Flynn: No. It’s been a long day, that’s all.
It’s mid-afternoon, but he’s been up since dawn.
Jimmy: I don’t mind. You can crash on my sofa if you’re too tired to drive home.
I’ve hit send before I realise what I’ve said. My sofa. The one we fucked on.
Flynn: I’ll come for a bit. I won’t stay late. Is that okay?
Phew. At least my stupid suggestion hasn’t put him off.
Jimmy: That’s fine.
Flynn: I’ll come over after I’m done for the day.
Jimmy: Looking forward to it.
Flynn: Me too.
Flynn arrives around seven, which is later than I was expecting. I’m not a farm expert, but I'm familiar with Angus’ schedule on the farm before Flynn took over. Although I guess it’s different. Angus helped out around uni, whereas it’s a full-time job for Flynn. He has a lot more to do.
“Congrats on finishing your exams.” He hands me a white paper bag.
I open it, inhaling the sweet scent of millionaire’s shortbread before I see it. I hug him, as I did on Saturday night before he left. A quick, one-hundred per cent platonic hug. He winces.
I frown, releasing him. “Are you okay?”
He touches his shoulder blade with his opposite hand. “Yeah. I think I pulled a muscle or something. It’s a bit sore.”
I gesture to the lounge. “Well, in that case, you should enter my surgery and let Doctor Jimmy take care of it for you.”
He arches a brow. “Doctor Jimmy?”
“One of my optional modules was on supporting injured athletes. I also spent the last two summers working at a sports physio centre. I learnt a thing ortwo about massages.” I crack my knuckles and wiggle my fingers at him.
He looks uncertain.
“It’ll help. I promise.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t sound convinced.
“Sit on the floor in front of the sofa.”
He does as I’ve asked without any hesitation or second-guessing. It’s me who pauses. It would be best if he were lying down, but I don’t have a massage table. I need to be able to apply firm pressure through his shoulder, which requires the advantage of height.
“Something wrong?” he asks, staring at me.
“No.” I sit behind him on the sofa, my legs on either side of him—my pulse quickens. Breathing becomes hard. “Is this okay?” My voice is a little strangled.
He glances from side to side at my thighs. “Yeah,” his voice is even softer.
“This shoulder?” I touch his right shoulder.
“Yes.”
“It will be a little uncomfortable.”
“Okay.”
