Her Best Friend's Dad

by Penny Wylder

  The colors of the floral arrangement remind me of something, and I snatch off a velveteen petal from a lily to carry its indigo beauty with me to gallery’s front parlor. There, surrounding the shattered glass and mirrors forming a giant compound eye, are the same shades of night sky as the flowers. I tuck the petal into a gap between a gear and nail. If this piece doesn’t sell, I will try to preserve the flowers and attach them somehow. For me, it will always be the piece that witnessed my first kiss with Beck.

  “That’s interesting.” A guy about my age is looking in the mirrors, reading the card posted beside the piece. If not for Beck, I could see myself being interested in this guy. He’s tall, well-built, and has the sort of jawline and sleepy eyes that always caught my attention during college. I explain to him about the recordings and show him how it works. “Are you the artist?” he asks.

  “Yes, she is.” Beck is suddenly beside me, a shadow beyond my shoulder. “Lia is very talented.” He is gone just as quickly, but I can smell him long after the admirer has moved on to get a drink and chat with a gallery employee around my age. He was scared off by Beck, it seems. My feelings for him and my dedication to Tasha distract me, and it’s harder to focus on being truly present at the show.

  Going back to the sculpture, I peer into the mirrors and straighten my blouse and skirt. I toy with one long curl that has escaped my updo, and I mentally paint a smile onto my face before making my muscles move to match the mental image. Fake it until you make it…

  I don’t see Beck again at the show; I’m kept busy with making rounds to talk to prospective buyers and am led by my father to a journalist who is doing a review of my work for the newspaper. It’s been months since I felt a glimmer of hope in my art, and now I feel like a fucking rock star. Buoyant and joyful, I bounce from group to group until the last person leaves and the gallery owner has started to turn off lights. I’m disappointed that Beck didn’t find me to say goodbye before he left, but I know he was exhausted from traveling. At least I get to see him at work tomorrow.

  “Lia, what are your thoughts on the show?” the owner asks.

  “I think it went great. I know at least a few pieces sold.”

  The woman laughs and shows me a stack of receipts. “I have seventeen sales slips here, Lia. You killed it tonight. Do you think you can have enough new pieces for next season’s lineup? We have a few weekend openings for a show. If you want to come in on Monday, we can compare schedules and settle up on what we owe you for the pieces.”

  Agreeing, I dance past my portraits and sculptures on my way out the door. Tasha is waiting on me outside and is the first to hear the great news. “They want me back in four months for another show! I sold all but like four pieces!”

  Excited for me, Tasha decides we need to celebrate. At least that’s her excuse for not going home yet. Chris is at a party, and after making sure it’s okay for us to crash, we head north. As nice as it is to just lean back into her heated seats and let Tasha drive, I miss having my own car. I miss not needing to borrow one or worry about transportation. Most of all, I miss the sensation of the night air blowing through my hair.

  “You are going to look like a troll doll or like you’re doing the walk of shame if you keep that up, Lia. I forgot you are part dog with your need to stick your head out the window on the freeway,” Tasha teases. I can hear in her voice that she’s rolling her eyes at me. I don’t mind. It’s such a gorgeous night, and my heart is light with how well things are turning out.

  My fingers smooth my hair back into the clip, and I sing along to the radio with Tasha. It’s easy to forget my worries when I’m with her.

  We’re both laughing and more like the us we were before I went to art school. Walking into the stranger’s house glued at the hip, I feel nothing but joy even as I’m abandoned when she goes to find Chris. There are photographs on the wall and tons of symbols, and it takes a while for me to realize we are at a frat house. I avoided them during my years in college, and I’m not thrilled to be at this one now, but to see Tasha so happy, I can deal with almost anything. I perch on the arm of the couch beside them as she sits in Chris’s lap, and we’re chatting about the show, about life… It’s a near perfect ending to the day.

  The music changes from something techno to something better for dancing, and Tasha is up and grabbing my hands before I even recognize the song. “Let’s dance, Lia!” Her moods are more up and down than mine!

  I barely have a chance to close my water bottle before we find our way on to the dance floor. My skirt isn’t really meant for this, and when I spin, I know I’m showing more thigh than I intend. It’s so easy to lose myself in the beat when Tasha is laughing in front of me.

  Chris joins us, arms around Tasha, as the music becomes something a bit more intimate. The three of us dance, and they’re almost grinding. I back up a bit, feeling like a third wheel for the first time since arriving. Looking around for a dance partner or a way to escape, I catch the eye of the guy I met earlier at the gallery. He lifts his chin and winks, draining a beer in one chug before coming over.

  “I’m Gary. You’re the art girl.” He slides around me, hips and shoulders swaying with the music. It’s a move meant more for a club than a house party, but I’m not looking for someone who can do more than entertain me while I’m here.

  “Lia,” I half-yell into his ear so I can be heard.

  We dance, and despite how the other couples on the floor are dancing, I try to keep a bit of distance between us. He grabs onto my hips a few times, and each time I spin away. I’m not interested in what he’s offering. I don’t want to be rude and make a scene, but I try to make my intentions clear. I move away again, bumping into the wall as he comes nearer.

  “Come on, baby.” Gary reaches for the edge of my skirt and rubs the inside of my thigh. I panic, heart racing, as I try to find an escape. “We should celebrate you doing that art thing. There’s a free bedroom upstairs.” I don’t want to go anywhere with Gary, but he is drunk enough that he thinks I’m merely playing hard to get. “I can show you the kind of art I make, Lia. I bet I can do all sorts of things with my tongue you’ve never experienced.” He reeks of beer, and I freeze as his hand moves up higher.

  “The lady has made it clear you aren’t wanted.” We both turn at the voice, and I see Beck’s fist come at Gary’s face before he does. It connects with a snap, making Gary collapse in a heap. I’m in too much shock to process what is happening, as I’m lead outside. It’s Beck, though, and I trust him to keep me safe.

  Tasha follows us outside, upset at her father’s disruption of the party. “That guy was pawing at Lia even after she told him ‘no,’” he says. “If you’d kept your phone on as promised, Tasha Marie, I wouldn’t have had to track you down to find the two of you. Be home by one; I’ll get Lia home. We can talk then.” Beck is calm despite the rage in his eyes, and his hand is a vice around my wrist. “You might want to get that dipshit some ice.”

  I scurry to keep up with Beck’s long stride, and he not only opens the truck door for me, he lifts me up into the truck and reaches in to buckle the seatbelt for me. “Did he hurt you?” Beck’s hands coast over my skin without really touching. It’s maddening.

  Shaking my head, I tell him I’m okay. I am okay. I’m quivering, but it’s mostly from the adrenaline rush of watching Beck punch someone. He climbs in on his side and pulls away from the curb, barely looking at the road as he reassures himself that I’m fine.

  My voice is soft, almost reverent, when I can speak. “You protected me.”

  Beck’s hand is warm as he wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me a bit closer in the cab of his pickup. “I always will.” The promise in his words has me near tears.

  “Lia, I haven’t stopped thinking about you, about us. Memories of our night on the roof drove me crazy the entire time I was away. Work called while I was at the gallery, and it had to be dealt with. I was on the phone in my car when you and Tasha left. I had to talk to you, and so I follo
wed you to the party. I wasn’t going to interfere with you and that guy, not if it looked like you wanted him. When he started forcing you, however…” Beck trails off, hands tensing on the wheel. “I couldn’t stop myself, Lia.” His fingers move to the back of my neck, kneading while he drives. I don’t know how he can focus on doing both so well. “I promised to show you how much I missed you. That kiss on your cheek was nowhere near enough. And when I saw you with that boy… I wanted to show him that you’re mine.”

  Stumbling over the words, I explain how I was only dancing. “And what if Tasha asks why you were there, why you hit that guy?” Will she know about us? Will there be repercussions at work? I like my job too much to cause trouble for him, for us, there. And there is my father to worry about… Beck lets me ramble for the entire drive, and he pulls off into the parking lot of the park I’d escaped to the day of our garage kiss.

  “Lia.” He whispers my name, stopping my tirade. “You are better at putting your feelings into art instead of words; you always have been.” The hand he had kept on the steering wheel reaches for my chin, turning me to face him. “My feelings are better shown in actions. Let me show you how I feel.” He pulls me to him, seatbelts straining as our lips meet.

  It’s just like before: need blossoms in each stroke of his mouth on mine, and I can’t get close enough. I inhale as he exhales, and vice versa, and I’m dizzy when we finally part to catch our breath. Cold after sharing like that, my lungs burn with the effect. Forehead to forehead, we pant before tilting our heads to claim one another in a second kiss.

  My hands move to his hair, and his slide down to my waist before blindly pawing at the seatbelt until the catch releases. I’m in his arms, and if not for the center console between the seats, I’d probably be in his lap. If I end up there, we’ll end up with the seat down flat and doing way more than making out in the truck. Beck’s hands slide up and under my shirt, and I am so close to trying to find a way to sneak him home and into my room. My room that is past my father’s, where he’s likely waiting up for me…

  I break away from the kiss. We can’t get caught. Police sometimes patrol this park, and my dad likes to jog down this street. He would recognize Beck’s truck… All the questions I’ll have, the fighting. I know exactly what my dad will say. How Beck is too old for me, how I’m too young to be doing this.

  “Do you want me as badly as I want you, Lia?” Beck can barely get out the words between gasping breaths, and he’s covering his crotch with his hands, hiding his erection or adjusting it. It’s hard to tell in the darkness.

  I can’t reply. I’m so torn on what the right thing to do is. I want him. No; I need him, but it’s so difficult to know if what we’re doing is right. It feels right.

  “It’s clear that you want me. I can tell in your kiss, by the way you look at me, the trust you have in me.” Beck’s breath fans out over my forehead in a warm puff before he kisses the skin between my brows, my nose, and then my lips. He pulls back enough to look at the house with its porch light on. “You are an adult—a gorgeous, grown woman, who drives me so crazy with want and lust that I could fuck you right here on the hood of my truck- and what the hell can anyone do to stop us?”

  His hands grasp mine and pull them to his lap where I can feel his hard-on. “This is what just being near you does to me. It’s the Lia effect. If I so much as think about you, and I’m so hard it feels like my balls could burst. Every night I was away I would take a shower and stroke myself as I thought about us. I saved a screenshot of you as you finger fucked yourself while talking to me, and I jacked off a few times looking at your face as you came. I want to make love to you in my bed and wake up with your hair in my face and an arm thrown across my chest. I want to see where this can go. Do you want that? Your dad can’t stop us. You are an adult, Lia.”

  I’m turned on, and uneasy about all of this. Getting caught by my dad is terror-inducing, even as an adult. I am still living beneath his roof… It’s not so much about dad, however, and more about Tasha. I start to try and explain it to Beck, about my promise to Tasha, and he silences me with a kiss.

  “I want you. You want me. If you tell me that you don’t want me for your own sake, not for anyone else’s, I’ll believe you and let this go.”

  His cock is tenting his pants, and I find myself stroking it through the fabric despite knowing I shouldn’t tease. “I want you. Want this.” I motion between us as I speak.

  Beck nods and cups the back of my head before kissing me softly. “Then nothing is going to get between us.”

  “There’s clothing between us,” I tease.

  “Let me fix that.” Beck is out of the truck and around to my door in the time it takes me to shimmy out of my panties and kick them off onto the floorboard. “Come here.” He grabs me around the waist and carries me to the front of his truck, and leans me against the hood. “I’d never fucked outside before you. You’re getting all sorts of firsts out of me, Lia.”

  The merry-go-round creaks in the night breeze, a ghostly melody in counterpoint to the ragged breaths we share. “I was at this park after our kiss in the garage. This is where I ran to.”

  He nods and leans in for a kiss. “I know,” Beck whispers along my cheek. The scrape of his teeth on my earlobe makes everything tighten in me, and he laughs as my legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer. “This was always your place when you wanted to think. I found you asleep on that bench when you were told about your mom’s cancer being terminal. I picked you up, not like this,” he whispers, “and carried you home.”

  “I was lighter then.”

  “But you did not have these fabulous tits or this delicious pussy then.” Beck’s hands squeeze my breasts, making them pop up out of my dress’s low neckline. He growls, “You’re perfect,” against my stomach as he pushes me flat, and I’m not given a chance to ask what he’s doing before his mouth is on me.

  Mouth and fingers move in tandem, seeking my pleasure. Hard and fast, he takes me to the edge twice before I beg him to let me come. His mouth covers my clit, tongue and lips teasing me as two fingers inside me become three. It’s too much, and the pressure builds until I’m biting my own hand to keep from crying out.

  Seeking fingers work up my body to my breast, pinching until I can’t hold back the moans. My nipples are so hard they ache in the night air, and his hand is warm despite the delicious torment of each twist. He’s a musician in this, playing my body like an instrument.

  When I come, it’s almost a relief when the pleasure ebbs. I’m still shaking when he moves up and into me. If his fingers felt good inside me, they’re nothing compared to his cock.

  “Fuck, how I missed this, being inside you.” He thrusts, pulling me down the truck’s hood until he’s so deep inside me that I feel the stretch everywhere.

  Beck makes good on his promise to make sure I know how much he missed me. His pants are still on, and my skirt is just hiked up out of his way, but it adds to the moment. We can’t get enough of each other. The night birds bear witness to our frenzied passion, listening as I try to stifle my groans.

  “I missed you, too,” I say between his thrusts.

  The pleasure is dizzying, and when he finally trembles on top of me, coming with a sigh, I almost wish I had the energy to climax again. I hate that we have to rush, but I am getting cold on the truck despite the warmth still radiating through the hood. “Can we get back in the truck? I’m freezing.”

  We stumble back to our seats, and I manage to get my underwear back on. “I’m touched that you’re worried about my upholstery, Lia.” He’s still trying to fix his belt as he restarts the engine, and the fumbling is so cute that I laugh until a yawn interrupts me. “Let’s get you home, Lia. You’ve had a big night.”

  I protest that he had a longer day and he stops me with a soft kiss. “Totally worth it.”

  The drive to my home is filled with soft touches and shy smiles. We’re still not sure how to interact in ways that doesn’t involve fucking. I
don’t know if we should even do that, but Beck is impossible to resist—even if I wanted to, which I don’t. He makes me feel like a princess, a desirable princess. The thought of going into the house and leaving his side makes my heart ache.

  “I should go in.” I don’t mean the words, and kissing him in front of my house is dangerous and exciting. It would only take my dad or Jean one glance outside, and we’d be discovered. Glancing at the window, I try to remember if that light was on when we first pulled up…

  We kiss again, and keep at it until my lips feel swollen and it’s hard to think about anything but the desire to go home with Beck and sleep in his bed.

  “If you kiss me like that again, you’ll never get inside,” he groans. “For now, though, you should probably get your amazing ass to bed. We both have to be to work tomorrow for the Friday morning meeting, and if I don’t let you go now, we’re going to end up late to work because we stay up fucking all night. I really am jet-lagged, too,” he admits.

  I open my door and stumble out. “Text me when you get home?” It sounds needy, but I want to make sure he gets home safely.

  Beck smiles and blows me a kiss. “Anything you want. See you in the morning, Lia.”

  I make it across the yard and into the house, glad that my dad and Jean are in the den in the back of the house instead of the living room up front. Both are wrapped up in a television show and eating popcorn, not noticing me. My stomach churns at the smell, and my mouth salivates as I try to squeak out the words that I’m home. I run through the house to the bathroom, and I fall to my knees as the appetizers I’d nibbled on at the gallery all come rushing up.

  Sweat beads up on my face as I heave, and I flush the toilet before crawling to the sink. I’m glad I keep the bathrooms clean as part of my chores. I don’t even bother standing up as I reach for a paper cup of water and grab a hand towel from the stack beneath the sink. The dizziness I felt earlier has gotten worse with my vomiting. Panic sets in as my stomach protests even the smallest sip of water. Everything tastes like the awful smell of microwave popcorn.