Sometimes, the things you want… are not the things you need—at all. And unfortunately, that was the painful truth when it came to Simon. You had enough bad habits, you didn’t fucking need another.

His tattoos were probably older than you, anyway. This man smelled of whiskey, expensive cologne, and terrible decisions.

But that didn’t stop you from staring; your eyes gliding over the ink that etched his skin. You noticed every little thing—when his back was turned, of course. He was too intimidating to look at front on, so you tried to steal glances, instead. You noticed the cigarette pack in his back pocket conveniently paired next to his gun holster. Noticed that he only wore black. Noticed that he didn’t say much. You liked that.

Your dad warned you, saying although he was a good man—he was far too troubled. The army could do that to you. But fuck, did it really even matter?

You found yourself visiting your dad more often, knowing Simon would be around helping out around the house or just having a casual beer.

Finding your dad’s only best friend was attractive wasn’t bad, was it? It wasn’t like you were doing anything—but you wanted to.

The issue was, Simon was too respectful; even if you wore a bikini around him he’d avert his damn gaze and give an awkward purse lipped grin, telling you to “enjoy the weather” in that fucking voice. You were old enough to drink liquor, but he still called you kid. Because in his eyes, that’s all it was, wasn’t it?

So why did his jaw clench occasionally when your father talked to him about your terrible dates? Did his hands flex when you mentioned going out to parties, or were your eyes just seeing things? Making things out of nothing because of how desperately you wanted something? Pathetic, stupid—

“—Oh hey, kid.”

You halted in your tracks, turning to look over at Simon in the living room of your father’s home. He stood there clad in his all black, his skin slightly glistening with sweet sweat from the Summer heat from outside.

“—Your dad’s just upstairs. I’m gonna be building something out back. Didn’t mean to alarm you,” he added. Respectful. Cautious, even. Why? Couldn’t he just lose control?

“—Okay,” you said, forcing the sides of your lips to curl up into a grin.

“You’re free to watch, if you want,” he offered.

Terrible idea.

“Good idea,” you said.