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Chapter 10-Some Boy
publish date:
2026-04-05 05:35:03
Ghostgoddess.Who are you rooting for? This is just the beginning of something so forbidden, You’ll question your sanity🤌🏼💋
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I Shouldn’t Have Craved My Father’s Best Friend Chapter 10-Some Boy
Adrian | The Same EveningThe office still smells like her when I drape my coat over my shoulders and leave. I notice this the way you notice something wrong with a room before you can identify what it is — a shift in the air, something sweet that does not belong to the usual order of cedar and paper and the particular cold of conditioned silence. Something warmer. Something that sits underneath the cedar now like it was always there and I simply was not paying attention.Strawberry. Of course it’s strawberry. It’s Aria.Something floral, sweet and absolutely, horrifyingly wrong.It invades my senses, going somewhere I do not authorize.I have always known her smell. I told myself it was the smell of her shampoo that she will grow up out of. That it was the smell of a child who liked sweet things. Sweets, pastries, the particular sweetness of someone who has not yet learned to want anything complicated. I told myself this and filed it and did not take it back out of the file.Was it
I Shouldn’t Have Craved My Father’s Best Friend Chapter 9-It’s An Outfit
Aria~He wasn’t supposed to be back until three.His coat is still on, dark charcoal, the line of it deliberate across his shoulders. His shirt is open at the collar — one button, not careless, Adrian is never careless, the exact degree of undone he decided to permit. His hair is slightly damp at the temples, like the day touched him somewhere outside and he has not yet had time to erase the evidence. The silver frames of his glasses catch the light when he lifts his chin.The stillness in my bones crack. I take two steps back. Creating space between us.He looks at me from beneath the specs.Not the file. Not the room.Me.“Your father’s errand,” he says. “Yes.”My voice sounds normal.That feels like a private miracle.“Cassandra said you wouldn’t be back until three.”“The visit moved.”Of course it did.“I was just leaving.”“I can see that.”He steps fully into the room. The door swings softly shut behind him and the office changes shape around the fact of him in it.The space b
I Shouldn’t Have Craved My Father’s Best Friend Chapter 8-The Errand
Aria | Four Weeks LaterThe outfit was Zara’s idea.Not the research group — that was mine, earned, Professor Harland’s assistant calling on a Thursday afternoon while I was eating cereal over the sink and trying to remember what normal felt like. But the outfit was Zara at seven forty-five this morning, standing in my wardrobe with the specific expression of a woman conducting a professional assessment and finding the subject lacking.“You’re not wearing that,” she said, pointing at what I had laid out. Dark trousers. A safe blouse. The kind of outfit that says I am serious and competent and absolutely not trying to be seen.“It’s a research meeting.”“It’s your first research meeting.” She was already pulling things out. “There’s a difference.”What she found was mine. I had forgotten I owned any of it. A cream ribbed tank, soft and fitted. A black leather mini skirt, high-waisted, unapologetically short. Knee-high boots with a slight heel that I bought in October on a day I was
I Shouldn’t Have Craved My Father’s Best Friend Chapter 7-Crumbling Control
Adrian~ I look at the photograph for a long time. It comes without warning.Not through the layers. Not with the filing system catching it first.A Sunday afternoon.The gate at the end of the drive, and her on the step watching it. Not with a book. Not with anything. Just watching, with the specific patience of someone who has made a decision and is giving the world time to execute it. Her elbows on her knees. Her good dress already creased at the back from sitting. The buttons on her jacket done up wrong — second button in the first hole, the whole thing slightly crooked — and she either hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care.She sees me come through the gate.The expression on her face — unguarded, immediate, the specific uncurated relief of a child who has been waiting and has been trying not to show that the waiting was hard.“You’re late, uncle Adrian.”“I am. You didn’t have to wait.”She looks at me with the particular expression of a seven-year-old for whom having to is entirely be
I Shouldn’t Have Craved My Father’s Best Friend CHAPTER SIX — SHARP GIRL
Adrian | Monday MorningMarcus is in my car.This was not my idea.He was standing at the bottom of my building at six-fifty-two in the morning with a coffee in each hand and the specific expression of a man who has decided something and is not going to discuss whether he has the right to decide it. I had looked at him through the windscreen for approximately three seconds. Then I had unlocked the door.He got in. He handed me one of the coffees. He did not explain himself.We drove in silence for four minutes.“You think I need babysitting,” I said.“I think nothing of the sort,” Marcus said, looking out the window.“You’re standing outside my building at six-fifty-two on a Monday morning with two coffees.”“I was in the area.”“You live twenty minutes in the other direction.”“I was in the area,” he said again, with enormous composure.I looked at the road.“You’re three years older than me,” I said.“I’m aware.”“Not twenty years. Three.”“Yes.”“Then I don’t require—”“The paparaz
I Shouldn’t Have Craved My Father’s Best Friend CHAPTER FIVE — MR. GREY
Aria | Three Weeks LaterThe wall has marks on it.I notice them every morning now. Four pale rectangles where the paint held differently underneath—Slightly brighter, slightly protected—because something used to hang there and doesn’t anymore. You can see exactly where the edges were. The precise shape of what I removed.I should repaint over them.I haven’t.I don’t know why I haven’t. Maybe because it would require acknowledging that I’m looking at them, and I have been very committed, these past three weeks, to not acknowledging things.I roll onto my back and look at the ceiling instead.My phone buzzes.“Okay so,” Zara says, without preamble, “I’m going to need you to explain something to me.”“Good morning to you too.”“I am in the middle of something very important and I need answers.” The sound of her eating something. Cereal, probably. Zara eats cereal at all hours of the day with the dedication of someone who has fully committed to one lifestyle choice. “There is a magazine
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