Page 88 of Flipping His Script
Chapter 33
Flynn
From the look on Anna's face, she knew exactly what I meant. "Oh." She cleared her throat. "So it'sthatpoint in the script?"
Obviously, she meantmyscript, the one I'd laid out in my car on the night we'd made our secret agreement. The plan had been for us to come across as old friends who, after getting reacquainted, ended up as something more – and not just fuck buddies either.
In my original timetable, this would've happened in another week or two – giving us just enough time to stop Felicity from calling me a cheater.
It mattered – and not because I gave a rat's ass what the world thought of me. I was going for the no-fuss, no-muss kind of deal, where I'd walk off into the sunset, leaving all of the bullshit behind.
No more pretending to be somebody I wasn't. No more faking it for money. No more hanging with people I hated.
As far as the rest, I might be a dick, but I wasn't a cheater – and never had been.
To Anna's question about my so-called script, all I said was, "Yeah. So answer the question."
"What question?"
I repeated it. "What do you do for fun?"
She hesitated. "Why?"
"Because we're gonna do it tonight. In public."
Her face colored like I'd just said something dirty. "What do you mean?"
Her blush only pissed me off. She looked too cute and too vulnerable. Unlike the character I played in the movies, I'd always had a soft spot for damsels in distress, which is how I'd come to hate Anna in the first place.
But hey, I'd learned my lesson. If she was hoping for a rescue, she was looking at the wrong guy.
I gave her a hard look. "I don't mean public sex if that's what you think."
Her blush only deepened. "I wasn't thinking that. But you've got to admit, the way you put it…" She glanced away. "Well, it sounded pretty bad."
Or pretty good, depending on your view of things.
Still, I replied, "Only if your mind's in the gutter."
"Gee, thanks."
"You're welcome."
The truth was, Anna's mind wasn’t theonlyone in the gutter. There was a reason I'd been avoiding the house.
It wasn't yet summer, but what was Anna wearing? Little shorts and T-shirts that were giving me way too many ideas.
It was irritating as hell.
In Hollywood, I'd gone to parties – and plenty of them – where girls wore a lot less than Anna. But unlike the person in front of me, they didn't look nearly as sweetoras innocent.
But Anna, she was neither sweet, nor innocent, regardless of how she looked or acted. I'd be smart to remember that.
I said, "So, are you gonna answer the question?"
"About what I do for fun?" She paused as if thinking. "Well, I read and, uh, cook–"
"If you're talking more waffles, forget it."
