Irina's POV
Flynn seemed completely clueless about my mood—totally oblivious to the tension radiating off me.
Here in Hillview, when the temperature dropped, locals had this tradition of gathering around bubbling seafood boils. They'd dump in fresh shrimp and clams, then drown everything in that addictive garlic butter sauce from Anastasia that lingered on your tongue for hours.
The second steam started rising from the pot, Flynn dove in with the seafood. "Hey Irina, you want some of these shrimp? What about crab legs? I'm loading you up here. And these mussels—trust me, they're incredible once they soak up all that flavor."
Flynn rattled on without pause, barely giving me space to breathe, let alone respond. I just nodded along.
My bowl quickly transformed into a towering heap of food.
When I finally leaned down to take a bite, my hair kept sliding forward, getting in the way and driving me crazy.
