My Dad's Bestfriend

Chapter 155 Nothing Fading

EvelynNôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

The morning light pierced through my eyelids, stirring me from my slumber. As I blinked open my eyes, I winced, immediately assaulted by a pounding headache. No, I hadn't just become aware of it; the ache had been lurking even in my dreams.

Fuck this!

A soft groan escaped my lips as I pressed my palms against my throbbing temples. Memories from last night floated hazily in my mind, elusive and fragmented. I recalled being with my friends, pretending to have a good time, Jacob, Clara, and Dad on the patio. Then Dad and Clara had apparently left, but what happened next?

Fuck! What did I do after they left?

I pushed myself upright, bracing my weight on my hands as I sat on the edge of the bed.

"Think, Evelyn. Get your shit together and think," I urged my brain to piece together the events of last night, but all I got in return was a surge of pain, likely a consequence of drowning myself in alcohol. The sharp ache shot from my eyebrows to the back of my skull, and another groan slipped past my lips.

This headache was definitely an alcohol-induced one. My hangovers were usually just like this.

How many shots did I take last night? Did I stick to beer, or, worse, did I down every concoction Mason and Nancy brought?

Fuck! I just hoped I hadn't smoked any marijuana.

Probably not, considering Jacob was there. He would have probably snatched it away before I could even take a drag.

As I rose from the bed, I noticed my slippers neatly placed by the rug, which struck me as odd. I never bothered with slippers; usually, I'd endure the cold floor due to sheer laziness. Before I could ponder further, my attention was drawn to the unusual sight on the nightstand: a tablet lying there. Slipping on the slippers, I made my way to the nightstand and picked up the tablet. It was the same pill I took to dull my headaches. Clara!

This had to be her doing. To spare me from Dad's wrath, she must have left this tablet here for me.

I grabbed the glass of water and swallowed the tablet.

I couldn't thank her enough. Facing Dad's interrogation with a pounding headache would have been unbearable. Deciding not to dwell on the events of last night, I headed to the bathroom to freshen up, vigorously brushing my teeth to rid myself of the lingering scent of alcohol. But beneath it, there was another familiar scent, one I refused to acknowledge as his.

I must have been preoccupied with my friends last night. Even though I couldn't recall anything, I could trust myself enough-I wasn't about to let him near me again. Not ever.

Once I'd taken a proper shower and scrubbed away every sign of tiredness, I dried my hair and slipped on a comfy t-shirt and shorts. As I descended the stairs, the inevitable sight that I dreaded, greeted me in the morning: Jacob, sitting on the couch in his casual sweatpants and a black t-shirt that hugged his muscles like a second skin.

My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him. This was the very sight I deep down missed every damn morning-the messy hair, those beautiful veins in his arms standing out, and lips that looked plumper than ever. The morning view of him was worth a billion dollars, but even if I had a billion dollars, I wouldn't give him a single penny after what he did to me.

He noticed my presence, his eyes trailing from my feet before settling on my face, totally fixated, and I knew they wouldn't budge. Knowing him, I knew it for sure. So, without wasting my time, I headed for the kitchen, feeling his gaze track every step until I disappeared into the kitchen.

Clara was already in the kitchen, preparing our breakfast. I stood beside her. "Good morning, Clara."

"So, you're awake," she chuckled. "Had quite the fun last night, didn't you?"

"Yeah," I rolled my eyes, "Too much that I don't even remember what happened. By the way, thank you for leaving the pill for me my headache was killing me."

Clara's response was unexpected. "Pill?" She looked at me confused, her hands pausing from slicing the tomato. "What are you talking about?"

My body froze in realization, dread crawling up my insides. "So, was it Dad?! God, I'm so dead. Did he see me drunk?"

"Wait, what are you talking about?" She dropped the knife and turned to me, her hands on her hips. "Did you get drunk last night?"

What the hell?

She didn't know?

Wait. What was going on?

"You didn't know?" I looked at her, bewilderment covering my face. "Did you leave before Dad?"

"No, I didn't leave before your dad. I

went to bed with him, leaving you kids for Jacob to take care of," she clarified. "But only Jacob was there not us. So, as for your worry, your е dad didn't catch you drunk, nor did I, and didn't even leave you that pill. But none of that matters. What matters is, why did you get drunk, Evelyn?" Her expression turned serious. "You know how terrible headaches you suffer from them, don't you?"

So, Clara and Dad weren't there last night...

Which left only one person to be in charge of taking my drunk ass to my room and tucking me in bed. Fuck!

I had been drunk with Jacob, and I didn't even trust myself enough to not do anything sexual around him. Did we do anything? Kiss, hug, make out? Shit! Shit! Shit! I can't even remember anything.

"Evelyn." Clara's voice brought me back to the present, my eyes snapping to her.

"Don't worry, Clara," I mumbled, walking over to the fridge and retrieving the bottle of chilled orange juice—a staple in our household because Dad knew how much I loved it, more than beer. "I took the med that apparently neither you nor Dad left on the nightstand. It'll help."

"Well... maybe Jacob left it?"

"I guess he did. There's no one else I can think of in this house where only four of us are living right now, given that one is an unwanted guest," I shrugged, feeling something strange crawl up my skin. I couldn't shake it off, even though I was trying to avoid feeling anything at all after this

sudden, shocking, and dangerous discovery that opened up

possibilities of so many things that could have or might have happened last night.

My hands tightened around the glass bottle, a cold bead of sweat forming on my forehead, and my heart pounding against my chest.

Suddenly, flashes of his face being close to mine, the moonlight filtering into the room, his body pressed against mine, and his breath mingling with mine took over my mind.

"Fuck," I muttered, closing my eyes tightly.

"Evie, are you alright?"

"Yeah, Clara. I'm fine," I took one big gulp of the orange juice, soothing the dryness of my throat.

He had been close enough, but... nothing more than that could have happened, right?

"I will head upstairs, Clara. Can you send my breakfast to my room?" I asked, and Clara seemed to take the cue, nodding.

"Sure thing, sweetheart. Go on."

He was too perfect. And if it hadn't been for him, I'd have never known that destruction could look so fucking beautiful.

Would it be worth it to let him destroy me again? Would it be worth going through yet another possible heartbreak by letting him in? Maybe it was

worth-

Shit, Evelyn. Get your head straight.

I shook my head, tearing my gaze away from him before I hurried up the stairs, feeling his eyes tracking every step I took. I darted into my room, slamming the door shut behind me. Pressing my back against the cold surface of the door, I felt my heart hammering against my chest, my breathing quickening, my eyes squeezing shut.

I was weakening there was no denying that my heart was beginning to falter, the walls starting to crumble, and my resolve reduced to ashes.

Jacob Adriano was worming his way back in, and it seemed like my heart had never let him leave in the first place. He'd been here, right here, the whole damn time, even during those sixteen days he wasn't physically present.

Suddenly, a ping from my phone shattered the deafening silence of the room and my loudest of thoughts. I crossed over to my desk and picked up my phone.

"Well, an evening with ice cream, cupcakes, and a walk at the beach wouldn't be so bad, would it?"-Cameron.

I found myself releasing the tight breath I'd been holding and replied to his text, knowing it would be the perfect distraction. "Pick me up at 6."