Page 24 of Polly

“Congrats again,” she whispered.

“Thanks.” He showed her the impressive plaque. “Song of the Year” blazed in big, bold letters across the award and a metal plate printed the band name underneath.

“Pretty sweet,” she said.

“Definitely. This is going on the wall in my studio. I’m fucking proud because I wrote that song. I never expected it to get Song of the Year.” Flynn grinned then held the award toward her. “Can you stick this in your purse for me?”

“Sure.”

Polly tucked Flynn’s award carefully into her purse.

They finished watching the ceremony and clapped along when needed. After the last award went out and the audience started dispersing, Miguel stood and turned to the band.

“I have tickets to an exclusive after-party for you guys. I expect all of you to attend.”

“Can’t. Polly and I have plans,” Flynn said.

Miguel frowned. “You won a big award, now is the time to network.”

“We can’t. Sorry. See ya.” Flynn flashed him a smirk that looked less-than-sorry.

Flynn stood from his seat, grabbed Polly’s hand, and ran. He pulled her with him. Polly heard Miguel shout Flynn’s name. They dodged people in the aisle, ran around other attendees, and exited the building quickly through a side door. They avoided the press and slipped out unnoticed.

Outside on the sidewalk, Flynn entwined her fingers in his. He laughed and pulled his phone from his pocket with his other hand.

“Well, that was a rush,” Flynn said.

“Yeah. Miguel will be pissed,” Polly said.

“I don’t care. I refuse to spend tonight at an after-party. I rarely get to see you. I want to do something else,” he said.

Polly laughed. “Whatever you say, Master Flynn.”

They continued walking. When they were a block away from the auditorium, Flynn led her to sit on a bench, then used his app to order an Uber for them. Once the Uber order was complete, he shoved his phone into his pocket.

“It’s freezing,” Polly commented about the cool night. Goosebumps raised on her arms.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have a jacket. Come here.”

Flynn put his arm over the back of the bench and wrapped it around her shoulders as they sat in the cool night air. They watched the traffic pass by on the night-time city street.

She relaxed and settled into his side. He wrapped his arm tighter and pulled her close. Wrapped in a warm Flynn cocoon, she sighed contently, rested her head on his shoulder, and enjoyed being with him like this. His warm coffee scent filled her senses.

Flynn felt like comfort to her, and she wanted to enjoy that as much as possible. They’d have to separate in a few days and she probably wouldn’t see him until Boston. They both traveled so much with work.

Her heart beat a little faster when she thought about what it would be like to belong to Flynn, to be this close to him whenever she wanted for no reason, but she quickly shoved that thought away. Friends. She couldn’t risk losing what they had, especially if he didn’t feel the same.

“What do you want to do tonight?” he asked. He squeezed her shoulder.

“Whatever you want. I don’t have a preference.”

Flynn was quiet for a minute. They waited on the bench and simply listened to the quiet sounds around them: the wind rustling, the engines and tires on nearby roads, the distant laughter.

He rested his chin on her head.

“I owe you a night of getting shitfaced. Want to close out a bar?” he asked.

“You want to stay out all night drinking?”

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