Page 33 of Kissing Flynn

As I get dressed, the world beyond these two bedrooms creeps in through the cracks, and my good mood wanes. What will happen when one of us gets eliminated and has to leave? And worse, what if the other one gets the job?

Not that I’d begrudge Max scoring the gig. Lord knows, she deserves it. But if either of us does win this little competition, we’d be forced apart for weeks. Possibly months.

And even though we’ve known each other for years, this thing between us is brand new. Could it survive an immediate separation? Could Max and I beat the odds and make long distance work?

I’d like to be confident we would, but the odds would definitely be stacked against us.

I head into my bathroom to brush and style my hair, but I just stand there, staring at my reflection as a new thought hits. I’m thinking of our future in terms of us being in a relationship. And as much as I want that to be the case, I can’t just assume Max is on the same page.

She could be thinking of this thing between us as a fun, short-term fling where we’re banging each other out of our systems.

“Fuck,” I mutter, bracing my hands against the counter and letting my head droop.

“Flynn? You ready?”

“Just a minute,” I call back, quickly running a comb through my hair before calling it good.

I stride from the bathroom, then freeze in my tracks the second my eyes land on Max. She’s a vision in an emerald green sundress with her bright red locks flowing over her shoulders and down her back. My palm finds my chest, feeling my heart thump as I take her in.

“You okay?” she asks, a secret smile curving her gorgeous lips.

“I’ve never been better,” I reply, and it’s probably the most honest thing I’ve ever said.

“Grab your shoes. We’ve got to get to breakfast, stat. I’m starving this morning for some reason,” she says, punctuating the words with a saucy wink.

God, I love you.

I don’t say the words aloud, but they echo over and over in my head so loudly, I’m sure she can hear them. And even if she could, I wouldn’t take the words back regardless of how premature they may seem to an outsider.

I was in love with this woman in college. If I hadn’t been, the lies Milo told me wouldn’t have hurt as badly as they did. And even though we’ve been apart for five years, seeing her again was like no time had passed at all. And getting to know her again over the last couple of days just proved I didn’t imagine those feelings I had for her back in the day.

They were real then, and they’re real now.

“Flynn?”

“Oh, sorry,” I say, moving quickly to the closet to grab my shoes and a pair of socks.

I pull them on in a flash, and Max skips toward me to give me a quick kiss before scurrying back to her own room, closing and locking the connecting door behind her. Right. We have to keep up appearances, and if anyone saw us exiting my bedroom together, well, the jig would be up.

I hear her bedroom door close, then wait for a count of ten before leaving my own room. I see her down the hall at the top of the stairs, and she pauses to shoot me another wink before heading down.

Taking a deep breath and blowing it out to calm my racing heart, I slowly head for the stairs. Keeping a professional distance from her is going to be impossible today, but I’ll have to find a way.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?

Twenty-One

Max

I rush down the steps to put a little extra distance between Flynn and me. Acting like a professional peer and nothing more is going to be hard enough, so I need to take whatever advantage I can. I aim to be seated by the time Flynn arrives, and I’ll keep my eyes off him as much as possible so no one will have a chance to catch any stolen glances between us.

It’s bad enough that my mind is already spinning, trying to come up with plausible ways we could sneak off together for some alone time today. One hit, and I was hooked. Two, and I’m completely and irrevocably addicted.

When I walk into the dining room, the other writers are already seated and whispering among themselves. Flynn and Barnard are the only two missing, and the former walks into the room as soon as I’ve taken my seat.

He walks around to his original chair across the table from me, and a quick glance in his direction proves he’s not trying to hide his emotions as he stares at me. I narrow my eyes and give him a stern shake of the head, and he smirks before looking down at his plate.

He’s incorrigible, and damn if that doesn’t turn me on even more than I already am.

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