“Relying on my natural reluctance to being left owing someone, I see.”I shook my head.“So manipulative.”
“Think of it as my encouraging your reconnection with rarely-enjoyed cuisines.”
“Fine.”I looked, pointedly, at the credit card he’d just set down.“If you’re sure you can afford it.”
Flynn grunted amusement.“I’m not entirely destitute.Not this week, anyway.”
Grinning, I sat back and watched as the waiter brought over the little payment machine.Finishing the last of my beer, and ignoring the memory of how warm Flynn’s hand had been, even just in the few seconds it had taken to move mine away.
“You ready?”
I set down the empty bottle.“Sure.”
#
It was cooler outsidethan I expected, the air crisp under a cloudless sky.Quieter, too, though still with that thrum of traffic.Something I always noticed, for the first hour or so after I arrived, since it was so different from home.
And then, of course, it faded into the background.Our brains being indecently adept at reshaping to suit the status quo.
Flynn rubbed his bare arms.“Damn, it got cold.”
My glance was withering.“You got soft, city boy.This is fine.”
He nudged me in the side as we walked.“I forgot how strong and manly you are.The rest of us are simply in awe of you, Oli; you know that, right?”
I struck a bodybuilder pose: arms held up, my biceps tensed.“As well you should be.”
Flynn laughed, then flicked the swollen muscle.
“Hey!”I flinched away, rubbing the spot.“That stings.”
“So strong, so manly,” Flynn repeated, tone teasing.“I hope you put ‘masc’ on your profiles, just so people know what they’re getting themselves into.”
“Ask your boyfriend,” I fired back, smirking.“He’s the one who messaged me.”
I’d hoped the walking, and the cold air - which was, despite my mocking of Flynn, actually fairly uncomfortable - would rein in my loose tongue.Apparently that was another grand plan of mine which fell short in practice.
“He’s got good taste,” Flynn said.
I chuckled.“I like that, under the pretense of giving me a compliment, you just managed to praise yourself, too.”
He winked.“That’s how you know it’s genuine.Why are you smiling?”
I shook my head.“Just thinking that, if you’d asked me a week ago whether I thought Flynn Cunningham could be genuine, I’d have laughed in your face.”
“And now?”
It was my turn to nudge him.“I had a good weekend, is all.”
He nodded, slowly.Looking thoughtful.“Yeah.Me too.A surprising one, but good.”
“Definitely surprising,” I agreed.Then paused, to glance back at where he’d stopped on the sidewalk.“What?”
Flynn looked up, pointedly.“Isn’t this your hotel?”
I probably would’ve kept walking, too.I backtracked to where he was standing.
“Thank you for dinner.”