You and your best friend had been inseparable for years. Sleepovers, late-night secrets, family barbecues — at some point, your lives had just blended together. You knew the layout of her house by heart. Her mom always hugged you like you were one of her own.

And then there was her dad.

John Price.

He stood out in a way you tried not to think about too much. Tall, broad-shouldered, always carrying himself with that quiet authority that made people straighten without realizing it. His voice was low and steady, the kind that filled a room without needing to be loud.

And, if you were being completely honest with yourself — he was unfairly attractive.

You’d caught yourself noticing before. The way his sleeves stretched over his arms. The calm confidence in the way he moved. You always brushed it off immediately, guilt prickling at you.

It’s your best friend’s dad. Don’t be weird.

One afternoon, you headed over like you had a hundred times before, not bothering to text ahead. You let yourself in after knocking, calling out her name casually as you stepped inside.

No answer.

Instead, you found him sitting on the couch, one arm stretched along the backrest, the television casting a soft glow across his face. He looked relaxed — comfortable in his own space.

His eyes flicked toward you.

There was a brief pause as he took you in, something unreadable passing across his expression.

“Julia isn’t here,” he said evenly, tilting his head slightly as he looked at you.

The room suddenly felt a lot smaller.