My Dad's Bestfriend novel Chapter 155

Evelyn

The morning light pierced through my eyelids, stirring me from my slumber. As I blinked open my eyes, I winced, immediately assaulted by a pounding headache. No, I hadn't just become aware of it; the ache had been lurking even in my dreams.

Fuck this!

A soft groan escaped my lips as I pressed my palms against my throbbing temples. Memories from last night floated hazily in my mind, elusive and fragmented. I recalled being with my friends, pretending to have a good time, Jacob, Clara, and Dad on the patio. Then Dad and Clara had apparently left, but what happened next?

Fuck! What did I do after they left?

I pushed myself upright, bracing my weight on my hands as I sat on the edge of the bed.

"Think, Evelyn. Get your shit together and think," I urged my brain to piece together the events of last night, but all I got in return was a surge of pain, likely a consequence of drowning myself in alcohol. The sharp ache shot from my eyebrows to the back of my skull, and another groan slipped past my lips.

This headache was definitely an alcohol-induced one. My hangovers were usually just like this.

How many shots did I take last night? Did I stick to beer, or, worse, did I down every concoction Mason and Nancy brought?

Fuck! I just hoped I hadn't smoked any marijuana.

Probably not, considering Jacob was there. He would have probably snatched it away before I could even take a drag.

As I rose from the bed, I noticed my slippers neatly placed by the rug, which struck me as odd. I never bothered with slippers; usually, I'd endure the cold floor due to sheer laziness. Before I could ponder further, my attention was drawn to the unusual sight on the nightstand: a tablet lying there.

Slipping on the slippers, I made my way to the nightstand and picked up the tablet. It was the same pill I took to dull my headaches.

Clara!

This had to be her doing. To spare me from Dad's wrath, she must have left this tablet here for me.

I grabbed the glass of water and swallowed the tablet.

I couldn't thank her enough. Facing Dad's interrogation with a pounding headache would have been unbearable. Deciding not to dwell on the events of last night, I headed to the bathroom to freshen up, vigorously brushing my teeth to rid myself of the lingering scent of alcohol. But beneath it, there was another familiar scent, one I refused to acknowledge as his.

I must have been preoccupied with my friends last night. Even though I couldn't recall anything, I could trust myself enough—I wasn't about to let him near me again. Not ever.

Once I'd taken a proper shower and scrubbed away every sign of tiredness, I dried my hair and slipped on a comfy t-shirt and shorts. As I descended the stairs, the inevitable sight that I dreaded, greeted me in the morning: Jacob, sitting on the couch in his casual sweatpants and a black t-shirt that hugged his muscles like a second skin.

My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him. This was the very sight I deep down missed every damn morning—the messy hair, those beautiful veins in his arms standing out, and lips that looked plumper than ever. The morning view of him was worth a billion dollars, but even if I had a billion dollars, I wouldn't give him a single penny after what he did to me.

He noticed my presence, his eyes trailing from my feet before settling on my face, totally fixated, and I knew they wouldn't budge. Knowing him, I knew it for sure. So, without wasting my time, I headed for the kitchen, feeling his gaze track every step until I disappeared into the kitchen.

Clara was already in the kitchen, preparing our breakfast. I stood beside her. "Good morning, Clara."

"So, you're awake," she chuckled. "Had quite the fun last night, didn't you?"

"Yeah," I rolled my eyes, "Too much that I don't even remember what happened. By the way, thank you for leaving the pill for me—my headache was killing me."

Clara's response was unexpected. "Pill?" She looked at me confused, her hands pausing from slicing the tomato. "What are you talking about?"

My body froze in realization, dread crawling up my insides. "So, was it Dad?! God, I'm so dead. Did he see me drunk?"

"Wait, what are you talking about?" She dropped the knife and turned to me, her hands on her hips. "Did you get drunk last night?"

What the hell?