MY FATHER'S FRIEND WANTS ME

Chapter Three: Against My Will

Sophia

I had walked past three blocks already, lost in my own thoughts, desperately wishing I could scrub the image of what I had just seen from my eyes and my brain. It was a miracle I hadn't been hit by a truck. The shock had seemed to mute everything around me, reducing the entire city to background noise.

It was about to rain. I didn't care.

I kept wondering what would have happened if I hadn't walked into my mom's room. Were they really about to have s*x? My mother and my father's best friend. The thought of it rose a bile in my throat.

I bumped into a stranger as I walked without direction.

"Hey, watch where you're going," he snapped. I didn't answer. I couldn't. My mouth refused to function properly.

I couldn't believe I had ever had a thing for Vicente. I couldn't believe I had been attracted to a man old enough to be my father, a man who was apparently having an affair with my mother.

You would think the attraction would die after what I saw. But instead my mind drifted somewhere I hadn't given it permission to go. I started to imagine I was the one. The one he kissed the way he had kissed her, the way his hand had pressed against her waist, pulling her close. I imagined it was me. His lips moving against mine with that same certainty, that same hunger, and my body did not bother to hide how much it wanted exactly that.

It took five full minutes before I realised what I was thinking.

I snapped back and felt immediately disgusted with myself.

My phone had been buzzing nonstop since I left the house. I had been ignoring it, already knowing it was her. I pulled it out and saw a wall of missed calls from my mom and a string of voice notes lined up underneath. I was too angry to open any of them. What could she possibly say that would justify any of it? Another notification popped up and I decided to open it this time.

*"Hey, Sophie. I'm sorry you saw that. Please, I can explain. Come home, let's talk."*

I opened the next one.

*"Please pick up. I'm sorry."*

Her call came in immediately after. I picked up. I could hear the sigh of relief from her end, the audible release of someone who had been holding their breath.

"Honey."

"Mom, how could you?"

"Sophie, I'm sorry."

"Stop saying you're sorry, Mom. It doesn't fix anything," I snapped. My voice echoed down the street and I didn't care who heard it.

"Why are you having an affair with him? You said you wanted nothing to do with Dad, and yet you're doing this with his closest friend."

She paused for a moment. "Honey, it's complicated."

"And I looked up to you, Mom." My voice cracked slightly before I steadied it. "What happened to loyalty?"

I could tell she felt remorse. But remorse still didn't justify what she had done.

"Sophie, just come home. Let's talk."

"I need space. Don't call me," I said, and hung up.

I might have overreacted. I was too angry to care either way.

When I looked around, I realised I had strayed much further from home than I had intended. I had no idea where I was, which felt strangely perfect. I would just walk until my head cooled down and the tightness in my chest loosened enough for me to breathe properly.

Two hours later I was exhausted, thirsty, and completely burnt out. The sky above me had turned a deep, bruised grey and I still had no clear sense of where I was.

Then a car pulled up in front of me and stopped. I turned. The window came down.

It was Vicente.

I rolled my eyes and kept walking, pulling every bit of nonchalance I had left around me like a coat.

"Get in," he said, watching me steadily.

I looked away. "Go away."

I kept walking. His car followed my pace without any urgency, keeping perfect time beside me like it had nowhere else to be.

"You're clearly tired. And it's about to rain."

"I don't need your help," I said, and kept moving.

Then I heard it. The clean crack of a bottle being opened. I made the mistake of turning to look, and he was holding a bottle of water out through the window. My throat was already burning, desperate for even a single drop. The thirst won decisively over the pride. I got in, snatched the bottle from his hand, and drank until it was empty.

"Take me home," I said, staring out through the passenger window.

I could feel him looking at me before he finally started the car and pulled into the traffic.

The silence between us sat heavy and uncomfortable. I wanted to confront him, but there was no way I was speaking first. He knew exactly what he had done. The conversation was his to start.

He started it.

"I'm sorry you saw that," he said, his voice perfectly calm.

I turned to him. "How could you? That was your best friend's wife."

"Ex-wife," he said.

"Seriously? That's your response?"

He said nothing more. I kept going.

"You've been loyal to my father for years. What is stopping me from telling him about this?" He turned to look at me, his eyes dark and his expression completely unreadable.

"I wouldn't do that, Sophie," he said. His voice carried the kind of quiet that was more unsettling than any raised tone.

"Or what? Are you threatening me?"

No response. His calm, composed expression was beginning to genuinely irritate me.

"You should be ashamed of yourself..." His fingers pressed gently against my lips, and the words died immediately. My body reacted before my mind could catch up. He looked at me, his other hand resting on the steering wheel.

"How does that feel?" he asked.

I hated that I understood exactly what he meant. I hated more that my body already had an answer. His hand on my lips alone had done something to me that I had absolutely no business feeling. I pulled back sharply.

"You're disgusting," I said. He smiled and returned his hand to the wheel without a word.

My phone buzzed. A voice note had come in. I looked down and saw it was from Rosa, not my mom. I played it on speaker. I knew Vicente could hear it too. I didn't care.

*"Hey girl, I hope you're fine. Just wanted to let you know we are submitting our tools for the debate tomorrow. The date was shifted. Please tell me you've already got them, otherwise we're going to fail."*

I paused the recording.

I had completely forgotten about that. What excuse could I possibly give now? I hadn't even gathered half of the money needed.

I pressed record. "Rosa, I don't have the money right now. I can't pull forty thousand dollars out of thin air in a single day, and my dad thinks I'm exaggerating. We need to find another way." I sent it and dropped the phone in my lap. I already knew Rosa would panic. We had spent months preparing for this debate, and now we were going to fall apart over equipment.

Vicente suddenly turned the car, heading off in the opposite direction. I sat up immediately.

"What are you doing?" He kept driving without answering.

"I said take me home, Vicente. Where are we going?"

His gaze stayed on the road. "Maxitoner. It's the biggest store in the city for debate equipment. We'll get everything you need there."

I stared at him.

"I don't have the money. I just said that."

He turned to look at me briefly, then back at the road.

"I'm paying,"