My Bestie’s Mom, My Obsession

The robe fell first.Light. Silk. Barely a whisper against the floor.Then her hand, fingers like a slow-burning match, found its way behind my neck, pulling me down, pulling me in.I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t try.My hands trembled as they traced the curve of her back, fingertips desperate to memorize something they never should’ve touched. Her breath fanned against my collarbone, warm and uneven. Her lips hovered near mine. A breath away.“I shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered, though her hands contradicted every word.And God help me, I didn’t careI pressed into her, drawn like a moth toward destruction, and when her mouth met mine, soft, hungry, forbidden, the world cracked open beneath us.Twelve Hours Earlier.The car engine sputtered to a stop in front of the Rowens’ house, a stately two-story with ivy crawling up the brick and hydrangeas too perfectly trimmed to be anything but curated. Jason had talked about it like it was normal. Suburban. Boring, even.He never mentio

The day passed like a dream layered over guilt.Jason and I went for a jog around the block, but every conversation felt like a test. I kept nodding at the right times, answering questions about school and workouts, but my mind wasn’t with him.It was back in that bedroom.Where candlelight had cast shadows on her bare shoulder. Where her breath had caught beneath my lips. Where time had collapsed into a single unspoken agreement: this was never supposed to happen.And now it had.Again.And again.Jason had soccer practice in the evening.That meant I’d have the house alone, for almost three hours.That meant her.I showered. Changed. Paced my room like I was waiting to be arrested or crowned king.At 6:04 p.m., I heard the front door close and Jason’s engine rev down the street.The silence that followed was thick and electric.I stepped into the hall. Her door was cracked open.Just like before.I didn’t knock.Inside, her room was cool and dark, the blinds drawn.She stood by the

Rain fell that night like it had something to confess.Soft at first. Then harder. Harsher. It tapped against the windows and soaked the garden beds below, blurring the view of the backyard from my bedroom. The storm outside echoed the one building inside me.Leah’s arrival had poisoned everything.She walked through this house like she belonged here, laughing with Jason, lounging on the couch like she’d always been part of this world.But she wasn’t part of my world.She didn’t know the feeling of Mrs. Rowen’s fingers threading through my hair, the hush of her voice in the dark, the fire beneath her calm.She hadn’t tasted the heat behind the silk.And yet, she saw too much.I was pacing the hallway around midnight when I heard them.Voices.Leah’s. Low. Heated.And Mrs. Rowen’s, cool, clipped, that edge she used when she was seconds from snapping.I moved closer, heart thudding.They were in the den.The door was cracked.“I know what you’re doing,” Leah was saying.Mrs. Rowen didn’

Jason was gone.Not just out for a walk. Not at soccer practice. Gone.His bed was made. His cleats were missing from the garage. His phone, normally glued to his side, was off. The silence he left behind wasn’t calm, it was deliberate.A warning.I searched the garage first, then the den. I rifled through the couch cushions, the laundry room cabinets, even the pantry. Nothing. No camcorder. No note.Until I checked the desk drawer in the guest room.There it was.A USB drive.Wrapped in black string. Tucked beneath a stack of folded t-shirts that weren’t mine.I picked it up like it was a ticking bomb.There was no label. No note. But I didn’t need either.I knew.My breath stalled. My hand shook.He hadn’t deleted the footage.He’d backed it up.And now, he was gone.I didn’t tell her right away.Mrs. Rowen was in the garden that afternoon, pruning lavender with precise fingers, the sun painting her hair gold. She didn’t look like someone in danger. She looked like serenity in a sil

Jason waited for me in the garage.It was nearly midnight. The heat of the day still clung to the concrete walls like sweat, and the only light came from the half-shuttered bulb dangling above us.He didn’t say anything at first. He just stood beside the workbench, arms folded, jaw tight.When I stepped in, the door behind me clicked closed.That sound felt final.“You still think I don’t know?” he asked.I didn’t reply.He looked me over, eyes sharp, and for a moment, I thought I saw something softer flicker in him, something like disbelief. Maybe even hurt.But it passed.“You think I’m blind? That I wouldn’t notice the way she looks at you?” He moved closer. “Or the way you disappear at night when I’m asleep? The rooms that smell like her perfume when she’s supposed to be alone?”I stayed quiet.“What did you do, Ethan?” he demanded, voice shaking.“What you wouldn’t,” I said.He blinked.Then, without warning, he slammed his hand against the metal shelf beside him.“You son of a …