He's not my dad

part 10

Chuck’s Mustang rumbled beneath us, low and confident, like it knew exactly how good it looked—much like its owner. The city blurred past as sunlight spilled through the windshield, catching on the chrome details and the faint smudge of eyeliner around his eyes.

I adjusted the borrowed clothes, still half amused by the situation. “Thanks again for this,” I said, tugging at the sleeve. “Though I have to ask… the eyeliner?”

He glanced at me, one corner of his mouth lifting. “All rock gods wear eye makeup. It’s not feminine.”

I laughed. “Of course it isn’t.”

He nodded seriously. “KISS wore a full face of makeup and no one questioned their masculinity.”

“I’m only teasing,” I said, holding up my hands. “It works on you.”

“Damn right it does.”

We pulled up at a red light and he eyed my feet, eyebrows knitting together. “Do we need to stop and get you some shoes? Those heels look lethal.”

I glanced down at the gold stilettos—the same ones from the night before, now wildly out of place with my borrowed outfit. “I can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m already cutting it close. If I’m late , my boss might actually combust.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “But don’t sue me if you break an ankle.”

The office building came into view far too quickly. He pulled up smoothly, killed the engine, and turned to me.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said easily.

I smiled, warmth curling in my chest. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

I climbed out of the car, pausing to look back just as he started the engine again. He gave me a quick salute, the Mustang growling as he pulled away and disappeared into traffic.

It wasn’t until I stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a soft ding, that it hit me.

We hadn’t exchanged numbers.
I stared at my reflection in the mirrored wall—borrowed clothes, yesterday’s heels, hair still holding onto the memory of last night. I let out a quiet laugh, equal parts disbelief and disappointment.

It had just been a one-night thing.

And worse than that… I would probably never see that beautiful red gown again.
The elevator began to rise, carrying me back into reality, while a small, reckless part of me wondered if some nights were meant to stay exactly where they belonged—unfinished, unforgettable, and just a little unreal.

......

Kate nearly collided with my desk the moment she spotted me.
“Oh my God,” she said, eyes immediately dropping to my feet. “Those shoes are beautiful—but a little much for work, don’t you think? And why are you all in black? Are you going to a funeral?”
I winced and slid my bag onto the desk like it might shield me from further inspection. “It’s a long story,” I said. “I had to borrow some clothes from a friend.”
The heat rushed straight to my cheeks.
Kate’s expression shifted instantly—from curiosity to delight. Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “You had a one-night stand,” she said. “Didn’t you?”
Before I could stop her, she leaned closer, eyes flicking over me. “And those are men’s clothes.”
I lunged forward and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Stop shouting,” I hissed. “And give me your jumper. Right now. I do not want the entire floor knowing I had a one-night stand before nine a.m.”
Her eyes sparkled with laughter, but she nodded and peeled off the cream jumper she was wearing. I tugged it on immediately, relief washing over me as the outfit softened into something far less obvious.
“There,” she said. “Much better. Still scandalous—but subtly.”
I exhaled. “Thank you.”
“Someone got lucky.”
Dan’s voice came from behind us, casual and far too amused. I dropped into my chair and buried my face in my hands.
“See?” I muttered. “This is your fault. You were too loud.”
Dan laughed. “I didn’t hear anything. I just recognize the post-sex glow.”
I groaned as he walked away, whistling to himself.
Kate leaned closer, eyes shining. “I want everything,” she whispered. “All of it. Lunch. No excuses.”
“I hate you,” I said weakly.
She grinned. “No, you don’t.”
Once she left, the office finally settled into its usual rhythm—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, the low hum of work filling the space. I tried to focus, but my thoughts felt scattered, still caught somewhere between brick walls, guitars, and the rumble of a Mustang engine.
I checked my phone for the first time all morning.
Multiple missed messages from my parents.
Where are you?
Did you get to work safely?
You disappeared last night.
And then a message from Bree:
Why didn’t you come home?
I sighed and typed quickly.
To my parents, I apologized for leaving without saying goodbye and reassured them I was fine and already at work.
To Bree, I kept it simple:
Stayed at a friend’s.
Her reply came almost instantly.
👏🍆
I stared at the screen, then laughed quietly to myself.
Safe to say… she knew.
I locked my phone, glanced around the office to make sure no one was watching, and straightened the borrowed jumper around me.
One-night stand or not, borrowed clothes or not, I was back in the real world now.
And somehow, everything felt just a little more interesting than it had before.