Page 41 of Flint

“Too bad I already got your number, so I guess it ain’t me, huh?”

“Oh, didn’t you hear? I got a new phone. As soon as I find where I left it in the house, I could give you my new digits. If you, um, if you want.”

Well, hot damn. Looks like I won’t be needing that seven-hour drive after all.

But if the sirens and the brothers showing up is any sign, I won’t be getting any relief anytime sooner than seven hours, that’s for damn sure.

Chapter 17 – Julianne

B

est. Day. Ever.

Well, compared to the ones I remember, anyway. Sure, the discovery of popcorn was awesome, especially when paired with an entire day of movies about wizards in a school who fight an evil villain. That was pretty epic to watch. Of course, Gator said the ones about elves and hobbits is better, but we haven’t had a chance to watch those yet. Till I do, I reserve my right to say movies with a boy named Harry are wonderful.

Then there was the day I discovered donuts. And the magical land that makes them all day so you can come back as many times as you want. Gator told me three times was the max, so it was both a good day and a sad day that I learned there are limits to things. Mostly learning that too much could cause a belly ache.

But today tops all those days of relearning things. I met some pretty awesome ladies. I got hot chocolate. My cute outfit was a success, if the look on Flint’s face is a sign, as well as the few head turns I noticed earlier—though I’m wise enough not to mention those. And, hello! Flint is back. I get a feeling shouting for glee is not an option right now. Mostly because I’m sure it’ll hurt my head, which is killing me, by the way. But even that can’t make this day bad.

Flint is back, and I fell for him. Literally and figuratively. I mean, running across the road without looking is probably a huge giveaway. I don’t think shooting at the guy in the car was worth it. Obviously it was my fault, but I don’t want to argue right now. Flint is here and is smiling at me. That’s a good sign, right? The guys have always smiled at me around the club, but I think they’re being nice and not really sure how to act around me. But Flint is Captain Jackass. He only smiles when he wants to, not just to be nice. I know he can be.

The Diet Coke thing at the club was nice. But other than letting me drool on him as I slept and getting me a few drinks, does that really mean he’s a nice guy? I feel it doesn’t. I also secretly believe he only acts like this with me.

But… he’s nice to Ruby.

Nope, not going there. I’m going to believe he’s a jackass to everyone and only nice-ish to me, and that means something. Well, that and the fact that he hasn’t really left my side since he fell on me. That’s a good sign, too, I think.

“You don’t need stitches, and the bleeding has all but stopped thanks to Flint’s quick thinking with the towel,” General explains. “I need to clean it a bit more, and then I’ll put the antibiotic ointment on and dress it.”

“Great, more torture. I swear you get off on causing me pain.” I glare at General, who just ignores me. Typical.

“Sorry, you ain’t special. I get off on causing anyone pain.”

Wow, now that’s a way to shut me up. The boys get a good chuckle at my lack of words. I mean, what do you say to that? “Sign me up” doesn’t feel like the right thing, especially since he isn’t the one I’m willing to give it a go with.

I catch Flint’s eye, and he smirks. “Later, Kitten, after you’re healed.”

Damn, he can read me like an open book. Wonder if everyone else can, too, or if it’s just him. In the end, I don’t think I care. He gets it. I get it. Who gives a fuck if others do too? It ain’t about them. It’s about us.

The front door opening has me lifting my head.

“Don’t move,” General growls.

Fuck, I forgot my head is still being poked at, so I get the joy of tilting my head down and only using my eyes to look up. It ain’t as easy as it seems to not lift your head. Done it like three other times, and each time, General gets less patient with me.

“What the hell happened to you this time?” Bailey groans as she walks into my place.

“I fell.” Seriously, she acts like she doesn’t know this about me. I mean, she claims we’re best friends, and I do feel a sort of connection with her. Unless, of course, this clumsiness is a new thing since the accident and not actually a me thing. If that’s the case, I think I might want that memory back, just to see if I stop being so injury prone.

“If you fell, then why the hell are there cop cars outside?” Bailey waves to the front yard behind me.

“There are? Ow!”

“Told you not to move.” Not a single ounce of remorse in General’s voice as he continues to stab at my head with his torture device of choice: tweezers.

I mutter a few choice words, and everyone is kind enough not to say anything, but I do see a ton of hands covering mouths and hear a few well-timed coughs to cover up the laughter. Assholes, the whole lot.

“Someone shot at the car,” I tell her as I glare at the laughing crowd.

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