He's not my dad

part 13

By the time we stepped back out onto the street, the night had softened. The air was cooler, quieter, the city humming instead of shouting.
“I’m starving,” Chuck announced suddenly.
I laughed. “Of course you are.”
“This is non-negotiable,” he said. “We have to get pizza.”
We found a small place still open, the kind with fogged-up windows and greasy paper plates. We stood on the sidewalk eating slices far too big to manage gracefully, sauce threatening to drip down our hands.
This—this felt oddly intimate.
“So,” he said between bites, “how’s the job?”
I sighed. “Good. Intimidating. I feel like I have something to prove all the time.”
He nodded like he understood. “You care. That’s why.”
“What about your band?” I asked.
His entire face changed.
He lit up—eyes brighter, posture looser, voice animated as he talked about music like it was oxygen. Late nights, terrible gigs, the thrill of a crowd singing along. I watched him, barely tasting the pizza anymore.
He loved this.
We walked and talked, no rush, no awkward pauses. It was easy in a way that surprised me. Comfortable. Like something that didn’t need explaining.
Eventually, we stopped outside my building.
He hesitated, hands in his jacket pockets. “I don’t want to push my luck,” he said. “But I’d really like to come up.”
My breath caught.
“Not just to talk,” he added, a wicked glint flashing in his eyes. “I’d like to show you what I can do to your body when I’m sober.”
Heat rushed straight to my cheeks.
I swallowed. “That’s… a very convincing argument.”
I didn’t wait for him to say anything else. I took his hand and pulled him toward the door.
From the moment we crossed the threshold, there was no space between us. Mouths colliding, hands everywhere, jackets and shoes abandoned without ceremony. We stumbled through the apartment, laughter breaking between kisses, urgency building with every step.
We barely noticed Bree.
She definitely noticed us.
Her gasp and scandalized laugh registered somewhere in the back of my mind—but it was distant, unimportant. I was too far gone, too wrapped up in the way Chuck’s hands moved with certainty, like he already knew me.
By the time we reached my bedroom, we were breathless, tangled, half-undressed and completely unapologetic.
The door shut behind us.
And the rest of the world—noise, rules, consequences—fell completely, blissfully silent.

.....

I woke to sunlight spilling through the curtains. The room smelled faintly of him—Cologne? Sweat? Something warm and familiar—and I blinked blearily, taking in the scene. Naked. Alone.

Of course. I hadn’t expected him to stick around. He’d probably left the moment I fell asleep.
I let myself grin anyway, remembering just how incredible he had been. Better than the night at the ball. My chest still tingled with the memory, and I allowed myself a small, satisfied shiver before swinging my legs off the bed.
The shower was long and hot, washing away sleep and leaving me awake, tingly, and slightly breathless. I pulled on gym gear, telling myself it was for exercise, though the truth was I just wanted to feel… normal again.

I wandered into the living room, planning to grab some water and maybe scroll aimlessly on my phone, when I froze.

Chuck. And Bree.
They were sitting together on the couch, Bree laughing, Chuck leaning back casually, the very picture of someone who belonged anywhere he wanted.

“Hey, babe,” Chuck greeted easily, grinning as he looked up at me.

I blinked. “Uh… hi?”

Bree’s laughter rang out. “We definitely need thinner walls,” she said, waving a hand dramatically. “I could barely hear you two last night. Rude, really—giving me a preview and not letting me watch the whole thing.”

I choked on my water.

Chuck doubled over laughing, shaking his head. “You’re hilarious,” he said between breaths.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m not even mad,” I muttered. “Just… mortified.”

Bree tilted her head, grinning wickedly. “You were loud. And impressive. Like, professional level. Honestly, I’m jealous.”

I groaned, hiding my face in my hands. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Chuck reached over and ruffled my hair playfully. “She’s right, though. I’m not letting her exaggerate—well, maybe just a little.”

I glanced at him, half-exasperated, half-amused. “You two are impossible.”

He smiled, leaning back into the couch. “Maybe. But it’s way more fun than normal.”

Bree laughed again, and I couldn’t help but join in. For all the chaos, embarrassment, and lingering reminders of last night, this—this ridiculous, perfectly unhinged moment—felt exactly like it should.

Somehow, I had the strangest feeling that this was just the beginning.

.....

I sank into the chair, suddenly feeling very small, as Bree launched into another round of questions.
“So…” she began, leaning forward with that gleam in her eye that always meant trouble, “…how was it? Really?”
Chuck didn’t miss a beat. He grinned and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. “She’s a wildcat,” he said, casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
My cheeks turned bright red. I could feel myself shrinking into the seat.
Bree’s eyes went wide. “A wildcat? Come on—give me all the details!”
I waved my hands frantically. “No. Nope. Not happening. I’d like to eat lunch without dying of embarrassment, thanks.”
Chuck laughed, clearly enjoying my discomfort far more than he probably should. “She’s embarrassed, Bree. And you should be—she’s even hotter when she’s flustered.”
I groaned, hiding my face in my hands. Bree just laughed harder.
“Fine,” I muttered, “how about we go out for lunch instead? Somewhere we can talk about literally anything else?”
Bree pouted dramatically. “Oh, sure. Just trying to regain your energy for round two, huh?”
Chuck let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Honestly… sounds like a good idea.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help laughing along. As much as Bree was a whirlwind of embarrassment and mischief, having Chuck there—squeezing my hand, teasing me gently—made even her relentless curiosity feel a little more fun than torturous.
Lunch, I decided, might just be the perfect escape.

.......

I was so, so wrong.
Eating did not magically make the conversation steer away from last night.
Bree, ever the unfiltered hurricane, leaned across the table with that mischievous grin and started giving Chuck “tips.”
“You know,” she began, “if you really want to blow her mind, you’ve got to…” She lowered her voice conspiratorially, listing things I definitely did not want to hear in a crowded café. “…and positions? Oh, she’ll love this one…”
I buried my face in my hands, wishing the floor would swallow me whole.
Chuck, on the other hand, initially sat back, all casual confidence, that smirk on his face like he owned the world. But as Bree continued, glancing around at curious patrons sneaking glances at our table, his bravado started to wobble.
By the time she described a particularly complicated suggestion, he cleared his throat and looked anywhere but at me. His cheeks were tinged pink, and his grin had turned sheepish.
“Okay,” he muttered, “new topic.”
I exhaled quietly. “Thank you.”
He nodded, though I caught a glint of amusement in his eyes. “So… Bree, what about you? How’s your love life?”
Bree’s eyebrow shot up. “Oh, that’s easy. I have a fiancé, Noel—he’s in Afghanistan at the moment.” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, already scheming a new angle. “But tell me about your band! Can we be your groupies? Come to a show? Cheer you on?”
Chuck laughed, his embarrassment fading into that charming, easy grin I’d come to know. “Groupies, huh? I like your ambition.” He leaned back, letting the tension lift a little. “Actually… yeah. Tonight. My band’s playing. You two are officially invited.”
I blinked at him, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. “Tonight?”
“Yes,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Be there. Front row. I’ll save you the best seats in the house.”
Bree squealed quietly, bouncing in her seat. “I knew this would be fun!”
I groaned, partly in disbelief, partly in anticipation. My cheeks still burned at the thought of Bree’s commentary, but—honestly—the idea of seeing Chuck perform live made my stomach flip in a good way.
He reached across the table and squeezed my hand, that familiar warmth grounding me. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I promise tonight’s all music. No embarrassing… extras.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I should be relieved, but somehow I’m not.”
Bree just grinned, clearly delighted with the chaos she’d engineered. And somehow, despite the embarrassment, despite the lingering blush, I found myself looking forward to the night ahead more than I had any right to admit.