That One Time a Serial Killer Crashed My Date
Hazel
The coffee shop door dings as I open it and I get in a fight with the damn puffer jacket as I take it off.
I’m mad at myself for putting it back on when I left the office.
It’s not like Flynn could see me at work.
I could have left it off, but I didn’t. And part of me knows it’s because I knew he wouldn’t want me to, and isn’t that just all kinds of messed up?
I’m on a mission to forget the other night with Flynn ever happened. So far, I’m failing miserably but I refuse to cancel my date with Derek. Maybe getting a coffee with a sane, decent guy will break me out of this habit I have of picking the worst possible men.
Serial killer or Cop: A new dating show coming to ABC this July.
I lock the memory of Flynn’s hand between my thighs away in a solid vault and scan the coffee shop for Derek. He’s not here yet so I pick a table near the back. Shoving my coat over the back of the chair, I take out my phone and send a message to the group chat I have with Wright and Olivia.
Hazel
This was a bad idea.
Wright
Because you’d rather be on a date with a certain serial unaliver?
Olivia
You know you can just say killer on here, right?
Wright
Shh you.
Hazel
For the record, I would not rather be on a date with Flynn.
Wright
Suuure.
Wright
Is Detective Derek late?
Hazel
His name is just Derek. And I’m early.
Olivia
Do you actually like him though?
I read Livi’s message and put my phone on the table. I could like Derek. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s attractive, kind, has a steady job that doesn’t involve strangling people.
“What made you marry Dad, Mom?”
“Oh, well he wasn’t a murderer, sweetie.”
Yep, sounds like a great start to a relationship. I fold my arms on the table and let my head fall against them.
The chair next to me scrapes as it’s pulled out from under the table and I jolt up. “Hey, sorry, I was just…” My excuse trails off when I realize it’s not Derek sitting across from me.
“What are you doing here?” I hiss at Flynn.
“You’re here,” he says simply, like that’s enough of an explanation. He’s in his biker jacket again, which means I find myself once more trying to balance being mad with ignoring just how attracted to him I am. Stupid pheromones.
The bell dings and my gaze darts to the door.
Flynn follows my eyeline then his attention settles on me, heavy and impossible to ignore. “You’re meeting someone.”
“No.” I check my phone.
Flynn’s hand settles over mine. “Did you just lie to me, Lilac?”
I go still, like his palm is icy and not the warm, comforting touch it actually is.
Memories of the last time his hands were on me flood back and I fight the rush of arousal that has my thighs pressing together.
This is bad. I know full well that I should move my hand.
But I don’t. “How do you know I didn’t just get a hankering for coffee on my lunch break? ”
Flynn runs the tip of his finger over the back of my hand. “You don’t like coffee.”
I fight back a shiver and this time I do pull away. “It’s weird that you know that.”
“Who are you meeting, Hazel?”
Screw it, maybe telling him will finally make him back off. I angle myself so I’m facing him front on and cross my arms. “I have a date.”
I brace myself, but the anger I expect, never comes. Flynn just brushes his thumb over his mouth, his eyes twinkling.
Disbelief tugs at my jaw and I’m severely tempted to kick him under the table. “Are you laughing at the idea that I have a date?”
“Not at all.” Amusement plays at his lips. Lips that I am definitely not paying attention to. His gaze shifts to the door as a man with an uncomfortably obvious toupee bundles inside.
“Is it him? Personally, the wig doesn’t do it for me but to each their own.”
Now I do kick him, jabbing the heel of my boot onto his foot. Except that just makes him splay his hand over my thigh, holding it in place in a way that has my core clenching.
“You can’t be here, Flynn,” I say in a harsh whisper. “My date is a cop. I don’t know how nobody has recognized you yet, but he will.”
“Aww, are you worried for me, Lilac?”
“Call it self-preservation.” I doubt finding me sitting next to a wanted felon would go down well with Derek.
“What’s his name?” Flynn lets go of my thigh and leans back against the wooden slats of his chair.
I narrow my gaze at him, the question just a little too casual.
“I’m not yours,” I tell him because for some reason I think I understand how this man’s mind works and he thinks I belong to him.
It’s terrifying and fascinating and when his gaze locks on me it’s so fucking dark it’s like someone switched out the lights.
“Yet,” he says.
My stomach flips. The promise in his eyes should be frightening. It should make me want to run far, far away and it sure as hell shouldn’t make me feel all warm and gooey inside.
Tell us Hazel, why didn’t you turn the Vigilante Choker in to the police? Oh well, you know, all his threats made me feel loved and cared for.
Maybe this is what happens when you lose your parents before you can even talk. Yep, that must be it. Some part of me is so desperate for love that it’s confusing obsession with affection.
I clench my teeth and tear my gaze away from Flynn.
My phone buzzes on the table. Grateful for the distraction, I snatch it up and read the message. It’s from Derek. He’s not coming. Shit.
Flynn narrows his gaze, inspecting me with those powder blue eyes of his. “Please tell me he didn’t just stand you up.”
I cut him a look. “I thought you’d be pleased.”
“I’m not pleased that someone hurt you, Lilac. He may have been taking his own life into his hands by asking you out, but anyone who stands you up deserves to have his balls twisted into a pretzel and choked till they pop.”
“Jesus, Flynn.” I’m not even a guy and that made me feel a little sick. “And it’s not exactly his fault. He got called out. Cop, remember?”
Flynn shakes his head, his voice soft. “That doesn’t make it okay.”
I grimace and twist the cupcake charm on the back of my phone case.
I don’t exactly know what happens now. It’s not like I particularly wanted to go out with Derek in the first place but Flynn’s right, being stood up sucks.
And now I’m sitting in a coffee shop with a friendly serial killer and every logical part of my brain is telling me to get up and leave but my heart isn’t listening.
Flynn’s hand stills my fidgeting and he slips his fingers through mine as he stands up. “Come on.”
I let him pull me up, glancing around the shop to check no-one has recognized him. “What are you doing?”
“If Detective Douche isn’t buying you a drink, then I will.”
“Did you just make a Lucifer reference?”
Flynn smirks but keeps walking up to the counter. It’s not till the barista finishes ringing up the customer in front of us that I realize how bad of an idea this is.
“Wait, no.” I tug at Flynn’s arm, but his hand tightens on mine and it’s like trying to move a rock. My heart beats in my throat because Flynn’s picture is all over the news and there’s no way in hell he won’t be recognized, but he just flashes a smile at the barista.
“Two hot chocolates, please.”
My chest locks, sweat pricking at the back of my neck as the barista taps at her screen.
“Name?”
“Hazel,” I blurt out before Flynn does something stupid like just outright say he’s the Vigilante Choker.
I breathe a little easier once the barista’s taken the payment and Flynn’s dragged me over to the waiting area, but the adrenaline has me hitting my fist against his chest. “Are you insane?” I half whisper half shout.
He just folds his hand around my fist and tugs me closer.
I shudder a little as his breath brushes the shell of my ear. “Relax, Little Lilac. People see what they expect to see. The only thing that’s going to get us caught is you looking like you’re about to have a heart attack.”
Flynn shifts his hand and runs his thumb up and down my inner wrist. I hate that it calms me.
I could still try to leave, but I’m pretty sure Flynn’s not letting go so we stand there together, like a normal couple, and wait for our drinks.
They come in takeaway cups and Flynn frowns. “There’re no marshmallows. Or whipped cream.”
Sometimes I forget Flynn doesn’t know how to be human. “You didn’t ask for any.”
He lifts his hand to get the barista’s attention and I tug it back down. “Dude, seriously, you have to stop drawing attention to us.”
Flynn sighs. “Fine.”
I pick up one of the cups, thinking that’s that, but then Flynn takes the other cup and tugs on my hand again. “Come on.”
“Will you stop dragging me places?” I mutter, stumbling a little as he leads me around the side of the counter to a door marked staff only. My stomach flips. “What are you doing?”
Flynn, of course, ignores me. He glances around the shop, waiting till the barista isn’t looking before letting go of my hand and opening the door.
“No.” I take a step back, but Flynn scoops his arm around my waist and corrals me forward.
“In you go, Lilac.”
I think my heart attack is coming back. Flynn follows me inside and locks the door behind us. I glare at him in the dark. “You can’t just come in here. It’s staff only.”
“So?”
“It’s against the rules!”
I can just make out the outline of Flynn’s body as he runs his hand along the wall. He must find the light switch because the fluorescent bulb above flickers to life. “And what have I ever done to make you think I care about rules?”
Okay, he has a point but still. I care about rules, so I stand there in what is clearly a stock room as Flynn puts his cup down on a shelf and searches through the cooler.
“Aha.” He spins around, flourishing a can of whipped cream.
I blink at him.
He ignores my very loud silence and squirts a ridiculous amount of whipped cream onto my hot chocolate. Then, when I continue to just stare at him, he has the audacity to aim the nozzle at my nose.
I press my hand against his chest. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
He smirks and presses the trigger.