Chapter Ten #2
“I forgot. You whisked me out the door, and I just … I don’t know, turned my brain off.”
He hums in response and leans around me to unlock the door, pushing it open for me to walk through first.
I sit on the bench and toe off my shoes, throwing them onto the pile that sits by the door. Most are Flynn’s, but mine are slowly starting to join them. I’m starting to pick up his habit of taking my shoes off as soon as I come through the door.
I hear him tut as I walk down the hallway, and I glance over my shoulder. Flynn is bent down, neatly lining up the shoes I just took off next to the other pairs. I smile and head for the kitchen.
“Do you want another drink?” I call out to him.
“Are you having another?”
“Yeah.” I pull out two beers, but only crack one of them open. “I got called in for a sub day tomorrow, but why the hell not?”
Flynn makes it down the hall, hand ruffling through his hair. “Why not? I’m already halfway drunk, may as well finish off the job.”
“That’s the spirit,” I say, popping the lid on the beer and holding it up to him.
He leans over the kitchen island and takes it from my hand.
Bringing it to his lips. I’m mesmerized by the way his throat works as he takes a sip.
I take a sip of my own, trying to use the alcohol to soothe the newly ignited flames in my veins.
It could be the alcohol talking, but staring at him drinking a beer, completely relaxed in his own home, is probably the hottest thing I’ve seen him do.
He’s removed the flannel he wore today, and the T-shirt underneath stretches tightly over his muscles.
When he slowly lowers the bottle, catching my eye, I feel myself go bright red. Damn it.
I head for the couch, planning to bury myself in the corner of it and wait for the embarrassment of being caught staring at him so intensely to fade. But, of course, Flynn follows me.
“So, what did Ivy decide?”
“About?”
“The date. For the wedding.” He takes the seat across from me, in the other corner of the large C-sectional lounge.
“Oh. February. After the season is over.”
He nods, taking another swig of his beer. “Good for them.”
Silence fills the air, and I feel like I can taste my nerves.
The last time I was drunk and in Flynn Reed’s presence, I ended up in his bed.
It was the best night of my life, but I suppress the memories.
I only ever let myself think about that night if I’m desperate and need a release.
Otherwise, they are on lockdown. I don’t want to see him that way.
He’s my roommate. My friend’s friend. My fake boyfriend.
Our relationship is practically a business deal, an exchange of goods. If I think about that night, especially when I’m drunk and have the loosest lips on earth, I will say something stupid.
“Do you ever want to get married?” Yep. Stupid things like that. I resist the urge to smack a hand against my mouth. I need to work on my drunk filter. Badly.
“Yeah. One day,” he replies. He eyes me closely, and I can feel his gaze on me. It heats up my skin.
“You’ll do the big, white wedding? With all the guests and the planning, and the strippers at bachelor parties?” I try to joke.
“I guess it depends on who my wife will be. But, yeah, if it were up to me, I think I would.” He rests the bottle on his thigh, twirling it between his fingers.
“I like the idea of standing up in front of all of my closest friends and extended family to declare my love for a person. I’d want them to know. I’d be proud of it.”
I hum, thinking about Grant again. My phone has been oddly silent since the night after the Halloween game a few weeks ago.
He called me non-stop until about two in the morning, but I’ve heard nothing since.
When we were together, he never talked about our future.
Not until the very end, when he threw it in my face like it was nothing.
“My parents had a big wedding. My mom still talks about it.” I smile fondly. “Even though she had me and my brother, I think it was the best day of her life.”
“I keep forgetting you have a sibling.”
“He’s a lot younger than me. He … he actually wants to be a football player.” I glance up at Flynn, momentarily meeting his gaze before looking back at my lap.
“What does your family think about our relationship? Or, do they know it’s fake?”
“I haven’t really … told them yet.” I cringe.
“You haven’t? They wouldn’t see it on social media and think it’s weird you’ve not said anything?”
“My mom and I, while I love her, we don’t always see eye to eye. She thinks I can’t make a decision and that I’m wasting my life by working at the bar instead of being a full-time teacher. My dad just stays silent to avoid the argument. They … they focus on Sammy. It’s easier.”
“That sucks.”
I look up and see him watching me again. God, this man. It’s like he never looks away. “Why?”
“Because your parents should care what you’re up to. No matter how old you are.”
“Do yours? Care about what you’re up to, I mean?”
“Yes, and no.” He takes another swig from the almost empty beer bottle, but he never takes his eyes off my face.
“My dad is my biggest fan. He loves that I play pro-ball and he calls me all the time after a game to discuss it play by play. He wasn’t very athletic, so I think he enjoys being able to live through me a little.
He’s a good man. A little selfish, and I recognize that he probably pushed me into football for the wrong reasons, but I love him. ”
“And your mom?”
“She’s … harder.”
“Are they still together?”
“Yes.” His words are clipped short. Harsh. “They shouldn’t be.”
“What do you mean?”
“They should get a divorce. They should have gotten one years ago. God knows why they stay together, but they hate each other. I think … I think my mom knows that I have a better relationship with my dad and she thinks, in some twisted way, that if they split up, I’ll take his side.”
“Would you?”
Flynn hesitates, his fingers tapping against the bottle. “I don’t know.”
Silence fills the air between us, and it becomes thick and hard to breathe. I shift in my seat, edging out of the corner and closer to Flynn, just a little. I don’t say anything else. I can tell that he hasn’t finished. I’m patient enough to wait.
“She’s cheated on him. A bunch of times.”
My heart sinks. Fuck.
“I caught her when I was eighteen. I was about to leave for college, and I dropped by her work. I was going to take her to lunch as a final goodbye. School was only two hours away, but something in me told me that I wasn’t really ever going to come back.
” He leans over and places the now empty bottle on the coffee table.
I do the same. When I sit back into the couch cushions, I’m even closer to him as he talks.
“She’s a personal assistant for some hotshot CEO.
I walked into their office, expecting to find her at her desk.
Instead, she’s on top of it and her boss is fucking her. ”
“Shit.”
“She freaked out. Begged me not to tell my dad.” He runs a hand through his hair, tugging a little on the strands. I want to lean over and take it in mine. I have the overwhelming urge to crawl into his lap and wrap my arms around him. But I don’t.
“Did you?” I ask in a quiet voice.
“No. Never.” He shakes his head. “I think he knows. He has to. The affair didn’t end.”
“I don’t get it. If he knows, why not leave her?”
“No idea. It’s toxic as fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m terrified I’ll turn out like her,” he says. I look up, my eyes widening. How can he even think that?
“Have you … have you ever cheated?” I think back to the girl in the bathroom, bragging about getting his number. Did he fuck her, too? It wouldn’t be cheating. We weren’t together. It would’ve been gross on his part, but it wouldn’t have been cheating.
“No. Never.” His words are strong, definitive. Believable.
“Well then, there you go. You aren’t your mom.” I pat his leg gently and smile. “You can’t be anyway. You’re far too much of a Golden Retriever for cheating.”
“Golden Retriever?”
“Yeah. Like you have Golden Retriever energy.” I nod like I am making perfect sense.
“What does that even mean?” He laughs, leaning forward.
“It means you have this hyper energetic, lovable, loyal vibe going on. Ivy said it’s what all the guys on the internet want to be.”
“Guys want to be compared to Golden Retrievers?”
“It’s the newest trend.” He is closer now, but he’s also smiling. Thank god. My heart couldn’t take the serious, upset expression for too much longer.
“Kids are weird.”
“Tell me about it.” I turn to him, and somehow we’ve gotten even closer. We’re inches apart now. We’ve crept so close to one another, and I didn’t even notice. “Do you think you’ll have kids one day?”
His eyes shine with something close to excitement. “I hope so. I would love to have kids.”
“Even though they’re weird?”
“Yeah, even then.” He edges closer, and I don’t pull back. “I think I’d be a cool dad. I’m fun.”
I nod gently, agreeing. “You are.”
“What about you?” he asks. His warm hand slides over my knee, and I glance at it. His fingers are spread over my thigh. It’s so large, it takes up half it.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“What about me?” I whisper.
“Do you want to have kids?”
“I don’t even know what I want for breakfast tomorrow.” This makes Flynn laugh. I sigh. “Maybe. One day.”
“One day?”
“Yeah. If I’m with the right person.” Flynn looks deep in thought, but he never takes his eyes off me.
“Who’s the right person?” he asks. I shake my head a little and shrug. “Katie …”
My breath hitches. My eyes move down to his lips, and I swallow hard.
“I think …” I lick my lips, trying to think clearly. “I think we should go to bed.”
“Is that what you want?” he asks in a quiet voice.
I don’t answer. I can’t answer. I’m torn in half. Part of me knows this is a bad idea, that I set ground rules, and I should keep them. But the other half, the one that’s horny and remembers what it feels like to have Flynn Reed’s mouth on mine in great detail, begs me to just lean forward.
I shake my head, the tiniest bit, and he takes it as an invitation. His lips meet mine, and I sink into him. He tastes just as good as he did months ago.