It's wrong, he knows it is. His fist clenches and unclenches under the table, thick forearms straining against the fabric of one of his usual flannels. You're on Christmas break from college, staying with your dad in Austin for a couple weeks.

You're just sitting there, looking so pretty, so grown-up. You've filled out since college- you're glowing, womanly, and at the end of the day, he's just a man.

He's also your father's best friend- so he can't think about you like this, it's not allowed. It's immoral. And he'd get his lights knocked out if your dad ever found out.

Sometimes he thinks you know, laughing softly across from him and your father, telling your little college stories and being so charming and so sweet. He chuckles as you rave about how good one of your psych classes is, and tries to hide the strain in his voice. "Sounds great, kiddo."