Page 2 of Polly

Polly flopped out of bed and walked to the coffee pot to get their coffee ready. She poured the coffee into disposable cups, adding a ton of cream and sugar to hers but leaving his black. She carried the cups to the table and set them down by their plates.

She pulled the cover off her plate as she sat down. Eggs, bacon, and pancakes. Flynn grinned when her eyes lit up.

Flynn sat in his chair and removed the cover from his own plate, his tattooed arms flexing as he did. He inhaled the scent of eggs and bacon. Amazing.

Polly picked up one of the syrup bottles and opened it. She spread the maple liquid all over her food. Then she lifted her fork and dug into the eggs. She chewed, then moaned as the flavor hit her tongue.

Flynn smiled. His fans considered him a badass asshole with no heart. His public image. But he definitely had a heart, and it had a soft spot for this woman. He considered her one of his dearest friends, even if they didn’t see each other in person often enough, and he would do anything for her. Only Polly got to see his soft side.

“Thanks for ordering breakfast. This is great,” she said.

“You betcha.” He sipped his coffee.

“I want to visit Boston with you when we get there,” she said.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Nowhere in particular. Can you work on an itinerary for us?”

“Me?” he asked, surprised. “I don’t know how good I’d be at that. I don’t do much of the planning.”

“Me either. You make an itinerary and I’ll make one, then we’ll merge them when we get to Boston. Hit all the best highlights. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“How long will you be there?”

“Two days.”

“Okay, I’ll give it a shot.”

“That’s all I ask. Thank you.”

Flynn nodded. “Don’t forget to take some cool pictures and send them to me before Boston. I want to see the east coast through your camera.” Besides kicking ass on guitar, Polly took photos for fun — and Flynn loved them. He often told her she should photograph professionally.

Polly laughed. “Yes, sir.”

Flynn hissed. “Eww. No. Don’t call me sir. If you insist on using a title, ‘Master’ is acceptable.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

She laughed for almost a minute, holding her stomach because she laughed so hard.

Flynn chuckled.

She said with a formal British accent, “Thank you for the laugh, Master Flynn. I most enjoyed it.”

Flynn groaned and pressed a hand over his eyes. “Oh, God. I’ve created a monster.”

“Oh dear, Master Flynn. Is there something the matter?”

Polly continued the rest of breakfast with a fake accent.

They finished the food and sat at the table for a while, talking back and forth in fake accents. Soon, Polly’s phone chimed on the nightstand.

She crossed the room to grab it. She silently viewed the text on the screen.

She said, “It’s a ‘get back to the bus’ text from my tour manager, Greg. I should probably head out.”

“Yeah, I need to head to my people, too. I expect the ‘where are you’ texts to start anytime now.”

Polly grinned and pretend-curtsied. She continued with the fake accent. “Many thanks, Master Flynn. I much appreciated the pizza, beer, and movie night. I shall see thee in Boston.”

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