Flynn glanced around the store.“You’ll miss working here.”
It wasn’t clear if it was a question or a statement.I nodded again.
He fixed me with a look.“When they offered you the new job, what was the one thing which stopped you from just turning it down?Because I know that was your first instinct.”
My memories of that conversation were blurry, from surprise and disbelief.None of the certainty of the letter they’d followed up with, black ink on a white page.
“Well, I didn’t know you then.Not properly, I mean,” I said, haltingly.
Flynn chuckled.“This wasn’t me fishing for compliments.”
“They talked about the more-money part and the better job title, and all that stuff.And that sounded great, but...”
“But that’s not what’s most important, in Oli Carter’s world,” Flynn supplied.Smiled at my shrug.“So...”
“I asked them why, exactly, they wanted someone doing that particular job.Trying to find the hidden gems, why did it really matter?Couldn’t each community decide what was most valuable to them?”
“It’s a good question.”
It’d felt like more like a dangerous question, when I’d voiced it.A foolish one, too: second-guessing how necessary the job you’d just been offered actually was.
“They said it was about taking a step back, and seeing the bigger picture.About not just what individual communities wanted, and needed, and could benefit from most, but joining the dots between those communities.And it was about money, sure, and making the most from every donation, but I - well, whoever got the job - would be in the perfect place to make sure nobody got forgotten along the way.”
Flynn was grinning at me.“Only you could take a management job, and somehow make it even more local than what you’re already doing.”
“I’m just...”
“Adorable,” he interrupted.“You’re just adorable.And I’m biased, because you’re also my adorable boyfriend.But even if I wasn’t, I’d have to be blind not to see they picked the right guy.”
He was vibrating, practically, with a strange, brimming sort of energy.Enough to make my fingers itch to pull him into me again; to drag him, bodily, across the countertop - half-sorted piles be damned - and onto the floor.And then, well, fuck whoever came in through the door: they could see what they pleased.
Perhaps the hunger was visible on my face, or maybe Flynn just felt some of it too.Enough, anyway, for his grin to blossom into a beaming smile.
“When do you finish?”
I glanced up at the clock on the wall.It hurt to look away from him.“Five.”
Only a few hours, and yet I knew the waiting would be interminable.
“I’m meant to go back tomorrow.”Said, not like an ending, but a lure.“You could start moving your stuff, if you wanted.”
I blinked at him, wrong-footed.Brain skidding, from our flirtation to this practicality delivered with the same tenor.“That’s...”
“Too soon?”Flynn licked his lips again, watching me intently.
I shook my head.“Not...not that.I’m just...”
He cocked his head; no mistaking the invitation there.
“I’m meant to be working,” I explained, “and I need to pack, and...well, and contact head office.Accept the offer, officially I mean.”I took a deep breath.“There’s just a lot to do.”
Flynn nodded, slowly.“If I’m pushing you too fast, we can slow down.I can just go back on my own, for now.”
The picture, bright in my mind’s eye, of him climbing into the big SUV and - with a wave, a look that could only feel meaningful - pulling away and down the street.How my stomach would feel, clenched and roiling, at saying goodbye.The way I knew I’d kick myself as soon as he turned the corner, for being so damn cautious.
“No,” I told him, with a finality I knew the rest of me would have to catch up with.“No, let’s get this thing started.There’s no point in wasting time.”