CRAVING MY BEST FRIEND'S FATHER

The music beats through my chest as I throw my head back and laugh at some stupid joke Josh, one of the football guys, just told. My best friend, Lena's living room is packed with girls from the soccer team dancing close to the beat, guys shouting over the speakers, and red cups spilling everywhere.

Lena is right beside me with her arm around my shoulders as we shout out lyrics at the very top of our voices.

"Another round?!" she yells in my ear, her breath smelling like cheap booze.

"Hell yes!" I shout back. I grab her hand and pull her toward the kitchen.

We pour tequila straight into our cups and clink them before throwing them back. The burn hits my throat, but I smile through it, feeling unstoppable. Parties like this let me forget everything.

Everything like the massive crush I've had on my best friend's father since the day he saw me crying on our front porch because some dumb jocks had pushed me around. I was 14 then and was trying to impress a bunch of the cool kids who had later laughed in my face and stolen my lunch money.

I catch sight of Cole Fletcher sometimes when he's home. Sneaking glances at his tall build that towers over me, that stern mouth as he tells us get to bed and those serious eyes of his as they bore right through me… but I always push the feeling away. Or at least try to.

As if reading my mind, the front door opens, and Mr. Fletcher walks in earlier than expected with his keys in one hand. The room quiets a little as he looks around, his face changing from tired to strict. He was probably out with friends after some meeting, having a few drinks, and now he's home, ready to end the party.

"Alright, party's over," he says, his voice clear over the music. "Everyone out. I refuse to be responsible for teenage drinking and possible pregnancies."

People groan, but they start grabbing their things. Lena pouts, swaying as she hugs me goodbye. "Text me tomorrow, 'kay? Love you."

"Love you more," I say, watching her stumble up the stairs. She'll be asleep before she hits the mattress.

The house clears fast under Cole's stare as doors slam, and cars start outside. I stay in the kitchen, pretending to pick up cups, but really my heart is pounding. He and I are the only ones awake right now. What if I just go talk to him?

I hear him downstairs locking doors, then his footsteps coming up, and before long, his bedroom door clicks shut at the end of the hall. The house is quiet except for the fridge humming downstairs and Lena snoring lightly in her room. I know I shouldn't, but my feet move anyway, carrying me down the hall quietly. His door is slightly open, and a dim light is coming out from inside.

I push it open gently.

The shower is running in the attached bathroom, with steam slipping in from under the door. The room smells like him – clean laundry and that faint masculine scent he always carries after being out. My head spins a little from the drinks as the alcohol makes me feel a lot braver than I am.

I close the door behind me with a soft click.

"Lena?" Cole calls from the bathroom over the water. "That you? I was out with the guys and had a few too many. My head's killing me. Grab what you need quietly and leave quietly, alright?"

I clear my throat slightly. “Um… Lena's asleep in her room, Mr. Fletcher.”

There’s a brief pause before water stops and soon, the bathroom door opens. He steps out with his hair wet and messy, wearing only a towel low around his hips as water droplets run down his chest and over his abs. Those gorgeous fucking abs I’ve only ever seen on hot summer days when he'd take Lena and I to the pool.

When he sees me, his eyes widen slightly.

"Riley." He says my name like he's not sure. "Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, Mr. Fletcher,” I say stepping away from the door and moving closer slowly, the alcohol giving me enough confidence to make a mistake I’d probably regret tomorrow. "Just couldn't leave without saying goodnight."

He swallows hard but doesn't step back. Water drips from his hair onto his shoulders. "You should go home. You're drunk."

"So are you," I say, closing the space until I'm standing right in front of him. I reach up and brush a drop of water off his chest. His skin feels warm and solid. "But you don't actually want me to go, do you? Not really."

He catches my hand and holds it against him, his grip firm but not pushing me away. "Riley, this isn't smart."

I tilt my head and look up at him. "Who said anything about being smart?" My other hand slides up his arm, feeling the muscle tighten. "I've wanted this for so long. Haven't you?"

His breath catches and his eyes drop to my lips. "You're Lena's best friend. This... we can't."

"But we want to." I rise on my toes and brush my mouth along his jaw, tasting the salt on his skin. He makes a low sound, and his hand lets go of mine to hold the back of my neck, tilting my head.

"God, Riley." His voice is rough with want. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." I press my body against his, feeling his arousal through the towel. "So fucking sure."