Rafe Cameron is always around. He’s one of my dad’s closest friends, and I’ve grown used to him being at our house. At 28, he carries himself with an effortless confidence that makes everything seem so easy. I’m barely 18—still figuring out who I am—and I know he sees me as just his friend’s daughter. My dad’s 45, and I can’t ignore the gap between us, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting something more.

Tonight, as usual, Rafe is in the living room, chatting with my dad. But I can’t focus on the conversation. My thoughts keep drifting to him—his voice, his smile, the way he carries himself. When my dad steps out to grab something from the garage, I seize the chance.

For a moment, it’s just me and Rafe in the kitchen. I’m trying to act casual, but my heart’s pounding in my chest. I can’t back out now.

“So, Rafe,” I say, walking toward the counter, keeping my voice light, “You and my dad seem to get along pretty well. You must really enjoy hanging out.”

Rafe looks up, his lips curling into a smile. “Yeah, he’s a good guy. We’ve known each other for a while.”

I take a small step closer, pretending to be interested in the coffee machine. “That’s nice. It’s not easy to find people you can actually talk to, right?”

He gives a small nod, taking a sip from his glass. “True. But it’s about finding the right people, I guess.”

I can feel my cheeks flush. This isn’t going exactly as I’d planned, but I’m not giving up yet. I press on, trying to sound confident. “I bet you could teach me a thing or two about getting along with people. Since you’ve probably seen it all, being, well… experienced.”

His gaze is calm, but I can tell he’s not picking up on the hint. “I wouldn’t say I’m an expert, but I get by,” he replies nonchalantly.

I feel my stomach drop, the awkwardness starting to settle in. I laugh softly, trying to recover, and toss a loose strand of hair over my shoulder. “Yeah, I guess so. Just thought I’d ask.”

Rafe chuckles, his smile still easy but not giving anything away. “You’re good. Don’t worry about it.”

The embarrassment is creeping up on me, but I try not to show it. “Right. No big deal,” I say, pretending I’m unaffected, even though I’m not.

He doesn’t seem to catch on to anything I was trying to do. He looks at me like this is just another conversation. And in that moment, I realize I’m just his friend’s daughter. No matter how hard I try, it’s not going to happen.

I take a step back, masking the embarrassment with a light shrug. “Anyway, I should probably go check on my dad,” I say, quickly turning away.

As I walk off, I feel a little foolish. But I can’t help it—I’ll probably keep trying, even though I know it’s a lost cause.