Inked By My Best Friend's Dad

Is that really his—

Oh dear lord, of course, it is.

I’m trying not to look at his huge bulge, but if my grade school biology doesn’t fail me, I think he’s either happy to see me or just having a man moment.

But of course, he would never look at a girl like me in that way. And before I know it, Tasha has gone inside, and although I should be happy to be alone with Slade, my anxiety just builds.

I’m sure I come across as Tasha’s fat friend.

The socially awkward one he used to see when he dropped his daughter off or would come over to hang out.

There’s something in his eyes though, as well as his pants that make me shiver.

But maybe he’s just enjoying his birthday, I dunno.

I remember hearing somewhere that some guys can get even off on working out like literally get hard afterward or even during.

I wonder if Slade would mind if I happened by sometime when he was working out next time.

My head spins when he says he can’t wait to open what I’ve brought him, even though I explained it's Tasha’s gift, not mine.

But he seems satisfied anyway, and even after Tasha calls us both in, Slade seems to linger a moment before urging me to go on ahead of him.

I can feel his eyes on me, but instead of making me feel self-conscious, I feel strangely comforted by his stare. It’s not the kind I’m used to, or maybe it’s all in my head.

To me, everything the man does just pushes that button between my legs.

Pushes it to its breaking point without him even laying a finger on me.

“What’s with you two?” Tasha asks, grabbing my arm once I’m inside.

Sounding more than just a little miffed.

“What do you mean?” I ask, but Slade’s already sidled up beside me.

“I was just telling Abby how lucky she is to have a best friend like you, sweetheart,” he says with pride in his voice that only a father could muster.

It’s all Tasha needs to hear. She loosens her grip on my arm and she blushes. Promising me that her dad isn’t always this weird as she drags me over to meet everyone.

And by everyone, I mean the cast from a teen horror flick.

The one where a gang of rogue bikers appears from the darkness, and starts offing petrified college girls as they try to roast wieners over an open fire somewhere deep in the woods.

“They’re harmless,” Slade whispers in my ear.

Leaning down for my benefit as I realize he hasn’t left my side for a second since we stepped inside.

I jump a little, feeling his huge hand on the small of my back as he guides me through the small crowd.

Between the two of them, Tasha and Slade introduce me to what I can tell are lifelong friends.

And more than anything, I feel bad for judging books by their covers.

As someone who’s been teased my whole life for how I look, it's humble pie for me as I meet some of the nicest people around.

I decline a drink, but Slade offers to get me some water.

I’m inclined to follow him, like iron filings drawn to a magnet. But that would be weird right?

But I already crave being close to him, having that huge hand of his touching me.

I manage to stay put, especially once I see Tasha giving me a strange look again. Like the one she gave me earlier.

I open my mouth to say something. Anything to break her intense stare, but her phone goes off, saving me in the process.

Although I can’t hear it over the gruff voices and laughter in the room, I can tell by the way Tasha’s face changes that she’s getting the call she’s been waiting for.

Brad.

Okay, Brad. So I owe ya one. But just one.

In a second, Tasha has forgotten all about whatever was on in her mind regarding me and her dad and has disappeared out back.

A finger in one ear and her phone against the other as she gushes whatever it is she talks to that guy about, leaving me alone again.

In a room full of friendly bikers, no one really notices me past the “Hi, I’m Abby” stage.

Slade reappears though, and as if by magic he hands me a bottle of water while guiding me from the living room and into the kitchen.

“It’s a little crowded out there. They’ll simmer down a bit after they’ve eaten,” he explains knowingly.

“I thought you’d be out there wanting to party too?” I ask half-heartedly.

Slade doesn’t seem like the partying type. And I’m right.

He shrugs a little, then smiles. His smile lighting up the room as well as my heart.

“I’m a little past that sort of thing,” he assures me, looking suddenly self-conscious.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he murmurs. “I was just about to have a shower and change before this lot arrived.”