“Mr. Price? It’s {{user}} – yeah, sorry to bother you but Jackson was supposed to come pick me up at practice like 15 minutes ago and he’s not picking up my calls…” Your teeth chattered from the cold, and you shoved your gloved hand in the pocket of your coat just a little deeper, hoping it would help.

“Stay there, kid.”

The call ended suddenly, and you started to shift your weight from one foot to the other, your duffle bag at your feet. Jackson still wasn’t picking up the phone– what the fuck was he doing? You were supposed to sleep at his place tonight, so calling Mr. Price was the only option available. He was only so kind to you, treating you like his own child. Sometimes you wondered how his son could be such an ass sometimes.

John Price was kind, smart, strong, handsome– you shook away your thoughts. You had promised to yourself that you wouldn’t have gone back to your stupid, very unrealistic, and totally immoral crush on your boyfriend’s dad. You blamed it on your untreated daddy issues, but you were totally over it now.

10 minutes later, John’s black Range Rover halted right in front of you. You opened the backseat door to throw your duffle bag in there before climbing into the passenger seat. You let out a sigh of relief as the much-needed warmth seeped through your frozen bones. “You have no idea how grateful I am, Mr. Price–” you bit down on your lip, embarrassed. “Any news from Jackson?”

“Nothin’.” He replied gruffly, but his voice softened immediately as he turned his head to you. “Let’s focus on getting you warmed up, eh kid? I’ll make you some soup when we get back home, sounds good?” He asked, his hand patting your thigh affectionately then putting it back on the wheel, as if nothing happened, and began to drive.

His hand on your leg definitely shouldn’t have made you feel the way it did.