Now, as I stood awkwardly beside his table, I took in his current appearance. In spite of the passing years, he looked nearly unchanged, with that same dark wavy hair, those same knowing eyes, and that same lean, muscular build – tight at the waist and broad in the shoulders.
But his clothes – they were definitely different. His gray button-down shirt, some pseudo-casual thing, was obviously expensive, just like his designer jeans and Italian shoes. Even the watch on his wrist screamed money, and not just a little. I knew the brand. And unless I was mistaken, the thing had cost more than a year's rent for someone like me.
I had to admit, for a guy from the middle of nowhere, he'd done amazingly well for himself.
But me? Not so much.
As I stood there in the crummy little restaurant, it wasn't lost on me that I looked like absolute crap. My dress was ugly, and my shoes were too sensible by half. Even my hair, which I'd always thought was my best feature, was coiled so tight, I might as well be wearing a baseball cap.
In contrast, Flynn looked yummier than any waffle on the menu. Even his smile – as cold as it was – had become a billion-dollar trademark of the ruthless prince he played in the movies.
He wasn't dressed like a medieval prince now, but he still looked princely enough to put me and my current situation to shame.
I'd grown up with the finer things in life, and I knew them when I saw them. Oh sure, these days I never saw them in my own closet, much less the mirror. But the truth was, I was beyond caring – most of the time, anyway.
When I'd been growing up, all of those luxuries had come with a whole lot of strings – secret strings that were pulled way too tight. Now, those strings were gone, just like the lifestyle that went with it.
But hey, I was free.
That was a good thing, right?
Still, it was hard not to wilt under Flynn's penetrating gaze. When he zoomed in on the coffee stain, I wanted to die of embarrassment.
As heat flooded my face, I gritted out, "So? Are you gonna order or not?"
With a self-satisfied smile, he folded the menu and set it aside. "I'll have an orange juice." He paused. "And a waffle."
I tried not to roll my eyes.Of course he would.That was practically the only thing we served. "What kind of waffle?"
He gave a tight shrug. "Surprise me."
Those were dangerous words at a time like this, when I knew for a fact that cockroaches had this annoying habit of scuttling behind the restaurant's dumpster.
One cockroach waffle coming up.
But who was I kidding? I'd never do such a thing. Regardless of what Flynn thought, I was no monster. I was just someone who'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Just like him
