Page 57 of Flipping His Script
Chapter 23
Anna
The moment we walked in, a sudden hush descended on the restaurant.
Everyone–and I meaneveryone– turned to stare. Customers, waitresses, busboys, you name it – whatever they'd been doing earlier, they weren't doing it anymore.
From just inside the front entrance, I stared stupidly back, wondering how celebrities normally acted in situations like this.Did they smile? Wave? Pretend it wasn't happening?
Yes, I realized that I was no celebrity and no one was staring atme.Still, that didn't make it any less awkward when a lone female voice shattered the silence by whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, "Oh, my God. It's him."
Yes. It was.
I gave Flynn a sideways glance. Apparently, he fell into the "pretend it's not happening" camp. Either that, or he was truly oblivious to all the attention. But hecouldn’tbe. That simply wasn't possible.Was it?
In front of us, the place was absolutely packed.No surprise there.Saturdays were a big day at Pinkie's, even in the early afternoon.No surprise there either.I mean, who doesn't love a big weekend breakfast, regardless of the time?
Then again,Iwasn't loving it, not now, anyway.
In cheerier news, by the time we were seated, one thing was beyond obvious – none of my co-workers cared one bit that I'd been given a leave of absence.
And why? Because they were too busy fawning over Flynn. When we'd arrived, there'd been no free tables – well, none that weren't covered up in dirty dishes, that is. But like magic, a window booth was suddenly clean and available, complete with fresh silverware and surprisingly unstained menus.
As Flynn and I slid into opposite sides of the booth, I tried to act like all of this was normal, even while a teenage couple in a neighboring booth took several selfies with Flynn in the background.
If Flynn noticed, he gave no sign.
Around us, the hum of voices finally resumed to a normal level. For that, I was grateful. Still, as I pretended to scan the menu, I found myself slumping lower in the booth, wishing that I could magically disappear.
It wasn't that I was shy. I just didn't know how to act, and Flynn wasn't helping.
Even though we were supposedly old friends, he hadn't said more than two words to me since entering the restaurant. As for myself, I wasn't terrific at small talk even on the best of days, especially with someone who obviously loathed me.
I'd just hunkered down further behind the menu when Flynn said, "Hey Anna."
I lowered the menu just a fraction. "What?"
"You sink any lower, and people are gonna get ideas."
"What do you mean?"
He glanced down toward his pelvis. "I'm just saying…" He didn't bother finishing the sentence.
Then again, he didn't need to.
Already, I'd shot up in the booth, sitting up so straight, I'd put a military cadet to shame.
And now, Flynn was laughing. It wasn't a big laugh, but it still grated.
I leaned forward and hissed, "Have you ever considered that most people don't have their minds in the gutter?"
"No."
"Oh, soyouthink they do?"
"Walk in my shoes for a week," he said. "You'd be surprised at what you'd see."
I sat back and studied him from across the booth.Did that really happen? Did girls actually go down on him at waffle joints?
