Chapter Nineteen
With hindsight, I should’ve insisted on using the bathroom first. For one, there were the usual post-bottoming sensations - which it’d been so long since I’d last been fucked, I’d forgotten quite how that felt - but also, stickier and more rapidly cooling, the fact that my midriff was a mess.
By the time Flynn emerged, I’d gone past the uncomfortable, tickling, trickling sensation, and decided to embrace the chaos. He could throw his damn sheets in the laundry.
“You look like you need a shower,” he said, eyeing me up and down.
I flashed him an unimpressed look. “Very hospitable of you.”
Flynn laughed. “Are you always this grumpy after sex?”
I opened my mouth to snap something back at him. Ready to lean into this sparring, bickering dynamic; one which was already starting to feel familiar from our earlier conversions. Only I was realizing I didn’t really want that any more, even if it felt easy.
“The sex was good,” I told him, plainly, then gestured between my spread thighs. “But this isn’t.”
He eyed me with an expression that could only be described as lascivious. “I dunno, it all looks good to me.”
I pushed myself upright, chuckling. “What happened to self-control?”
“Would you rather fuck William again,” he suggested, “and I just watch?”
Something about the tilt of his smile made me wonder just how much of a joke that question was.
“Absolutely not,” I told him, picking honesty again.
Flynn nodded, slowly. “Probably for the best. I think that ship has sailed, now.”
My wince was instinctive. “I’m sorry. About your relationship, I mean.” It felt fairly ridiculous to say, given we’d just had sex together, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t commiserate with him over something important ending.
He sighed. “It’s weird, how you can regret something being over, even though you also know it was bad for you.”
“Life can be messy that way,” I agreed. “And, though I don’t want to be the one ruining a moment, I’m kinda messy myself right now, too. So...”
Flynn laughed, standing aside. “Sorry. Be my guest.”
He slapped me on the ass as I hurried past him.
#
I followed the sound of broken glass to the kitchen. Feeling a whole lot less sticky, even if I’d pulled my clothes back on before I was entirely dry again.
Flynn was wearing sandals, sweatpants, and a white sleeveless shirt, nosing the edge of a nylon-bristled broom under the breakfast bar. A sizable heap of shattered wine glasses, plates, and other kitchenware had already been gathered in the middle of the floor.
“If you were hoping for a drink that wasn’t consumed straight out of the bottle,” he said, glancing up, “you may be out of luck.”
He was smiling, but it looked as brittle as the shards he was sweeping.
“Are you okay?”
A frown, at my question. And then he sighed. “I guess it’s sinking in, finally.”
I nodded slowly. “It probably takes a while.”
Flynn looked up, leaning on the handle of the brush. “Have your relationships been so hard to get over?”
Laughing felt out of place; I stopped, when I saw his frown. “That would require a relationship in the first place, remember.”
I wasn’t sure if his sheepish look was genuine, or feigned for my benefit. There was no damn way I was going to ask.
“I know you said you’d never dated, but there must’ve been someone...”
I shrugged. “Back there?”
His pinched expression said he understood.
I crouched down, with the dustpan. Waited for Flynn to fill it with detritus, then dumped it in the trash can.
“What do you think your parents would say? If they knew, I mean.”
It wasn’t like I hadn’t wondered the same thing. “I’d like to think they’d be okay with it.”
Flynn made a face. “There’s a difference between what we’d like to think, and what we actually think would happen.”
I stood, brushing my hands down my jeans. “Yeah, I know.”
He sighed. “I think mine would be disappointed.”
“Have you not given them enough to be proud of already?”
I’d been so careful to keep any trace of resentment out of my tone. Even so, Flynn gave me a pointed glance.
“That particular beast is insatiable, I think.”
It was funny, thinking of his parents’ endless boasting from Flynn’s point of view.
I’d always assumed he was as cocky, as much a braggart, as they were.
That he’d see their crowing as his rightful due.
Suddenly though, it didn’t so much seem like pride that they had for him, as excruciatingly high expectations.
“Maybe you’ll meet ‘the one’ and simply have to tell them everything,” I suggested.
Flynn gestured with the broom. “I think I’m pretty far from that, don’t you?”
That was something I didn’t feel qualified - or safe - to answer.
“Take me for lunch,” I told him, instead.
He grinned as he set the broom back in a cupboard.
“It wouldn’t be a proper Oli visit, if I didn’t get to see your incredible appetite at work.
” He reached for his phone on the counter; checked, briefly, the screen before shoving it into his pocket.
The angle hadn’t been ideal, and the glass was still fractured, but I’d seen enough to know that there were no messages or other notifications waiting there.
I wondered to myself whether he was disappointed or relieved not to have heard from William.
“What do you want to eat?”
I waved him away, into the hallway. “Surprise me.”
“A dangerous invitation,” Flynn teased, leaning down to pull on his shoes.
“Surprise me, with pants on,” I clarified. “Pervert.”
He reached out, to grab my arm as I went to walk out the door. “Just remember our deal, okay?”
I nodded, as he winked and slipped out ahead of me.