Page 67 of Flipping His Script


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Chapter 26

Anna

As Flynn drove us out of town, I glared at him from the passenger's seat. "I can't believe you just did that."

"Hey, it wasn't just me," Flynn said. "It was Sammy, too."

"Yeah, well maybe you're both idiots."

And this was a massive understatement.

I'd just spent the last fifteen minutes watching, along with fifty other people, as Flynn and Sammy duked it out in the parking lot of Pinkie's Waffle Palace.

I made a sound of irritation. "You know that was risky, right?"

"No kidding," Flynn replied. "For a minute there, I thought he had me."

I knew exactly what Flynn meant. There was a point, maybe ten minutes in, when Sammy had slammed Flynn up against the side of his car and went in with a lightning fast punch.

Flynn had ducked just in time, leaving Sammy's fist flying toward the passenger's side window instead. And he'd hit it, all right. Even now, I was half-surprised the glass hadn't shattered.

But it wasn't the thought of broken glass that had me cringing all over again. "I think he broke his wrist."

"Nah," Flynn said. "A sprain maybe. But a break, I'm not seeing it."

I gave Flynn a worried look. "You won't be seeing much of anything with your eye all swollen up."

Without easing off the gas, Flynn leaned sideways and glanced at his reflection in the rear view mirror. "Nah. It's not gonna swell."

I rolled my eyes. "It'salreadyswelling."

Dumb-ass.

"And," I said, glancing down, "you got blood on my shirt." Whose blood, I wasn't even sure. Probably, I was just lucky that it wasn't my own.

Being a dumb-ass myself, I'd stupidly tried to break up the fight.And how?By lunging for Flynn's hand and trying to drag him away – for all the good it did.

It was like trying to drag a dump truck –withoutthe wheels.

In the process, I'd gotten blood fromhishand ontomyhand, which eventually ended up on the pale yellow shirt that I was now wearing.

Probably, I should've worn red.

From the driver's seat, Flynn said, "Don't worry about it."

"Why not?"

"Because technically it's my shirt."

"So?"

"I’m just saying, it's not a big deal."

That's whathethought. I was in Flynn's car, wearing Flynn's clothes, and traveling to Flynn's house. This couldn’t be healthy. Still, I tried to look on the bright side. At least, I was being paid. And heaven knows, I needed the money.

It wasthisline of thought that made me freeze in sudden horror. "Oh, my God."

"What?"