"Forget it."
I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. "Does that mean 'forget it' as in 'don't worry about it'?" Or 'forget it' as in I should give up trying to explain?"
"It means I’m not paying you to ask questions."
So much for mending fences.
"Fine," I said. "Let's just glower at each other then." And then, true to my word, I leaned back in the booth and tried to look athimthe way he sometimes looked at me.
It made my face hurt.
Even worse, he looked annoyingly unperturbed.
And hestillwasn't talking.
The visual standoff lasted for several long minutes until Flynn's gaze drifted toward a nearby booth, where an attractive brunette was just being seated.
I had no idea who she was, but she was very stylish, with shoulder-length hair, long legs, and a long, lingering look in Flynn's direction.
It was fairly obvious that she recognized him. But then again, who hadn't?
When she smiled, he actually smiled back. It wasn't a huge smile, but it was ten times bigger than anythingI'dever gotten.
I stiffened.So he could smile at a total stranger, but he couldn't even pretend to smile at me?
I tried to think. What would I do if thisweren'tjust an act?
And then it hit me. I cleared my throat,loudly.
When Flynn looked in my direction, I gave him my sweetest smile. "Hey, remember me, your dearest friend?"
To my infinite surprise, his lips curved in the barest hint of a smile.
Subtle or not, the smile hit me like a bolt of sunshine, and my breath caught. For once, he wasn't giving me the cold, scary smile he used in the movies. Instead,thissmile – as faint as it was – looked almost boyish.
Before I could stop myself, I'd already murmured, "Wow."
And just like that, his smile was gone. "What?"
"For a minute there, you looked almost human."
"Yeah, well don't get used to it."
There were so many things I might've said in response. But suddenly, my tongue was tied up in knots – not because Flynn had actually smiled at me, but because a new hush had just descended on the restaurant.
The hush sounded familiar –toofamiliar.
I was facing away from the front entrance, but now, I slowly turned to look.
When I did, my stomach lurched.
Oh, no.
With new desperation, I looked back to Flynn, expecting to see him eyeing the door with the same sicknessIwas feeling. But he wasn't. Instead, his gaze remained firmly on me, even as Felicity Saint Cloud hollered out, "You bastard!"
