I suppose this week I should leave you with this chapter...

I hope you enjoy...

___

I stayed stock-still in the hallway, eyes locked on his brown ones, refusing to move. He had changed since I had last seen him. Of course he had. At night, he had taken his shirt off, wearing only his boxers, confidence consuming him since we had both seen each other in our underwear. 

But today... today, he was wearing one of my favourite colours on him: yellow.

When the corner of his lips turned up as his eyes went over me, my heart hammered in fear of what he could possibly want... I never saw him at this time of the day. He never came here on his own accord, not knowing if I was home or not in fear of contronting my dad without me.

Yet he did.

Why?

Was turning me down really that important that it couldn't wait?

I opened and closed my mouth several times, trying to find the words that would get him to go before things got awkward, but nothing ever came out.

Flynn raised a finger and motioned for me to come in.

But I stayed where I was, refusing to budge.

Heaving a sigh, he closed the distance between us. Reaching over my chair, he dragged me into the room and then closed the door behind him as much as he could—leaving the obligatory crack dad always insisted we have.

"Why are you here?" I squeaked, unable to face him as I kept my head turned down.

"I told you we'd talk in the morning. And considering you ran away—how I have no clue—I had to come find you," he said matter-of-factly, with a hint of annoyance to his tone. He didn't like that he had to come here to talk to me...

"How long... how long have you been here?" I then asked.

"Well, I woke up a couple of hours ago. Your side of the bed was cold, so I imagine it was a while after you left. I tried texting you but you never responded. I tried Sara's but she said you and your sister weren't there. So my next best bet was here... I haven't been waiting too long though, to answer your question."

I was looking everywhere in my room but him, wondering how I could get him to leave.

I knew I had to face this conversation eventually.

I knew at some point, I had to look Flynn in the eyes and admit I had fallen for him, even though I knew he'd never return those feelings.

I knew at some point I'd have to face him in the wake of him most likely knowing this fact after all that I blurted out while drunk last night.

Nonetheless, after talking it through with Lexi, I thought I'd have almost two weeks to get to that point. Not two hours...

"I'm still not feeling well, so can we do this another—" I started, but Flynn closed the distance between us, stopping when he was right in front of my chair.

Before I could ask what he was doing, he reached down and pulled my prosthetic from my hold. He then walked over to my bed, placing it right by my bedside table where it normally lives. 

"How did you run away so quickly?" he asked as he got back to standing height.

"It... I... It was hard, but I somehow managed to shove my prosthetic on."

Brows pulling together, he came back over to me, kneeling down by my chair and stump. His hands softly trailed up my thigh, stopping at the edge of the sleeve, causing my body become covered with goosebumps. "May I?" he asked, eyes meeting mine.

Unsure what on earth was going on right now, I nodded. I didn't know how to ask him what he was doing. Words were not a concept I knew anymore. Especially as his fingers gently brushed over my skin as he pulled my slip off my leg.

He grimaced as it came off and I followed his line of sight.

Large red irritation marks surrounded my stump. 

"Callie," he softly reprimanded, looking up at me, "You should have just stayed."

"Should maybe... but I... it was too awkward."

He then glanced over my shoulder at the door, "This would have all been way less awkward if your dad wasn't in the next room, and we were at mine behind an actually closed door."

"This?" I asked back.

Yet rather than answering me, he stood up once more. Leaning down, he grabbed my hands in his. Then he pulled me to my foot, leaving us only a breath apart, his hands hovering on my hips to keep me steady.

"W-what—" I started to ask, very conscious of the way his fingers lightly gripped into the small of my back. Overly wary of the same orange and sandalwood scent I had spent the whole night breathing in. 

But he cut me off. "Be honest with me, Callie," he whispered, face impossibly close as he stared down at me with those midnight eyes that still melted my heart all these months on.

"I'm always honest," I squeaked back, trying to look everywhere but him.

"You're really not," he laughed.

But when I didn't say anything,  he eventually he asked the dreaded question.

"I don't want to believe that everything people say when they are drunk is true. So I've been waiting for you to be sober to confirm this... That guy you like... Is it me?"

"I... it's... I..." I was trying to look away, but he moved every time I averted my eyes, blocking my view so that I had to look at him.

And while my heart hammered in my chest as I wondered how I could possibly avoid answering, his eyes swirled with... well... happiness? And the corners of his lips were already turned upwards.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, doing all I could at this point by tucking my chin to my chest to avoid his eyes.

Yet then one of his fingers slipped under my chin, propping my head up again so I had to meet his gaze. "No," he whispered. "Don't say you're sorry, Callie. Just tell me... If it's me you like, tell me."

Knowing my time of avoiding this was up, I breathed, "I do." Then my eyes began to sting as I knew what would follow. My heart felt like it was in my throat as I waited for him to say the very words that rejected me. 

Yet then a grin took hold of his face. "Really?"

Brows knotting together, I gave him a brief nod of confusion. Because an elated expression was not one I ever pictured Flynn to be sporting after the confession. Pity, sorrow, apologetic... That would have been more fitting. How could he be almost... pleased about this?

His hand that was on my chin slowly trailed its way up my jaw until it was cupping my face.

And my cheeks became alight.

What is he—

His thumb gently brushed across my cheekbone. "You can't even understand how happy that makes me. At first I thought no one could ever compete with Noah for you... but when you said you didn't like him anymore... well, I just assumed if it were me you would have said something. And a part of me thought that you never would or could because perhaps I'd always be just a friend, and—"

"Wait," I cut him off as he started gushing what seemed like a rehearsed spiel. "Why... Why do you seem glad that I like you? Doesn't it make this awkward?"

This time his brows pulled together. But after his eyes searched my face for a while, he then shook his head, grin spreading across his face again. "You're really dense sometimes, Callie. I thought you knew all this time..."

"Knew what?"

"That the girl I've been falling for over the past six months is my best friend."

His best friend.

But I'm his best friend.

Who else—

My eyes went wide. "Wait, you mean—"

But he didn't let me finish.

Before the words could leave my mouth.

Before any doubt could find its way in.

Before I could even ask for more verbal clarity.

Suddenly, his mouth was on mine, removing any hesitancy, worry, or uncertainty that remained in me.

Right hand gentle on my face, left firm on my waist and holding me up, his lips gently brushed over mine, causing my heart to glow and all my nerves to light up in pure bliss.

It only took a second for me to realise that Flynn Thomson liked me back.

That Flynn Thomson liked me.

That Flynn was kissing me.

Arms wrapping around his neck, I opened my mouth and traced his lips with my tongue.

He parted his mouth immediately, letting me in, and the hand on my face wound behind my head, pulling me closer to him. 

And everything finally felt right.

So... are we satisified?