But then, romance isn’t what I’m going for. I don’t know exactly how I expect this to work, though.
Flynn studies me like he’s trying to figure it out, too. “Want to go get a coffee?” he asks after a beat.
Oh wow. A coffee.
To a normal girl, that would be an easy yes. Coffee with a hot rock ‘n roll star. A guy who just agreed to have sex with no strings or expectations.
But I don’t do spontaneous, and I don’t do outings. The chance for me freaking out is way too high.
But I don’t want Flynn to know that. He doesn’t know I never leave the building except to see him play. He doesn’t know how pervasive my agoraphobia has been. How damaged I am.
I don’t want him to know. With him, I feel like I could be another person. Not the old me–that girl is forever gone. But someone new. Someone interesting. Exciting, even.
So I say, “Sure. Yes.”
“Do you want to get a jacket?”
I hesitate. If I go back to the apartment, Adrian will be there. He’ll doubt I can make it out. Maybe he’ll insist on going with me. I’ll feel weak and broken–the way I always do around him. It’s not his fault. I have been weak and broken. He stopped three suicide attempts the months after he rescued me. He saw me through the most debilitating depression.
But Flynn doesn’t know me that way, and I like the me that I imagine Flynn sees. She is light and carefree like him.
She can leave the building without getting upset. Without clinging to the elevator door or the door jam.
But hey, if I can do all those things, I can tell Adrian to give me some space, too–right?
“Yes. Come with me?”
“Sure.” He puts his hand on my back and guides me to the elevator. “I had trouble getting to you this morning,” he says with his pirate smile. “I didn’t know your apartment number. I didn’t have your phone number. Nikolai almost kicked my ass for texting his girlfriend to get in the building.”
I hold out my hand, still feeling like the bold version of myself. Like anything is possible and might even not be hard. “Give me your phone.”
He hands me his phone, and I text myself with it. “Now you have me.” I hand it back with a smile.
“Keep smiling, Peaches.” He strokes a thumb across my cheek.
“I don’t know this word,” I tell him.
“Peaches? The peach is a fruit.”
“You are calling me a fruit?”
He gives a casual shrug. Like always, he fills the available space with his presence, but it’s not in that powerful, oxygen-stealing way the bratva men do. It’s with this casual grace that says he can handle anything you throw at him without batting an eye. Like nothing ruffles this guy. Around him, there’s more oxygen to breathe, and he makes me feel safe.
“Because you’re beautiful. And sweet. Also, you have what we call a peaches-and-cream complexion.”
“What?” I touch my cheeks with an embarrassed laugh.
The elevator dings at my floor, and we get off. Flynn follows me off and to my apartment. “Kat and Adrian are still sleeping,” I say before I open the door. “Or more likely, in bed not sleeping.” I waggle my brows, and Flynn quirks the grin that makes my belly flutter.
“I can wait out here.”
I’m relieved by his offer. I’d rather not deal with Adrian if I don’t have to, and Flynn’s manly voice in the apartment would have my brother out of his bed in a flash.
I really need to move out.
The thought is accompanied by the usual sense of constriction in my lungs, but I picture myself moving in with Flynn, and it completely disappears.
But, of course, I won’t be doing that. Flynn doesn’t stick around for relationships.
Although he did say he wanted to stick around longer with me. But without sex. And now we’re having sex. I mean, we’re going to have sex. Ack! I have no idea what it all means. I slip inside, grab my jacket and a knit cap and quickly return, shutting the door softly.
“Oh!” I stop on my way to the elevator. “I didn’t get money.” I seriously have forgotten how these things work. I haven’t been out in so long. Never in America. Not without clinging to Adrian and begging him to take me back.
Flynn’s lips quirk. “I’ve got money.”
“Sorry,” I say. “I’ll pay next time. I know we’re not dating.” I punch the elevator button several times because I’m embarrassed.
I have money, too, now. I still work in the building–cleaning and nannying for Ravil, the bratva pakhan, but that is just to give me purpose. Adrian extorted five million dollars from Kat’s father when he kidnapped her, so the three of us are now rich.
Flynn nudges me back against the elevator wall, his hands lightly resting on my waist. It’s amazing how welcome his touch is. Normally even a brush from another person gives me the hives.