Page 71 of Polly
Chapter 23
Polly
Lovely Oblivion had an amazing show. They did the meet and greets, press pictures, and all the requirements before returning to their bus that night.
Their guard for the night stopped Polly on her way onto the bus. “A florist dropped off flowers and chocolates. I put them on your bunk.”
She grew queasy. “Thank you.”
She climbed the bus steps and took the walk to her bunk apprehensively. A beautiful bouquet of white roses and a box of chocolates sat on the bed. Carefully, as though the card was a hand grenade rather than a piece of paper, she plucked the note from the bouquet. Behind it was the picture of them wearing mismatched clothes before the awards show.
The note read:
Polly, Please talk to me. The pictures aren’t what they look like. I promise. Please let me explain. I love you. I would never hurt you on purpose. Love, Flynn.
Tears welled in her eyes. How could it not be what it looked like? Obviously, the camera caught them in an intimate moment Flynn had never wanted Polly to see and he wanted to back pedal.
She blinked back the tears. She carried the flowers and chocolates to the kitchenette and threw them in the trash. With no shame, she held onto the picture. Maybe it was the last picture she would ever have of them together. She couldn’t bring herself to toss it.
She returned to her bunk, put the picture into her storage drawer, and climbed inside. She turned on some music and shut her eyes. Maybe she could sleep the hurt away.
A text message chimed on her phone. She opened her eyes and checked. Unknown number.
Unknown: It’s Flynn. I nd to tlk to u. Pls cll me
Flynn. Her breath caught and tears rolled down her cheeks. Immediately, she blocked the number.
She heard the rest of the band climb onto the bus, laughing and carrying on. She tried to put Flynn out of her mind and joined her friends in the front lounge for an exciting, rockstar night of board games.
* * *
Polly ran offstage after the show and handed her guitar to a roadie.
“Thanks, man,” she said, wiping the sweat off her face with her hand.
“Great show,” he said and took the instrument.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Polly,” a familiar voice said from behind her. Her heart leaped. Then she remembered she was mad at him.
She turned and saw Flynn standing there. Nausea hit her when she saw how rough he looked. His hair was messy, and he had days’ worth of scruff on his face. He hadn’t shaved. Frown lines creased his forehead. He appeared stressed and disheveled, like he was falling apart and didn’t know what to do. For a second, her heart went out to him; she reigned in her sympathy and fixed a passive expression on her face.
“Flynn,” she said and turned to walk away.
“I need you to listen to me. I can’t lose you.”
“You should’ve thought of that earlier,” she said and stepped away.
Arms around her waist stopped her. Flynn rested his face on her shoulder and hugged her from behind. She froze.
“I didn’t do anything,” he said. “Polly, this is killing me. Nothing happened. I can’t lose you, especially over something I didn’t do.”
She drew a deep breath, shook her head, and said, “I saw the pictures. They’re pretty damning.”
She felt Flynn shake his head no. “Amie was drunk. I wasn’t. She fell onto my lap and I grabbed her to keep her from tumbling onto the floor. I guess my hand ended up on her chest in the chaos. I don’t know. I grabbed without noticing where. I don’t even know. Someone snapped pictures right then. That’s all it was. An innocent moment blown out of proportion. I told Amie a long time ago that I belong to you so she and I could work together, but that’s it. I swear nothing happened. Nothing will happen. You’re the only one for me.” He squeezed her tight and inhaled her scent desperately.
“Problem here?” Ryker approached, intimidating in his security shirt. He looked them up and down.