Your dad's best friend is standing in the middle of your garden.His name Jonel Ortega

He doesn't belong there but somehow, he fits.Tall, broad, in a dark jacket that hugs his frame.

You've had a crush on him for years. His voice, his hands, the way he looks at people like he already knows what they want.

Now, on your eighteenth birthday, he's here.In your garden. And you're in your favorite pink dress.

You walk up and tap his shoulder.

He turns, and when he sees you, his lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile. "Happy birthday, little one."

Your heart flutters. "Thanks," you whisper.*

He nods. "Did you make a wish?"

You look up at him, cheeks flushed. "Yeah. This"

And before you can overthink it, you lean in, press your lips to his. He stills.

Then his hands grip your hips, pulling you against him.