I Slept With My Best Friend's Father At Christmas

APRIL’S POV Okay, the first thing I noticed was how he smelled. Honestly, it threw me. It was not that cheap body spray all the guys at school drown themselves in, or even the stale beer smell of the bar. No, he smelled of clean soap and something else, something uniquely masculine and simply expensive. You know? It was the scent of a real man, not a boy. And then his eyes. They were this sharp, intelligent blue, crinkled at the corners. And so familiar it made my head spin. They were Ashley’s eyes, I realized with a jolt. But as if Ashley were a forty year old corporate god who happened to be slumming it in a dive bar on a Tuesday night. Go figure. “Rough day” His voice was a low rumble, the kind that cuts through a thumping bassline and vibrates in your chest. I turned to face him, and suddenly my little black dress felt less like armor and more like a flimsy costume. He was just leaning against the scarred up bar, completely at ease, his gaze locked on me. He was so solid. Real. His simple dark blazer suit looked entirely out of place in a sea of flannel. And the silver at his temples. In that moment, it was honestly the sexiest thing I had ever seen. “Something like that” I managed to get out, though my voice sounded strangled. “It is my birthday.” A slow, devastating smile spread across his face. “Ah. So is this a celebration, then. Or a commiseration” “A bit of both, I think” I admitted. And for the first time in hours, a real, fragile smile touched my lips. “What is the name. I am Leo.” “Leo, huh. I am Anabel” I lied. My real name sounded too innocent, like the naive girl I had been just hours ago. Five Hours Earlier You ever have a moment that just feels perfect. That final bell of the day, the last bell of our entire high school lives, rang, and it sounded like angels singing hallelujah. I am not even kidding. A wave of pure, unfiltered freedom washed over the senior class hallway. It was chaos, but the best kind. Everyone was screaming, signing yearbooks, making summer plans. The air was thick with Axe body spray, ambition, and the sweet, cloying smell of something ending. Me. I, April Watson, was officially eighteen. An adult. That word felt like a key finally turning in a lock I had been rattling my whole life. I was free. Blissfully and completely free. “Do you not want to bottle this feeling” my best friend, Ashley yelled right in my ear, her arm slung around my shoulder. “The smell of cheap perfume and existential dread is finally over. We have escaped the hive.” “The only thing I want to bottle is the look on Mr. Henderson’s face when I never have to dissect a frog again” I shot back, grinning so wide my cheeks hurt. This was it. The horizon was wide open, and it belonged to us. And it was the start of the best birthday ever. The plan was perfect. We had worked it out over weeks of whispered conversations. My boyfriend Jason was supposed to meet us at my locker. We would take a million goofy we are free pictures with Ashley, and then the three of us would head to Mario’s for pizza. After that was the big secret party Jason had been hinting at for weeks. He had been so mysterious about it, saying things like You are going to die, April. It is going to be the best night of your life. “Where is he, anyway” Ashley asked, her brow furrowing as she scanned the thinning crowd. “If he makes you wait on your actual birthday, I am revoking his boyfriend privileges. Permanent ban.” “He texted like twenty minutes ago” I said, pulling out my phone with its sparkly new birthday case. “Said he had to grab something from the gym and to meet him there. He is probably setting up some big cheesy surprise. You know how he gets.” Ashley wiggled her eyebrows. “Maybe he is going to prompose. A year too late, but whatever. I hope he has the whole team there with those little foam fingers.” I rolled my eyes, but honestly, a little flutter of anticipation went through me. Jason had been a little distant lately. But I figured it was just senior year stress. All this secret planning had to be for something good. The halls near the gym were silent, a world away from the chaos we had left. Our footsteps echoed in a way that felt almost sacred, and a little eerie. The gym doors were closed, but not completely. A sliver of light cut across the floor like a warning. “Maybe he is with the basketball team” Ashley whispered, her eyes mischievous. “A coordinated dance number. I hope so. You know Jason has two left feet. This is going to be gold.” I pushed the door open slowly. The heavy metal groaned. And the scene inside did not unfold like a movie. It felt like a nightmare in slow motion, every detail burning itself into my mind. There was no dance team. No Happy Birthday sign. No Jason with a rose and a sheepish grin. There was just Jason. My Jason. And Jasmine Miller, head cheerleader, with her red and white skirt pushed up around her waist as he pressed her against the blue gym mats. His letterman jacket, the one I had worn all winter, was a sad puddle on the floor next to them. The world did not even shatter. It simply stopped. The sound of their breathing, the rustle of fabric, it was the only thing in the universe. Ashley made a sound like a strangled cat. “You have got to be kidding me.” Jason’s head snapped up. His eyes went wide with panic, and they met mine. Jasmine scrambled away, completely mortified, her perfect lipstick smeared. “April. Baby, wait. It is not what it looks like” Jason said. Can you believe that. The line was so cliche it would have been funny if my heart was not trying to claw its way out of my chest. I just stared. I saw everything with this strange, detached clarity. The scuff on his sneaker. Jasmine’s ruined lipstick. The ridiculous grinning wildcat mascot on the wall. All the promises. The I love yous. The plans for the summer. The secret party. This was the party. This was my birthday surprise. “It is exactly what it looks like” I said, my voice terrifyingly calm. “It looks like you are the punchline to my eighteenth birthday, Jason. Congratulations. You are a joke.” I turned around. I walked away. Ashley followed behind me, hurling creative, venomous insults, but I could not hear them over the roaring static in my ears. I did not cry. I did not scream. I just felt numb. That freedom from minutes earlier felt like a huge empty canyon now, and I was falling. Ashley caught up to me at her car. The sun was warm and cheerful. Her face was flushed with fury. “I am going to kill him. I am going to use his own shoelaces. Then I am going to bring him back to life so I can do it again, but slower.” I leaned against the hot hood of her car, the metal heating through my jeans. The sun was warm, but I felt nothing. “He promised” I whispered, the numbness starting to crack. “He promised we would do everything together this summer. Everything I wanted.” And then, a dangerous, reckless idea formed in the hollow space he had left behind. A single, defiant spark. “What did he promise you not to do” Ashley asked, her anger shifting to sharp concern. I looked at her, a grim smile on my face that did not reach my eyes. “He made me promise not to be reckless. Not to go to parties without him, not to get drunk, not to” I trailed off, the idea hardening into something sharp. “Not to talk to other guys.” Ashley’s eyes went wide. “Oh no. April, no.” “Oh yes” I said, pushing off the car, buzzing with a new unstable energy. “He broke his promise. So I am breaking mine. Every single one.” “What are you going to do” she asked, her voice mixed with horror and awe. My gaze drifted past the school gates, toward the seedy strip at the edge of town. Toward The Rusty Nail, the dive bar with the flickering sign that practically screamed bad decisions. “I am eighteen, Ashley” I said, my voice finding a strength I did not know I had. “And I am going to do everything he told me not to do. Starting today.” Back at The Rusty Nail The bartender slid a vodka cranberry toward me. The man, Leo, gestured to it. “Let me get that. A birthday gift.” “You do not have to.” “I know” he said, placing a twenty on the bar. “But I want to.” And we talked. He was sharp and witty, and he actually listened. He made me laugh. The tight, painful knot in my chest began to loosen, thread by thread. With every minute, the attraction grew, a dangerous, thrilling current pulling me under. When a slow, bluesy song came on, he held out his hand. “Dance with me” Every sensible alarm in my head was blaring. But they were drowned out by the vodka, the sheer novelty of him, and this raw desperate need to feel something other than betrayal. I placed my hand in his. A warm electric jolt rushed up my arm. “Okay.” He led me to the dance floor. He did not pull me close in a creepy way. He kept a respectful distance, one hand lightly on the small of my back. But the space between us felt alive. I was hyper aware of the heat of his palm through my dress, the way his scent wrapped around me. We moved together in a simple sway. My head only reached his shoulder. I had to tilt my head back to look at him. His blue eyes were dark in the low light, fixed on me with an intensity that made my breath catch. “You are a good dancer” I said. It felt like a stupid thing to say. A slow, devastating smile spread across his face. “I have my moments.” Then he spun me gently, and I laughed, a real surprised sound, as I landed back against his chest. This time, he did not let the space return. His arm settled around me, keeping me there. And it felt dangerously right. The heartbreak, the graduation, the future, it all melted into a distant hum. There was only the music, his warmth, and the thrilling safety of his arms. When the song ended, we stood there a second too long, neither of us wanting the spell to break. “It is getting late” he said, his voice huskier than before. “Can I call you a cab. Make sure you get home safely” Home. The word was like ice water. The thought of going back to my childhood room, with all its memories of him, felt impossible. That was not where I was meant to be. Not tonight. I looked up at him, at this handsome grown man whose eyes actually saw me. And I made a decision that was terrifying and entirely inevitable. I shook my head, my heart hammering. “I do not want to go home.” His gaze deepened, filled with understanding and something else, something hot and possessive. He did not ask if I was sure. He simply nodded once, a decisive motion. “Neither do I” he said. “My car is just outside.”