Page 45 of Dropping Like Flies

“Want one?” he called back.

“No, I’m alright.”

“Want something stronger?”

I laughed. “I thought you were having a night off?”

A muffled groan. “I guess some habits are hard to kick.”

My phone beeped, and I looked down to find a message from Ben. Pizza. There better not be any olives on it.

I’d just typed No olives, I promise, and sent it when Flynn came back from the kitchen clutching a bottle of beer. “I’ll take that as a no to the whiskey then?”

I nodded, my mouth too full of pizza to provide an oral response.

Flynn regaled me with the story of an awkward customer a few nights ago while we ate the rest of the pizza, not seeming to mind the conversation being distinctly one-sided. With his plate empty, he sat back and watched me finish mine. “You never said where you’ve been for the past few days.”

“Manchester,” I said, while wiping my mouth. “For one night at least. I had to see a man about a dog. Although, it was really a professor about a…” I stopped short before I said demon.

“A…?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Whether or not Flynn believed in them, it wasn’t the best topic of discussion. Hearing that an eight-foot demon might descend on the streets of London wouldn’t put anyone’s mind at rest.

Flynn smiled. “Let me guess, it’s confidential.”

“Something like that.”

Flynn cleared his throat, the gleam in his eye too little warning for me to take avoidance measures as he lunged at me. Shit! When his lips came down on mine, I froze, panic seizing hold of me. Ben was going to kill me. We’d been back together a matter of days and already I was giving him good reason to regret letting me back in his life. Even the knowledge that he felt arousal and I was a long way from aroused didn’t make me feel any better.

I was about to push him off when Flynn sat back anyway with a confused look on his face, the kiss only having lasted a matter of seconds. “Huh! I was hoping for a bit more enthusiasm from you. I’d think it was the garlic, but you just ate the same as I did.”

“I…” Grow up, Griffin. You’re in your thirties, not a teenager. “Remember, I said I’d be working with my ex?”

Flynn returned to the other end of the couch and retrieved his beer, taking a long swallow before fixing me with a speculative look. “Yeah. You weren’t looking forward to it. You said it was going to be a nightmare.”

“Yeah, well… it was, and then we sorted things out.”

“You’re back together?”

“Yeah.” My throat was tight as I waited to see how Flynn would react to the news. I wished I’d said yes to a beer because at least it would have given me something to do. What would it be? Anger? Disappointment? Jealousy? Irritation? They were all possible.

What I wasn’t expecting was the smile that lit up Flynn’s face. “Congratulations! I’m assuming you’re happy about it?”

“I am. You’re not pissed?”

Flynn laughed, almost choking on his beer. “Why on earth would I be pissed? I mean, I’m annoyed you didn’t mention it in a text or something. If you had, we could have skipped the embarrassing part where I just jumped on you and you sat there like a statue. I haven’t experienced that since high school when I read the signals all wrong and tried to kiss Jack Fletcher, who, just for the record, not only wasn’t gay, but had a girlfriend, too.” He rolled his eyes. “He kicked up so much fuss you would have thought I’d tried to rape him rather than just give him a peck on the lips.” Flynn pointed the beer bottle in my direction. “So if you could refrain from telling all and sundry that I tried to force myself on you, I’d appreciate it.”

“I think I can manage that.” I was still somewhat stunned he was taking it so well.

Flynn tipped his head to one side. “Don’t look at me like that. You really aren’t very good at fuck buddies, are you? Rules are that we’re just having fun until something better comes along. It did, and you’ve moved on. It’s no biggie, and I’m happy for you.” He lay his head back on the couch. “So… tell me about this man of yours. He’s a detective, right? Is he handsome?”

“Yes. And very.”

“Got any photos?”

It stung when I realized that I didn’t, that I’d gotten rid of any I used to have because it hurt too much to look at them. In a last gasp attempt to show something before Flynn thought Ben was nothing more than a figment of my imagination, I logged onto my laptop and googled Ben’s name, a news report coming up from a high-profile case he’d been involved in the previous year. Flynn took the laptop off me and studied the photo like there was going to be a test later. “Definitely handsome,” he eventually said. “You’ve done well there.” He skimmed the news report. “Bit of a hot-shot detective by the sounds of it as well. Does that mean I can stop worrying when I go out?” He grimaced. “I met this really cute guy the other night. Things developed. You know, as they do.”

I did my best not to feel slightly put out about Flynn hooking up with someone else. I really hadn’t understood the rules of being a fuck buddy. I’d thought there was some element of exclusivity to the arrangement, but obviously I’d been wrong.

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