Flynn lets go and picks up the helmet off his bike. He slips it on, then flips down the visor and says, “Be good.”
My stomach clenches.
New kink: Unlocked.
Beside me, Wright lets out a breath, and we both watch as Flynn straddles his bike, revs the engine, and tears out of the alley.
A heavy quiet settles as the bike fades and Wright pins me with a gunshot stare. “Spill.”
8
FLYNN RIDER, LOVE OF MY LIFE
Hazel
I don’t wantto risk Flynn listening in on our conversation, so I drive us to Banshee, the local bar.
Olivia managed to get out of work early and apparently Wright messaged her because she’s waiting in one of the booths when we arrive.
I narrow my eyes at Wright. “Is this an intervention?”
Wright’s barbell piercing catches in the light as she raises a brow. “Should it be?”
I groan and make my way through the late-night crowd to the bar because I firmly believe interrogations should come with alcohol.
Light bulbs of various sizes hang down above the bar, their amber glow shining against the varnished wood below. I catch Kacee’s eye, and she jerks her chin in greeting as she pulls a pint.
She must be a good five hours into her shift, but her hair still sits in a perfect Afro halo around her thin face. “Hey, hey, what can I get you?” she asks as she comes over, wiping her hands on the towel over her shoulder.
“Tequila shots.”
Kacee looks between me and Wright who’s appeared at my shoulder. “What’s the occasion?”
Oh, not much, it’s just my three-day anniversary of being stalked by a serial killer.
“Hazel’s got some explaining to do,” Wright chips in.
Kacee smirks. “Sounds fun.”
“Kill me now.”
“Go take a seat,” Kacee says on a smile. “I’ll bring them over.”
Wright snags my hand and drags me away from the bar, calling over her shoulder, “Thanks Kace, bring lemons too because Hazel can’t stomach her tequila.”
We reach the booth in the back corner and Livi looks up from her phone. She scoots over and signs, “Thanks for rescuing, Wright.”
I hum. “I might regret it in a minute.”
“Sit,” Wright orders, and I slide into the booth opposite Liv, shimmying up until I’m against the wall.
Categorically speaking, Banshee is kind of a creepy place. It has sort of a gothic vibe, and the walls are covered with writing scratched into the dark paint, like a message board for the afterlife. Somehow though, the look Wright pins me with is far scarier.
“Explain.”
I tip my head back against the torn leather of the booth. “It’s… complicated.”
Livi taps the table.“What is?”
