What happened that night, the night I just wanted to get a burger and a drink, was exactly what I said I wasn’t going to do. I was a glutton for punishment when it came to charm. Flynn was everything that I’d fantasized about. He was funny and charming, he had a playful banter with me all night, and even though I knew I should go back to the house, I stayed until closing. The sexual tension was thick, like a warm blanket, and I couldn’t stop my body from reacting to him. When the lights were turned out, and it was just he and I, with nothing else but the quiet hum of the bar equipment and a soft glow in the distance from a sign in the window, I abandoned my reservations.

The way my body reacted to him was unparalleled. I wasn’t particularly experienced. I dated quite a bit back home, but had only slept with two people in my life before that night. As he roamed my body with his hands, and his lips, I lost all sense of what I should do in my head, and let my body respond. And did it ever. No one had ever gone down on me before, and having my legs wrapped around him as he pleasured me, just for me, I lost control. He knew how to push my limits far enough that I let go, screaming out his name, sprawled across a cooler. He wasn’t done with me yet though.

After I had my mind blown,using only his mouth and hands, he made me cry out all over again when he fucked me on that same cooler. It was different than just a fuck, though. It was heated and passionate, but he never once took his lips off me. He had an animalistic need for me that left me moaning, clawing at his back as he thrust into me; but also a gentle desire, that made me feel sexy and wanted for more. He inhaled against my neck and whispered to me how beautiful I am, and how good I felt. Communicating with me verbally, and physically, I was connected and in sync with him, until my body couldn’t hold back any longer and I climaxed, groaning his name and crying out in ecstasy.

Knowing full well, once it was over, that it was probably a mistake to fuck a stranger in a bar, I immediately panicked and looked for an escape plan. I wasn’t going to give him my name; I didn’t want him to be able to find me afterwards, especially after blowing my mind like he did. I knew that I’d be addicted to that kind of passion, and that was a terrible idea. My summer was supposed to be about reflection, and that house, not about a summer fling. Once he released his hold on me physically, I scrambled to get my clothes back on.

“Wait, slow down,” he said, grabbing my hand as I started to round the bar, looking for my shirt in the dark.

“I gotta go, Flynn,” I uttered in a hushed tone, trying to get my eyes to readjust to the light.

“Why do you have to go?” he asked urgently, still holding my hand. “Stay here and talk to me. Come home with me. But don’t go.”

“I have to.” I yanked my hand away, and thankfully found my shirt just on the other side of the bar, next to his. As I finished getting dressed quickly, shoving my feet in my shoes, his figure rounded the bar as well, coming toward me. He loomed closer, my heart racing as he appeared before me.

Taking my hands in his, he brought them to his lips. “Please don’t go. Tell me your name, so I can see you again,” he implored softly.

A jolt in my chest at his pleading tone almost compelled me to reveal my name, and take him up on the offer to see him again. But I didn’t. “Flynn, tonight was wonderful. But I have to go.” I backed away, letting my fingertips linger for just a moment. He held them gently while I pulled us apart, slowly, and once my hands were freed, I bolted. Practically jogging to my car, I hopped in and drove back to the house as fast as I could, without looking back.

I’d never done anything like that in my life, and I was reeling from the whole encounter. As I stared at the ceiling that night, completely unable to sleep, I wondered how I found myself in situations sometimes. Lack of self control? Desire to be with someone, sure. But I didn’t give him a chance, and as the regret of that started to creep up on me, I finally drifted off to sleep, physically exhausted from the day.

The next morning, I woke up cranky and frustrated. Not only did I want to sleep the day away, I wanted to do it in my own bed back home. This town, and my poor decisions, were hanging over my morning like a shroud. A contractor was supposed to be coming by soon, and I needed to get my ass in gear.

I stepped into the shower of what I was assuming was originally the master bathroom, as it was far larger than the other full bath. It had a pretty cool claw foot tub that needed some TLC, like everything in the house did, but it had potential. As I made a note to work on that as a little side project, I let the water fall over me like warm rain, relaxing my muscles. I smiled a bit, thinking about what fun I’d had with Flynn, and although I’d hoped not to run into him again, I certainly didn’t regret our time together. I managed to get myself lathered up with soap when the pipes started making a rattling noise.

As the noise got louder, and sounded like it was coming closer, the shower head flew off the end of the pipe, missing me by centimeters. I shrieked at the top of my lungs as a rush of water came shooting at me through the now broken pipe, full stream. It took me a moment to gain composure as the force of the water coming out was so strong that I stepped out of the way, trying to maneuver myself to the handle to turn it off. Meanwhile, water was rushing out at such a high velocity that it was splashing everywhere, in and outside of the tub.

Finally managing to get the water turned off, I stood there naked for a moment, panting from the chaos. I stepped out of the tub, directly into a puddle of water, and instead of carefully walking to the towels on the other side of the bathroom that were still dry, I tried to lean over to grab one, and slipped in the puddle, crashing to the ground like a sack of bricks. Of course this would happen; only me.

Thankfully, I didn’t hit my head and die right there, but I took a moment and simply laid where I fell. Naked and wet, on the floor of my dead grandmother’s bathroom, I stared at the ceiling. I remained still as a stone, just making sure I hadn’t hurt anything, other than my pride. After what was probably only a minute, but felt like an hour, I managed to pick myself up slowly, and crawl to where the stupid dry towel was sitting on the counter, taunting me. Still on the ground, I wrapped the towel around me and assessed the damage to the room. It practically flooded in a matter of moments; everything was soaked. Not to mention, I hadn’t really cleaned up any of the old dust yet prior to using the bathroom, so it was also filthy.

Shaking my head at the shambles before me, I used the countertop to lift myself up off the ground. A terrible pain in my hip from the fall kicked in, and I leaned over to rest my head in my hands for a moment. What the hell am I doing? I said to myself. Groaning with every step, I was slowly making my way to the bedroom to dry off and get dressed, when the doorbell rang.

“Oh, what the hell,” I muttered, turning around and hobbling down the stairs to shoo away whoever it was. I realized I was still in nothing but a towel.

“Who is it?” I yelled through the thick front door.

“Flynn Healy. The contractor you hired. I have an appointment with Jacinda? Jacinda Brennan?”

Oh fuck.