn sitting on one of the chairs in reception.
“What are you doing here?”
The look he gave me suggested that was a stupid question. All things considered, it probably was.
“How did you know I’d be staying here again?”
Flynn made a face. “Just a guess. You always liked things to be familiar.”
My turn to grimace. “When I was a little kid, sure.”
He glanced around the lobby, pointedly.
“Fine, whatever,” I snapped, more sullen than I really wanted to be. “What do you want?”
“We need to talk, Oli.”
I bit back my sigh. One of the reasons hooking up in the city was preferable, for all its accompanying inconveniences, was that it minimized the number of times you’d have to hear “We need to talk.”
“Fine. But coffee, first.”
We walked in silence, down the block and then turning.
The cafe the sort of place you could imagine doing brisk business on a weekday morning, city folk detouring through to pick up their energy boost to kick-start the day.
On Sunday, it seemed, the clientele segued to dog walkers.
A row of silver bowls filled with water arrayed outside, being investigated by a golden retriever whose owner sipped from a takeout cup on the matching line of stools.
I could feel Flynn’s tension as he waited alongside me at the counter. An antsy, bubbling sort of shimmering energy, like the steam from the espresso machine.
He didn’t speak, though, until we were walking again. Drinks in hand; an almond bar - supposedly locally-made - wrapped in wax paper and stuffed carefully into my coat pocket.
We made it two blocks before my decision to simply wait him out expired.
“So?”
Flynn didn’t look at me, just kept stomping. “You were out of line last night.”
I sipped my Americano and waited. Figuring more would come, if I just left the space for it.
“You shouldn’t have... you weren’t supposed to...” His voice trailed off, frustration clear in his tone.
“You’re going to have to finish a sentence at some point, if you want me to respond to it,” I said, mildly.
Flynn twisted, suddenly. In front of me, so fast I tottered slightly; trying desperately to regain my balance and avoid slopping scalding coffee across my hand. As though his outstretched finger was something sharper, something far more deadly.
“You fucking know what I’m talking about, Oli!” It came out as a furious hiss. “You were out of line, with what you... did!”
I grit my teeth and forced down the matching ire I could feel building in my chest. “You didn’t like how I finished.”
He glowered at me. “That wasn’t part of the agreement.”
Shaking my head, I looked down at his still-pointing finger. Waited, until he grudgingly pulled his hand away.
“You and William have an agreement. Not me.”
Flynn’s scowl was almost impressive. “You knew what the game was, Oli, don’t play naive.”
“And you creamed your pants when I jerked off across your face.” I snorted, relishing the crass, blunt words and how much they felt like fists. “So, let’s not throw around ‘naive’ like there’s any shortage of self-deception here, okay?”
I pushed past him before Flynn could answer, continuing down the block toward the park I could see one street over. After a moment, I heard his steps as he caught me up.
My stomach clenched as I waited for his response. Only nothing came. Just that sense of barely-restrained anger alongside me.
I sat on a bench beneath skeletal trees, and waited.
“I thought I’d explained... everything,” Flynn said, eventually. “After the last time.”
“I think ‘explained everything’ is an overstatement,” I pointed out. “And if there were rules I was meant to be abiding by, you guys should’ve told me in the first place.”
A beat, and then he nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”
Something about his quick acquiescence deflated me. Enough, anyway, for the cold trickles of guilt to slip in.
“But I’m sorry, if... if that wasn’t what you wanted.” I twisted the paper cup in my hands, left to right. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for the cucking lifestyle.”
Flynn chuckled, softly. “You seemed to rise admirably to the challenge, for the most part.”
I allowed myself the smallest of smirks. “If you’re referring to my cock...”
“Oli,” he scolded, sounding amused. “I mean, it’s a pretty nice cock, I guess.”
“Hey!” I nudged him with my elbow, feeling myself blush.
Flynn laughed, sitting back. “Was I meant to say ‘beautiful’ or ‘magnificent’ instead?”
I buried my scowl in my coffee. “It’s unseemly to discuss a guy’s genitals before breakfast.”
He generously didn’t point out that I’d brought the topic up first. Just took a sip of his own drink, looking out over the frost-rimed shrubs.
“I could taste you, through the mask,” he said, finally. Tone casual, like we were discussing the beans that we’d just watched being finely ground. “That’s what made me... y’know.”
“Cum in your pants, like a horny teenager?” I supplied, my heart racing.
“You have such a way with words.”
“At least I have good aim.”
Trying to choke down his laugh turned it into an ugly snort. “Christ, Oli.”
I shrugged. “I’m not trying to be dismissive of your whole ‘control’ thing, I’m just saying it seemed like you enjoyed it.”
He gestured with his cup. “Enjoyment isn’t the issue.”
I looked at him; at the side of his face, anyway. Waiting until he grudgingly turned to meet my stare.
“Can’t it be the issue?”
Flynn took a deep breath. Let it out, slowly. “It’s not so simple. I thought you understood that.”
“Because you have an agreement with William,” I supplied. “And debt, and regrets.”
His eyes narrowed. Not quite a glare, but the shade of one. “Saying it sarcastically doesn’t make it any less real, Oli. What he and I have, works. For where I’m at right now, anyway.”
In for a penny, some voice in the depths of my brain suggested.
“You know he sleeps with other guys, right?”
“I’m in the room when he does it.”
I shook my head. “Not every time.”
Silence. As brittle as the branches above our heads.
“It’s beneath you, this...”
“No, what was beneath me was your boyfriend,” I said, quickly. Angry, suddenly, at his eagerness to ignore me; to dismiss me, as though I was some gossip trading in second-hand rumor. “And he asked if I wanted to do that again, only without you in the room.”
“You misunderstood.”
I should’ve given William my number, I thought, amid the simmering frustration. That way I could at least produce the inevitable messages, the propositions: make Flynn read them, each incontrovertible bubble of deception, on my phone’s screen.
Instead, I was stuck asking him to believe me, an old friend turned almost stranger, over the guy he lived with. I had a horrible sense that I already knew how that would all play out.
“I don’t think I did. Misunderstand, I mean.” I drained the last of my coffee, barely tasting it before swallowing. “But I don’t think you want to believe me, either, so what’s the point in arguing about it.”
“I just...”
“No!” It came out louder than I meant it to, so much louder.
Fueled by anger, and resentment, and - in about equal measure - unspeakable rage at myself, for foolishly getting involved in someone else’s relationship.
Flynn might be intentionally myopic, yes, but I knew the risks and I still waded in regardless.
“I’m not doing this with you, okay?” I forced my voice down, scrabbling for control where best I could find it. “Believe what you want to believe; ignore what you want to ignore. But don’t try to convince me of the same thing, just because it’ll make you feel better about it.”
There was a trash can to the side of the bench. I tossed my empty cup in there, and stood.
Flynn grabbed the hem of my coat. “Oli, wait.”
I looked down at him. Telling myself his pale face was because of the morning’s chill. “Why?”
His jaw was clenched tight. Muscles flinching with the effort of unlocking it. “You can’t just leave.”
I laughed; it had a sharp edge to it, a haze of something almost close to hysterical disbelief. “I don’t live here, Flynn. So, I’m going home.”
He didn’t release my coat. “We need to talk about this.”
Carefully, I brushed his hand away. Took a step back. “We don’t. We already talked; you decided what you prefer to believe. And that’s fine, Flynn, it truly is.”
“I don’t like that this is how it’s ending.”
“We have a track record of things finishing between us.” I made no attempt to hide the sadness in my smile. “It was good to see you again, Flynn.”
There were words which would make me sit down again, I knew it. I just didn’t know what they were.
Apparently Flynn didn’t either.
“Drive safe, okay?” he said, instead.
I nodded, because there wasn’t much else I could do, and then I turned and walked back to the hotel.