Kissing My Dad's Friend

I jerk back from his touch as though stung. “No,” I blurt, my breath coming short. I shake my head to clear it. “I mean, thank you, but… you can’t.” Whereas yesterday, I started flirting with Russ specifically so Dad would find out and get angry about it… now I don’t want Dad anywhere near this. “I told you, I can’t risk your job here.”

“And I told you, Maggie, you’re worth the risk.” He takes another step closer. He’s close enough now that the heat from his body radiates through mine. It’s hard to breathe. Hard to remember what I need to do, or why. It’s so damn hard to walk away.

“Well, I disagree.” With an enormous effort, I force my foot to move backward, and draw myself away from him.

He follows me, a small smile on his lips, just for me. “Are you saying you don’t want me to touch you ever again?” His hand hovers next to my cheek. An inch to the side and he’d be touching my skin. I could let him draw me back in. I could cave now, let him have me again. Let him fuck me like yesterday, let him touch me until I lose control again, until I have another orgasm like the one that made me cry out in that empty stairwell.

My whole body feels like one giant blush. I clear my throat, hard, to make it stop. “We can’t.”

“Yes, we can.”

I push past him, beelining up the hallway. But his voice follows me, long after I’ve disappeared around the far end of the corridor. “I’ll find a way to convince you, Maggie Owens. Mark my words.”

Oh, I do. And I can’t stop thinking about them, all day long.

5

Dad picks me up outside to give me a ride home after work, the same way he does every day. Or rather, the same way he insists on doing every day, as if I’m a child who can’t be trusted to take care of herself. I finish picking up the rest of my stuff from the staff room and trudge out to the parking lot, my shoulders slumped. All day I dodged sideways comments and openly hostile glares from my coworkers. The word has gotten around by now, that I only have 3 patients on my rotation, while everyone else has upwards of dozens.

It’s not fair, they say, over and over, whenever I’m within hearing, and probably even more when I’m not. What I don’t say, what I can’t say back, is that I agree with them. It’s not fair. I wish Dad would come around on this.

But as I slide into the passenger seat, ready to argue with him again, the look on his face stops me dead. He’s wearing his serious, prepare for battle face. “Who died?” I ask grimly, buckling myself in.

Dad’s eyes narrow. “Nobody. Your mother called. She’s hosting a party tonight, so I’ll need you to continue to be on your… well, clearly not your best behavior, but better behavior than you’ve been on for the rest of the day thus far,” he grumbles.

I roll my eyes. “You can control my schedule and my job and my life, Dad, but unfortunately for you, you cannot control my emotions. I know you’d really love to be able to. Tough break.”

“It’s part of your job to provide a welcoming and enjoyable atmosphere for your patients at the hospital. I spoke to the Hartford boy you’ve been assigned to look after. His parents are not happy with the attitude you’ve been bringing along with you whenever you visit his room. If that’s an indicator of how you plan to handle these three patients for the rest of the week, then maybe I shouldn’t have even given you this miniscule of a job.”

I groan. As if taking away the real work wasn’t bad enough. “Dad, everyone already hates me for getting special treatment from you. They think I asked to be given a lighter workload, that I’m enjoying this.”

“Well, it’s up to you to turn your own prospects around. Now, about dinner. There will be about ten people coming over. Your mother wants barbecue, so we’re going to stop at the butchers on the way home. If you have any other requests, we can make a grocery store run as well…” He trails off, muttering under his breath. I know he’s going into over-planning land.

My dad even likes to micromanage things like parties. It’s why my mom gives him specific tasks, like dealing with the BBQ and the cooking. Not only does she know he loves grilling, but she also knows he’ll focus all his OCD tendencies on the dinner and leave her alone to prepare the drinks and the decor and the music—you know, all the fun parts of a party. Dad’s not exactly great at the whole letting loose and having fun thing.