Page 85 of Flipping His Script
Chapter 32
Anna
I gave Flynn an irritated look. "But they came into the apartment."
It was nearly nightfall, the day after Becka had given me a heads-up about that impromptu interview.
Flynn had just returned in his car from who-knows-where. He'd been gone since early this morning, leaving me alone in his secluded mansion.
By now, I was pretty used to it. The truth was, we didn't spend a ton of time together, mostly because I spent most of my time in the pink bedroom whilehespent most of his time elsewhere.
Other than hiking, I had no idea where he went. He didn't say, and I refused to give him the satisfaction of asking.
As far as the pink bedroom, sure it was hideous, but not nearly as awful as the room I'd been sharing with Becka.Thatroom was a third of the size and had a funky smell that no amount of cleaning could remove.
My guess? It was the carpet.
Becka, on the other hand, was convinced that something had died in the walls and was slowly rotting away. Then again, she alwaysdidhave a morbid streak.
But here at Flynn's place, everything smelled nice and new. Plus, I had my own private bathroom with a whirlpool tub. Already, I'd come to totally love it, even if itwasin that same hideous shade of pink.
In spite of my earlier reluctance, I was enjoying my stay more than I'd expected.
I had some books, my phone, and my imagination, which sadly centered way too often on Flynn. It's not that I was obsessing over him, not really. It's just that I couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was going on.
Obviously, he was avoiding me.No surprise there.Still, when Ididsee him, his personality was so varied that he seemed like two different people.
One of those people wasn'tsobad. But the other? Well, let's just say he wasn't all that different from the prince he played in the movies. Andthatguy was a stone cold bastard.
Now, standing in the front entryway, Flynn looked annoyingly unconcerned. "What, they busted in by force?"
"The reporters?" I hesitated. "No. She, uh, invited them inside."
"Exactly."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean, it's not my problem if she rolls out the welcome mat."
As usual, he was missing the point. "Yeah, but she wouldn't've done such a thing if they hadn't shown up in the first place."
"How many?"
"How many what?"
"Reporters."
I tried to think. From the footage, I'd guess maybe two – someone behind the camera and someone doing the actual interview. "Two, I think."
Flynn was wearing jeans and a dark button-down shirt, nothing special. And yet, he somehow managed to like God's gift to female-kind, even as he said, "Yeah? When it's a dozen, let me know."
Aside from our ill-fated trip to the waffle house, I hadn't left Flynn's property since arriving, mostly because I hated the thought of getting ambushed, whether by random reporters or by local people wanting to know what was going on.
Of course, I hadn't counted on reporters showing up at my mom's place. Even more to the point, I hadn't counted on her actually inviting them in, especially considering that our place was so tiny.
I muttered, "I'm not sure a dozen could fit."
"Where?"
