He's not my dad

part 14

The bar was small, dimly lit, and already buzzing when we arrived. Exposed brick walls, mismatched stools, the faint smell of beer and electricity in the air. It felt intimate in the best way—like everyone there knew they were about to witness something special.
Chuck disappeared backstage for a moment, leaving Bree and me to claim a spot near the front. She was practically vibrating with excitement, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“I cannot believe we’re here,” she said.

“Actual rock band. Actual rock god. And you slept with him.”

“Please don’t shout that,” I muttered, laughing as I tucked my hair behind my ears.

The lights dimmed slightly, and then the band took the stage.
Chuck stepped up to the mic, guitar slung low on his hips, tattoos on full display under the stage lights. The second he started playing, something shifted. He wasn’t just hot—he was magnetic. Confident. Alive.
And then his eyes found mine.
He didn’t look away.
Song after song, he kept glancing over, smirking when our eyes met, raising his eyebrows when I bit my lip or swayed to the music. Once, during a guitar solo, he stepped closer to the edge of the stage and held my gaze like he was playing just for me.

My stomach flipped. Hard.
Bree leaned into my ear. “If he looks at you like that one more time, I’m going to need a cold shower.”

I laughed, but I couldn’t deny it—I loved the attention. Loved the unspoken conversation passing between us with every look.

At some point, Bree nudged me. “I’m heading out. Early start tomorrow,” she said, far too casually.

I watched her weave through the crowd, then pause near the door to talk to a guy I hadn’t noticed before. He leaned in close. Too close.
A flicker of unease passed through me. Is she…?
No. I shook it off. Bree was Bree. She’d never do that to Noel. I turned my attention back to the stage.

The final song brought the house down. Cheers, whistles, clapping so loud my ears rang. Chuck laughed into the mic, thanking the crowd before disappearing backstage.
A few minutes later, he reappeared, slightly flushed, hair damp at his temples. He found me immediately.

“Walk you home?” he asked quietly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
We slipped out into the cool night air, the sounds of the bar fading behind us. The city felt softer at this hour—quieter, more intimate. Our shoulders brushed as we walked, fingers occasionally knocking together until he finally just took my hand.
Neither of us spoke much. We didn’t need to.
Outside my building, he stopped. The streetlight caught his face just right, highlighting the warmth in his eyes.
“I had fun tonight,” he said. “You looked incredible out there.”
“So did you,” I replied softly. “You didn’t stop staring.”
He smiled. “Guilty.”
He leaned in, giving me time to pull away—but I didn’t. His kiss was slow, unhurried, warm. Not desperate. Not rushed. Just… promising.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. “I’ll be in touch,” he said quietly.
I nodded, smiling despite myself. “I know.”
He stepped back, gave me one last look that lingered far longer than necessary, then turned and walked away.
I watched him until he disappeared down the street, my lips still tingling, my heart a little unsteady—and for the first time in a long while, excited about what might come next.

... 

The apartment was too quiet when I got home.
Normally Bree’s music would already be playing, or she’d be sprawled on the couch in one of my hoodies, shouting a greeting before I even shut the door. Tonight there was nothing—just the hum of the fridge and the faint city noise outside.
I checked the time. Late. Too late.
I pulled out my phone and called her. It rang and rang until it went to voicemail. I tried again. Same result. A knot tightened in my chest.
“Come on, Bree,” I muttered, pacing the living room. I sent a quick text—Where are you? Call me.
No reply.
Against my better judgment, I scrolled to Noel’s name.
The call barely rang once before he answered.
“Taylor?” His voice was tense, already braced for bad news. “Is everything okay? Is Bree with you?”
My stomach dropped. “No… she’s not home yet. I tried calling her and she’s not answering.”
There was a pause on the line, heavy and loaded.
“She’s barely been answering me either,” he admitted quietly. “And when she does, she’s distant. Like I’m bothering her. I don’t know what I’ve done.”
I leaned against the counter, gripping the phone tighter. “She’s probably just stressed. You know how she gets.”
Another pause—longer this time.
“Taylor,” he said carefully, “do you think she’s cheating on me?”
The word hit hard.
“No,” I said immediately. Too quickly. “Absolutely not. Bree wouldn’t do that. She loves you.”
And yet, even as I said it, images flickered through my mind—her leaving the bar early, laughing with a guy I didn’t know, the way she’d been dodging questions lately. The way she’d been glowing tonight.
“I’ll find her,” I added firmly. “I promise. I’ll call you as soon as I hear from her.”
“Please,” he said. “I just… I don’t want to lose her.”
“I know,” I whispered, and meant it—for both of them.
I hung up just as the lock on the front door clicked.
The door swung open and Bree stumbled inside, kicking it shut behind her. Her hair was messy, her dress slightly twisted, lipstick smudged. She looked flushed, radiant—glowing in a way that made my heart sink.
She blinked when she saw me. “Heyyy,” she said softly, like she was still half somewhere else.
I stared at her, words stuck in my throat.
She was glowing.
Not tipsy. Not tired.
Post-sex glowing.
My phone felt heavy in my hand. Noel’s worried voice echoed in my head.
“Bree,” I said slowly, trying to keep my voice steady, “where have you been?”
She smiled—dreamy, unfocused—and for the first time since I’d known her, that smile didn’t feel comforting.
It felt like the beginning of something I wasn’t sure any of us were ready to face.

.....

The glow vanished the moment she saw my face.
Bree’s smile faltered, then hardened. “Why does Noel keep calling me?” she snapped, dropping her bag on the counter. “What did you say to him?”

I straightened, my nerves finally snapping into something sharper. “I told him I couldn’t reach you. Because I couldn’t. Because you weren’t answering your phone.”

Her eyes flashed. “You had no right to call him.”

“No right?” I stared at her. “Bree, it’s past midnight. You didn’t come home. You didn’t answer your phone. What was I supposed to think?”

“That you mind your own business,” she shot back. “You’ve just caused unnecessary drama in my relationship. Now he’s questioning me, asking where I was, what I was doing—”

“Well maybe that’s because you weren’t where you said you’d be,” I said before I could stop myself.
She froze.

The silence between us stretched, thick and dangerous.

I swallowed, my heart pounding. “Bree… I need you to be honest with me. Are you sleeping with someone who isn’t Noel?”

She exploded.

“What?” she shouted. “How dare you?”
Her voice rose fast, sharp and echoing off the walls. “How could you even think that about me? About us?”

“Because you’ve been acting different,” I said, my own voice shaking now. “Because you left the bar with a guy. Because you came home looking like—”

“Like what?” she screamed. “Happy? God forbid I look happy.”

She laughed bitterly, running a hand through her hair. “You’re unbelievable. You call my fiancé behind my back and then accuse me of cheating? What kind of friend does that?”

“I was worried about you,” I insisted. “So was he.”

“Oh please,” she scoffed. “This isn’t about concern. This is about you judging me.”

“That’s not fair,” I said, tears burning my eyes. “I would never judge you. I just asked a question.”

“Well congratulations,” she spat. “You’ve officially crossed a line.”

She pointed at me, her finger trembling with rage. “You’re a bitch. A bad friend. And you’ve just made things ten times worse for me.”

That one hurt. Deep.
I opened my mouth to respond, but she was already storming past me, her shoulder clipping mine as she marched down the hall.

“Bree—” I called.

Her bedroom door slammed shut. A lock clicked loudly on the other side.
I stood there alone in the living room, my chest tight, the echoes of her words ringing in my ears.
Bad friend.
I sank onto the couch, staring at the closed door, wondering when concern had turned into betrayal—and whether I’d just cracked something that couldn’t be fixed.