That idiot is the final boss

Jennifer Clayton

I shouldn’t be thinking about my best friend’s dad.

It was completely off-limits, yet here I was, doing exactly that. Again. Like I hadn’t already had this same battle with myself a hundred times.

It didn’t start out as anything major, but I guess that’s how these things go. Innocent moments that didn’t seem like much at the time—a quick exchange of glances across the dinner table, the accidental brush of our fingers when we passed a dish at Thanksgiving, the way his voice wrapped around my name, his accent smooth and intoxicating, as though each word were a gentle caress meant just for me.

Those tiny moments should have been meaningless, but they weren’t. Each one burrowed deeper into my mind until he became the star of my daydreams, the person I couldn’t stop thinking about before falling asleep at night.

Every. Single. Night.

But it wasn’t just those moments or even his voice that had me so hooked. It was the way he paid attention when I spoke, the way his piercing green eyes lit up as if he genuinely cared about every word I said. There was no pretending with him. He made me feel like he truly saw me, like I mattered in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

And yet, every time I let my thoughts wander to him, guilt followed swiftly behind.

Like right now.

I was sitting by the pool with Bellamy , my best friend. She was going on about the debate team and how she was sure she could seduce any of them if she found the right argument. I should have been paying attention, laughing along or rolling my eyes. But instead, my mind was drifting—to her dad.

Vincent was somewhere in the house, probably shirtless, looking effortlessly perfect in that rugged, masculine way he always did.

“Focus, Jennifer ,” I told myself. “Be a better friend.”

Spoiler alert: I couldn’t do it.

The moment I dragged my attention back to Bellamy , my mind betrayed me again. I pictured him—his thick black hair, his sharp jaw dusted with just the right amount of stubble, those strong, capable hands. And then there was that smile, the one that made my stomach flip whenever he aimed it my way.

It was everything. He was everything.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Her voice yanked me out of my thoughts, and I looked up to find her staring at me, unimpressed.

Busted.

I scrambled to recover, forcing a smile and tilting my head like I’d been hanging on her every word. “Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “What were you saying? My head was somewhere else.”

She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at me, her pout making it clear she wasn’t buying it. But after a moment, she rolled her eyes and grinned.

“I asked if you’re ready to go inside, and you totally ignored me,” she huffed.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” I said quickly, watching as she stood and stretched, her long limbs catching the sunlight before she reached for her towel.

“You okay?” she asked as we headed toward the patio doors.

I nodded, trying to act normal. “Yeah, just tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Maybe stop staying up all night reading,” she teased, laughing.

“Guilty as charged,” I admitted, forcing a laugh.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. I’d stayed up reading, sure, but that wasn’t the real reason for my exhaustion. The romance novel I’d been glued to had somehow morphed into a fantasy starring Vincent . Every romantic gesture, every stolen kiss in the book had me imagining him. By the time I finally turned off the lights, I was so wound up I couldn’t sleep.

And, well… I hadn’t exactly left things at just fantasizing.

God, I was a mess.

But at least Bellamy didn’t seem to notice I’d zoned out again. Small mercies, right?

She was talking again, her voice breaking through my thoughts. “Oh! Did you hear about that guy from our class? What was his name?”

Her question caught me off guard, pulling me out of my spiral. “What guy?” I asked, grateful for the change in subject.

“The one you used to have a crush on a few years ago,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You know, the guy with the glasses.”

I rolled my eyes, already knowing who she meant.

Ryder .

I’d had a crush on him once, ages ago. He was sweet and nerdy in a way that used to charm me, but now? He seemed so young, so unremarkable. Compared to Vincent , Ryder barely registered as a blip on my radar.

Not that I should be comparing anyone to Bellamy ’s dad.

“Ryder ,” I said finally, keeping my tone light.

“Yeah, him,” she said, grinning as she nudged me playfully.