Livi frowns and finger spells “Flynn Fletcher.”Her mouth rounds in an ‘o’ and she spins to face me.
“Flynn! It’s fate.”
“It is not fate!” I argue. “I am not fated to be with a man who has killed at least eight people purely because he shares a name with a movie character I have a crush on.”
“You’ve been obsessed with Flynn Rider since you were six.”
I hold up a finger. “Okay, firstly, everyone had a crush on Flynn Rider?—”
“I didn’t.”
Wright’s gaze tapers on Livi. “Whodidyou have a crush on?”
“Kylo Ren.”
“The guy who killed his father in cold blood?”
“Hazel’s the one dating a serial killer!”
I gape at Livi. “I amnotdating a serial killer,” I hiss. “You guys are supposed to be telling me to call the police or something!”
Wright finally looks a little chagrined. She fiddles with her lip ring. “Okay, serious question. Do you really think he’s going to hurt you?”
I rest my head back against the cushioned booth. Flynn’s stalked me, broken into my house, stolen my work schedule. The answer to Wright’s question should be obvious and yet I’ve never once felt unsafe with him. He could have hurt me so many times already and all he’s done is take care of me.
I know what abuse feels like. I’m all too familiar with the thread of fear that runs under every action, never quite knowing what might trigger their anger. It’s not like that with Flynn. The man has no understanding of the word boundaries, but the only part of me I think he might actually hurt is my heart.
And that, is terrifying.
9
DEAD PARENTS CLUB
Hazel
Flynn is sittingon my porch when I get home.
I pull the keys out of the ignition but stay in the driver’s seat for a moment. I should be scared or mad or some combination of the two but he’s sitting there with his legs stretched across the steps, one ankle crossed over the other, and all I can think is how beautiful he looks in the moonlight. It’s not fair for someone so deadly to be so pretty.
I get a twinge of guilt for making a date with Derek, but I brush it off. There is nothing going on with me and Flynn and it’s going to stay that way. I clench my house keys in my fist and get out of the car.
Plan A: Pretend the stalker sitting on your porch doesn’t exist.
I keep my gaze set on the door, stepping over Flynn’s legs and following Plan A like a pro right up until his hand curls around my ankle.
“It’s rude to ignore your guests, Hazel.”
My keys dig into my palm, all my effort focused on ignoring the tingles spreading from his touch. “The term guest only applies to someone invited in,” I grit out.
Flynn runs his thumb up and down my calf. “I guess that means we’re sitting out on the porch tonight.”
“I want to go inside,” I say.
Flynn’s thumb stills. “Then maybe you should have done as you were told and gone straight home.”
My stomach flips, the dominance lacing his voice doing things to my body.
“Sit down, Hazel.”
