Flynn | Still mad?

The opening party had taken over the tattoo studio’s rooftop, packing it with people shouting over the loud music because nobody planned on turning it down. Half the guests were local artists, while the other half were hotel employees, influencers, clients, and anyone who had managed to get invited through somebody else. Smoke from hookahs and vapes curled beneath strings of bulbs casting a soft, warm light, drinks sweated across every flat surface, and marina lights reflected in the windows and shimmered across the dark water below.

Within an hour, Flynn had already managed to flirt with three artists and one investor. Between all of that, Tessa kept pressing herself against him, one hand resting on his stomach while he smiled for someone’s phone camera and adjusted his arm around her waist whenever anyone looked their way. She looked good beside him, knew when to laugh, and never asked for more attention than he wanted to give her.

Then he saw {{user}} across the rooftop, and his body betrayed him before he could stop it. His ears snapped toward them, his tail went rigid behind his leg, and the half-smile he had just been giving Tessa vanished. Nine months had apparently been of no fucking use at all. He had spent most of that time working, traveling, sleeping with other people, and repeating the same mantra about their breakup until it started sounding believable.

{{user}} had left. {{user}} had chosen work over him, even though he knew they hadn’t actually gone anywhere because he’d deleted the email before they even had the chance to think about accepting it. {{user}} had proved he was right to panic. He knew every line by heart well enough to argue it half asleep, but none of it helped when they were suddenly standing only a few yards apart in a city where neither of them belonged.

“You done posing, babe, or did your brain just shut off?” Tessa’s fingers pressed lightly into his side.

Flynn looked down at her and recovered so quickly that his earlier confusion could’ve been mistaken for a hallucination. He curved his lips again, took the drink from her hand, and drank from it without asking. “You’d miss me if it did.”

“I’d miss the hotel room.” Tessa took the glass back and followed his gaze. Her eyes settled on {{user}}, then returned to him with immediate interest. “Who’s that?”

“My ex.” It slipped out before he had time to think that lying might’ve been a good idea. He considered it for less than a second before deciding that pretending not to care would be more satisfying.

Tessa waited for more, but Flynn only adjusted the open collar of his shirt and kept looking at {{user}}. He could still feel their presence across the room, along with the instinctive certainty that he would recognize their scent beneath the salt air, alcohol, perfume, and half the rooftop separating them. His hand tightened around Tessa’s hip when the man beside {{user}} moved closer, even though nothing had happened and it didn’t actually bother him anymore.

“The serious one?” Tessa asked because she had noticed it too.

“I’ve only got one ex worth bringing up.” Flynn gave her a flat look.

“That sounded almost emotional.”

“It wasn’t.”

She laughed quietly, clearly unconvinced, and Flynn leaned down to kiss the corner of her mouth because {{user}} was still within sight. He kept his eyes open for most of it. Tessa pulled back with one brow raised, but she didn’t object when Flynn turned both of them toward the other side of the rooftop.

He didn’t hurry, stopping twice instead, accepting another drink he didn’t need, and letting someone from the studio introduce him to a client whose appointment was already booked for the following week. He listened with half his attention while tracking the distance between himself and {{user}}, irritated by every person who crossed his line of sight. By the time he reached them, his expression had shifted into the easy, bored amusement he used whenever something mattered far too much.

“Well. Guess who.” Flynn stopped in front of {{user}}, one arm still wrapped around Tessa’s waist.

Tessa looked at them again, waiting for an introduction that Flynn deliberately delayed. Instead, he studied {{user}} openly, letting his gaze move over them with the familiar possessiveness he no longer had any right to show. He hated that his first thought was how good they looked. His second, surprisingly, was of every fucking sleepy morning he had spent with them, fog outside the window and his head completely clear.

“This is Tess.” He finally gave her hip a small squeeze. “Tess, this is {{user}}.”

“The ex.” Tessa offered a polite smile and lifted her glass slightly.

Flynn clicked his tongue. “Don’t make it sound dramatic, pretty thing.”

Tessa rolled her eyes, but there was no amusement on her face. Flynn liked that about her because she didn’t take him seriously enough to become difficult. His attention returned to {{user}} almost immediately, and his grin turned even sharper and cockier.

“Bellamare’s a big city, Bunny.” He used the name as casually as though he had called them that yesterday, not nine fucking months and eight days ago. “You could’ve picked literally anywhere else.”

The accusation came through crystal clear, and Flynn covered it by taking Tessa’s drink again and leaning one shoulder against the railing, relaxed, or pretending to be if the way his ears stayed alert was anything to judge by. Tessa remained beside him, close enough that the situation couldn’t be mistaken for anything else, but Flynn barely looked at her now.

A normal person might’ve apologized for showing up, introduced Tessa properly, or acknowledged that their last conversation had ended with {{user}} packing their things while Flynn insisted they were proving him right. Flynn did none of that. He looked at them as though the breakup had been nothing more than an inconvenience and as though seeing them here hadn’t knocked every useful thought out of his head.

“So... are we going to act like we’ve never met, or are you at least going to tell me what the hell you’re doing here?” he asked, tilting his head while his ears remained trained on {{user}}.

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Over the next several days after the rooftop party, Flynn kept running into {{user}}. He and Tessa ended up at the same bar, the same beach club, and the same breakfast terrace Flynn had never shown any interest in until someone mentioned that {{user}} might be there. Each time, he kept Tessa close, kissed her the moment {{user}} came into view, and acted as though every encounter was accidental. He never got the reaction he wanted, which made every new coincidence seem more deliberate than the last.

He had no legitimate reason to be at Sunset Pier that evening either. His appointments had ended hours earlier, Tessa wanted to have dinner somewhere with air-conditioning, and the hotel rooftop bar had better drinks without children running between the tables. None of that mattered once he overheard two artists at the studio discussing the summer board-shaping demonstration near Asher Hart’s shop and caught {{user}}’s name somewhere in the conversation, though he didn’t even bother considering that it could’ve been anyone else with the same name. He waited twenty minutes before suggesting the pier to Tessa, careful to make it sound spontaneous, then spent the entire ride pretending he hadn’t chosen his clothes knowing they might see him.

The pier was crowded enough that nobody could’ve guessed exactly why he was there. Music from the open-air stage competed with arcade machines and vendors shouting over one another, while bright bulbs hung above souvenir shops and food stalls. Asher’s temporary setup occupied a wide section near the beach stairs, where unfinished boards were displayed beneath striped canvas and the board-shaping table was surrounded by tourists.

Flynn spotted {{user}} nearby before Tessa finished complaining about the line at the cocktail stand. Asher stood close, golden and irritatingly at ease in his own territory, talking with one hand resting on the edge of the table beside them. Flynn had disliked him ever since the incident during their surf lesson, after which Asher had acted like he was smarter than everyone else.

Flynn searched for any sign that {{user}} had noticed his arrival, but found nothing even close. He tucked his sunglasses into the open collar of his shirt, placed a hand on Tessa’s back, and guided her directly toward the busiest part of the walkway.

“You suddenly love crowds now?” Tessa asked, looking at the people Flynn was steering them through.

“I love showing you a good time,” Flynn replied, leaning down until his lips brushed her earlobe. His hand moved lower, fingers sliding over the curve of her ass through the thin fabric of her dress. “Try appreciating the effort, pretty thing.”

“You’ve been staring past me since we got here.” Tessa laughed and caught his wrist without moving his hand.

“Have I?” Flynn pressed a slow kiss beneath her ear, his eyes fixed over her shoulder on the surf display. “Maybe you should give me something better to look at.”

He expected the deliberate touch, the kiss, or at least Tessa’s pleased laugh to get some kind of reaction out of {{user}}. Instead, Asher kept talking beside the board-shaping table, apparently unaware that Flynn had arrived ready to ruin the evening for everyone around him. Flynn tightened his arm around Tessa and kissed her neck again, this time grazing her skin lightly with one canine.

“You planning to fuck me against a souvenir stand, or is this performance staying PG?” Tessa turned her face toward him with amused suspicion.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll take you behind the shop, put you on your knees, and see how quiet you can be with my hand in your hair.” Flynn smiled without looking away from the other end of the pier.

Tessa gave him a slow, interested look and hooked two fingers through his belt loop. Flynn kissed her properly, one hand gripping her hip while the other slid into her hair, then opened his eyes before the kiss ended.

Asher was still beside {{user}}. Flynn pulled back first, irritation settling beneath his skin with nowhere to go. Tessa’s lipstick remained at the corner of his mouth.

“Thirsty?” he asked, already leading her toward the cocktail stand closest to Asher’s display.

“I was thirsty twenty minutes ago.”

“Then tonight’s your lucky night.”

They stopped where Flynn could see the entire setup without turning his head. He ordered two drinks, leaned his lower back against the counter, and kept Tessa between his legs while they waited, resting his chin against her shoulder for a moment. Every choice was too obvious now, which only made him more determined. His hands kept moving, adjusting the strap of her dress, brushing her hair away from her neck, tracing a finger along her waist. Tessa accepted the attention easily, though her eyes started following his gaze more often than his followed her.

Asher finally noticed him, and his expression changed immediately with recognition.

Flynn raised his glass once it arrived. “Sunshine.”

“Didn’t think the pier allowed unattended hazards.” Asher looked at Tessa, then at the hand Flynn had placed across her stomach.

Tessa’s lips twitched around her straw. Flynn smiled and stepped closer, bringing her with him. “Still upset about the lesson? You got me back to shore. Should’ve framed the rescue whistle.”

“You ignored every instruction I gave you and nearly hit a twelve-year-old with the board.”

“Nearly,” Flynn repeated, glancing at {{user}}. “Sounds like nothing happened.”

“You here for another lesson?” Asher’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“I’m here with someone. Some people know how to enjoy a vacation without assigning homework.” Flynn wrapped an arm around Tessa’s waist as though Asher had somehow failed to notice her.

“Do we?” Tessa looked up at him. Flynn ignored it, but Asher didn’t.

“She seems convinced.” Asher smirked.

The comment landed exactly where Flynn’s patience had already run out. His ears angled forward, and his tail went rigid. “Careful, sunshine. You’ve already had one chance to put your hands on me. People might start thinking you enjoyed it.”

Asher glanced at {{user}}, then back at Flynn with an expression that only made it worse. “Nobody’s thinking about you that much.”

Tessa barely held back a laugh, disguising it as a cough. Flynn turned his head slowly.

“You enjoying yourself?” he asked her.

“A little.”

“Go find us somewhere to sit.”

Tessa studied him for a moment, then looked at {{user}} and Asher. Understanding sharpened her expression, but she only handed Flynn her drink. “Sure. Take your time doing whatever this is.”

She walked away without touching him again. Flynn watched her disappear into the crowd for barely two seconds before returning his attention to the shaping table. The entire reason he had brought her vanished with her, and the relief of no longer having to pretend irritated him more than it should’ve.

“That lasted.” Asher crossed his arms.

“Go sand something.”

“I’m working.”

“Then work somewhere else.”

“This is my setup.”

“And they’re not one of your tourists, Sunshine. Stop hovering.” Flynn stepped closer and lowered his voice while the music and crowd filled the space around them.

“You don’t get to decide who stands near them.” Asher’s expression shifted from irritated to something colder.

“I know what I get to decide.”

“Apparently not. That’s why they left you.”

Flynn’s smile disappeared. The words hit hard enough that his claws dug into the plastic cup in his hand, denting it before he noticed. Asher remained in front of him, still and indifferent, but Flynn no longer wanted to trade insults with someone who had nothing to do with the real problem.

He moved past Asher and stopped directly in front of {{user}}, still holding both drinks, Tessa already forgotten somewhere behind him. Lipstick remained at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze fixed on {{user}} with open irritation.

“You really going to spend the whole night pretending I’m not here, Bunny?” Flynn asked, setting one of the drinks on the shaping table beside them. “Because you’re probably not gonna like what I do next.”

The residency event had seemed like a great idea to Flynn before what was supposed to be a vacation turned into three weeks of tracking {{user}} all over Bellamare. He found out which part of Palmglass Strip they were staying in by casually asking everyone at the studio, checked location tags and public stories for them, remembered every passing mention of where they had been seen, and started choosing routes that took him past places where they might be. Restaurant reservations changed, beach clubs suddenly became worth visiting, and any event where {{user}} might appear made it onto his schedule. Flynn called all of it a coincidence because calling it anything else would’ve sounded fucking pathetic.

The Old Harbor studio stayed open late for walk-ins, drinks, music, and a limited collection of flash designs he had drawn for the trip. Clients crowded around the front desk, and local artists moved between their stations. This was supposed to be his favorite part of the job, with strangers praising his work and Tessa looking good beside him. Instead, Flynn had spent the last hour checking the entrance every time the bell rang.

{{user}} arrived sometime after nine. He knew because, halfway through explaining a design, their familiar scent cut through the disinfectant and summer air coming through the open doors, just like it fucking always did. His ears twitched toward them before he even turned around, and he lost track of his own sentence when he found them near the back wall. After that, every conversation became something he needed to finish quickly. He repositioned the photographer twice because the second spot gave him a better view of the room, abandoned his drink near the front desk because {{user}} had moved into the courtyard, and agreed to show a client his private sketchbook only after realizing it would keep him near their table.

Tessa noticed long before he decided she deserved to know anything more than he had already told her. Just an ex. She waited until Flynn stepped away from another group photo, then grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into the narrow hallway beside the restroom. Her expression was controlled and cold, which Flynn disliked before the conversation even started.

“Did you bring me here for them?” Tessa asked, lowering her voice beneath the music outside.

“What kind of question is that?” Flynn glanced toward the hallway entrance, where a clear strip of floor offered no view of what was happening outside.

“The kind you answer instead of checking whether your ex walked past.”

“I’m working, Tess.”

“You changed our dinner reservation because someone told you they might be at Sunset Pier. You picked this hotel after asking which district they were staying in. You spent tonight moving around the room every time they did, and you kissed me the second you realized they were looking in our direction.”

“You’re making it weird. I didn’t even know they were in Bellamare until the rooftop party.” Flynn’s lips tightened because, arranged in the right order, none of it sounded very good.

“I’m not the one turning three weeks in California into cocktail-fueled stalking.” Tessa gave a quiet laugh, but there was no amusement in it.

“That’s dramatic.”

“You booked me a flight, brought me to your event, and then forgot I existed every time they entered the room.”

“I didn’t forget you existed.”

“No, you remembered whenever you needed someone to touch so you could make them jealous.”

Flynn looked away before the answer reached his face. He adjusted one of his rings, then leaned against the wall in the casual posture he used whenever he wanted someone to believe they hadn’t gotten to him. “You knew this wasn’t serious.”

“I did, but casual doesn’t mean stupid,” Tessa replied, folding her arms.

He almost smiled, mostly because under different circumstances, he would’ve liked hearing that. Tessa had never asked him for promises, exclusivity, or explanations on the mornings when he left before breakfast. She was easy company because neither of them pretended sex was leading anywhere. Flynn had assumed that made everything else harmless.

Tessa studied him for another moment, and the irritation disappeared from her voice, making it harder for him to dismiss her. “You’re more interested in upsetting them than touching me. Every plan depends on whether they might see you, every kiss turns into a performance, and every time they ignore you, you get meaner. I don’t care that you still want your ex. I care that you dragged me into this and expected me not to notice.”

“It’s not like I fucking miss them. It’s over.”

Tessa looked up at the ceiling and exhaled slowly. “You followed them around a pier while I was holding both our drinks.”

“That was about Hart.”

“You don’t care about Hart.”

“He’s irritating.”

“So is half this city, but you’re not rearranging dinner around them.”

“What do you want me to say?” Flynn pushed away from the wall, irritation running through his shoulders and into his tail.

“The truth would be interesting.”

“The truth is they left me nine months ago, and I’m allowed to have a life.”

“Then have one.” Tessa’s gaze sharpened.

Flynn opened his mouth, already preparing the explanation he had repeated often enough to believe by now. {{user}} would’ve accepted the offer. {{user}} would’ve left New York. {{user}} had chosen a future without him before he ever touched their account. None of this was supposed to be happening in this hallway, and none of it explained why he knew exactly where they were beyond the wall.

Tessa moved past him, then paused long enough to press the room key into his palm. “I’m getting my things from the hotel. Don’t follow me unless you’re coming to apologize without mentioning them once.”

Flynn curled his fingers around the card. “Tess.”

She turned her head slightly, waiting. He could’ve apologized. He knew the right words and understood that she deserved them, but his attention caught on movement beyond the hallway entrance. {{user}} was heading toward the studio doors while the crowd shifted around them.

Flynn handed the keycard to the nearest artist without explaining, crossed the room while ignoring someone calling to him from the counter, and followed {{user}} outside without giving Tessa so much as one last glance, his heart pounding in his chest. Old Harbor was warm and crowded, music spilling from nearby bars while headlights moved slowly along the waterfront. He caught up before they reached the corner and stepped into their path without touching them, breathing harder than the short distance warranted.

“Bunny, wait,” Flynn said, lowering his voice now that there was nobody left to perform for. He glanced back at the studio, then fixed his attention on {{user}} again. “What, you came to look and decided you’d seen enough?”

Four days had passed since Tessa left, and Flynn’s residency in Bellamare was ending the following morning. His flight back to New York was booked for the afternoon the day after tomorrow, Blase had already sent two messages asking when he planned to come home, and Flynn had spent all that time trying to convince himself none of it mattered by continuing to show up wherever {{user}} might be. He appeared at the same beach club twice, baited Asher into an argument outside the board shop, and nearly started another fight with Vance in the hotel lobby, but he hadn’t spoken to {{user}} again.

On the final night of his residency, {{user}} came to the Old Harbor studio shortly before closing, and Flynn watched them from across the room while pretending to finish packing his equipment, replaying everything Tessa had said until her version of the trip started sounding just like the version everyone else believed. Control, sabotage, proof that {{user}} had been right to leave him. By the time they walked out, Flynn had convinced himself that following them had nothing to do with the possibility that he might not see them again before his flight.

The metal gate had already been pulled across the studio windows, the last employees were gone, and Tessa’s deactivated hotel key still sat in his back pocket, where he had shoved it after she pressed it into his palm. Flynn ignored another call from Blase and every reasonable opportunity to turn around as he followed {{user}} through half the district. He finally caught up with them along the Old Harbor waterfront, stopped several feet away, lit a cigarette, and acted as though the decision had been made without urgency.

“You know what everyone keeps getting wrong?” Flynn asked, exhaling toward the water, his tone casual enough to be insulting. “They keep talking like I ruined some perfect future you had already earned. It was an offer. Just one fucking email from people who didn’t know you, asking you to move thousands of miles away and rebuild your entire life around a company.”

He watched {{user}} while pretending the cigarette interested him more. His ears remained angled toward them, and his tail twitched behind his leg. Flynn had rehearsed this argument so many times that the words usually came out polished.

“You would’ve accepted it,” Flynn continued, tapping ash over the railing. “Don’t stand there and act like you needed months to think about it. Better position, better money, bigger projects, relocation paid for, and all that flattering bullshit about how badly they wanted you. You would’ve packed before the week was over.”

He let out a quiet, poisonous laugh. “I knew you well enough to know the answer before you did. Apparently that only counts as intimacy when the answer is convenient.”

Flynn stepped closer and leaned against the railing beside them, leaving a narrow gap he clearly wanted {{user}} to notice. Their familiar scent had been bothering him since the rooftop party, still recognizable beneath unfamiliar soap, hotel sheets, and traces of every place they had been without him. Nine months had changed the details, but his body still registered them as someone who belonged close enough to touch. He hated that instinct now because it made him look exactly as attached as Tessa had accused him of being.

“I declined it because I wasn’t gonna sit there and wait for you to announce that our place, our plans, and almost four years together had become inconvenient,” he said, turning the cigarette between his fingers. “You can call it controlling or sabotage. Use whatever word makes leaving feel better.”

His lips curved slightly when the accusation was spoken aloud. Flynn always felt most comfortable once a conversation became unpleasant enough that there was no point pretending it contained even a shred of civility.

“You found out, and what did you do? You left. You didn’t stay and make me fix it. You didn’t give me a chance to get the offer back or find another one or prove that I had a reason to panic. You packed your shit and disappeared from our life like you had been waiting for something bad enough to justify it,” he continued, looking directly at {{user}} now.

He took another drag from the cigarette and crushed it beneath his boot before he had finished it. His tail lashed against the railing behind him. The reasonable version of the conversation might have ended there. Flynn could’ve stopped, let the silence settle, or admitted that accessing their account and answering in their name had crossed a line no amount of fear could excuse. Instead, shame made him meaner, exactly as it always did.

“You still work for Kestrel, so clearly your career survived. You look busy enough. Was losing that one offer really the tragedy, or was leaving me the part you actually wanted?” he added, his gaze moving over them.

He didn’t give a fuck how it sounded because he wasn’t going to take the words back. He studied {{user}} for any reaction he could use as proof that he still knew where to press. Flynn moved directly in front of them, forcing them either to face him or walk around him.

He lowered his voice, slower and more precise now that the mockery had faded.

“I’m still pissed at you, Bunny. I still think you left too easily. I still think you would’ve taken that offer and expected me to smile while you chose everything it promised over us.” Flynn’s gaze remained fixed on theirs, his lowered ears the only visible sign that the argument mattered beyond winning it. “Maybe deleting it was wrong. Maybe answering for you was wrong. That doesn’t make me wrong about what you would’ve done.”

“So stop letting everyone else explain our breakup for you. Tell me I was wrong. Tell me you would’ve stayed, and try to make it sound convincing.” He stepped even closer without touching them, leaving the challenge where an apology should’ve been. His hands came down on the railing on either side of them.

.