LILLY
Tuesday morning arrivesand after I take a quick shower, I prepare some toast and sip from my coffee. I am going to see him again. I can’t believe he’d sacrifice his free time to come volunteer.
I slip into jeans, a top, and sneakers. Opening the door, I find him with his hand raised, ready to knock. He looks spectacular in jeans and a T-shirt that covers his carved torso.
The corners of his full lips arch into a dazzling smile. I’d like to trace it with my fingertip, brush my mouth against his to memorize the shape. He has such a kissable mouth, full lips with a maddening Cupid’s bow. There’s a tingle in my fingers, in my lips. I itch and ache everywhere. I swallow the desire down, burying it low in my core.
“How are you this morning?” he asks. The low rasp I swear I can feel between my thighs, electrifies me.
“Looking forward to seeing you in a hairnet! Wondering if your ego can be knocked down a few pegs,” I say with a laugh.
“I’ll see what I can do to accommodate your wish,” Ian replies with a smirk.
Downstairs, he opens the door for me, waiting for me to walk out of the building. This friendship will cost me my heart, yet bring me the greatest joy. A contradiction I live in daily. I’ve never had a male friend before which is refreshing. With him, there’s no pressure, just the desire to spend more time together.
In the car, he starts the engine, and an eclectic playlist starts. I hum to the songs that echo in the space until we reach our destination.
The other volunteers gasp, taking him in with open mouths. Ian looks nonchalant about their reactions and asks how he can help.
Putting on some gloves, he rinses a stack of dirty dishes. Refusing to entertain how good those calloused hands would feel on my body, I go help plate the food.
I watch through the kitchen window as people take their seats. The large space exudes an industrial vibe. Long tables line up in a vertical row, each one accommodating up to twelve people. Sadness engulfs my chest, fisting around my heart. Everyone has a story, struggling to get through the day. Maybe it’s not much, but no one should go without a warm meal.
My attention derails when I whip my head to see my father entering, sweeping his hard gaze from me to Ian.
Rooted in place, I blink, reduced to a small girl afraid to upset him.
Sweat breaks on my forehead, and I rush to him, hugging him. “Hi, Daddy.”
His brows furrow, staring at Ian’s back. “I see you found my replacement.”
I swallow, the anxiety setting heavy in my stomach, upsetting it at once.
“We kind of… We’re friends.” I hope my features don’t betray the desire for more.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Yes? Hmm, I don’t know if I like that…”
“I thought you had to be somewhere else this morning,” I say, quickly changing the subject.
“I postponed it.” His features soften. “Seemed more important to be here with you.”
Ian cocks his head, noticing my dad too. He approaches with steady steps, his face betraying nothing while my nerves escalate to a new high. I am one awkward moment away from hyperventilating.
“Hi, Coach.”
“Ian.” My father’s voice is threaded with ice. It’s a wonder a snowstorm hasn’t frozen him in place. “My daughter was just telling me how you two are friends now.”
He studies Ian through the eyes of a judge, waiting for the jury’s verdict when he has already found the defendant guilty on all charges.
“Ian’s been so nice to me,” I plead.
Ian cringes at that word, while I word vomit. “We’ve been bumping into each other, and we have so much in common.”
Shut up already.
“Yes, Coach, you know me. I’m a nice guy.”
If my father’s eyes are ice, Ian’s are fire, burning me from within.
