My Bestie's Dad Likes Me Wet-Chapter 19 Date Night

Nova – POV

"You’ve changed."

Lena’s voice was smug, cutting through the tiny sound of my phone speaker. I watched her dramatic eye-roll on video call, paired with Katie’s side-eye from the corner of the screen.

I’d dodged their calls for days now, even weeks, successfully hiding behind internship stress or outright silence, because how do I even explain the chaos that is Grant Calloway?

It’s not just office stress. It’s Grant stress. It’s us stress.

It’s me-not-even-knowing-if-there-is-an-us stress.

"It’s nothing,"

I lied smoothly, forcing a smile. "Just internship stress. Katie, I like your new hair color."

Deflect. When talking with your nosy roommates, always deflect.

Katie, the eternal attention vampire, perked up immediately, preening like a cat in sunlight.

"I know, right? It’s giving me vibes like, totally bold, totally on brand. I told my stylist I wanted something unapologetic, like ’I walk into a room and everyone shuts up.’"

Her words blurred into white noise. My brain drifted to the novel I’d finished at 3 a.m. it was a filthy ménage with two dominant men who ruined the heroine in every delicious way.

I should’ve just admired it. Instead, I imagined two Grants pinning me down, neither willing to let me breathe unless I begged.

Motherrr help me, I wanted it.

When the silence dragged, I blinked back to reality. Both Lena and Katie were staring at me like they’d caught me red-handed.

Shit.

"Fess up, girl. You’re fooling no one," Lena said, folding her arms like a detective.

"Nothing. I was just... distracted by—"

"Stop it, Nova." Katie’s tone snapped sharp, and her narrowed eyes screamed liar. Lena nodded like a co-conspirator.

I tried to laugh it off. "I’m serious."

"You’ve been giving Tyler crimson red flags," Lena pressed. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Tyler. Oh, God. Not this again.

"Lena, that boy is obsessed with you. It’s giving second-option energy,"

I shot back, hoping to redirect the fire.

"He’s just shy! Don’t misinterpret him," Lena defended, which earned her a side glare from Katie.

"Shy?" Katie scoffed. "More like creepy obsessed. But still... I think you two should hang out. Go on an actual date. Get to know each other better."

I froze. "Wait—what?"

The devilish smirks on their faces told me everything. My so-called best friends had already conspired against me.

Just like that, I was strong-armed into agreeing to a date with Tyler, the last thing I wanted, but maybe... maybe it would clear the Grant fog from my head.

Maybe if I forced myself into someone else’s orbit, I could stop orbiting him.

Except... I already knew I was lying to myself or maybe I wasn’t.

Later that evening

My bedroom looked like a crime scene of fashion casualties with piles of rejected clothes thrown on the bed, hangers dangling like broken soldiers, accessories strewn across the floor.

After much debate (and bullying), Lena and Katie settled on a pair of skinny jeans and a fitted top.

Of course, they thought I’d wear it as-is. Cute.

They didn’t know me well enough.

As soon as the call ended, I grabbed my oversized cardigan, the armor I always returned to. The shield between me and the world.

The efficient barrier that said: don’t expect too much from me, don’t read too much into me.

If Tyler wanted to see me as some girl worth chasing, fine. But he wouldn’t get to see me as anything more.

Because deep down, I knew the truth: the only man who got under my skin, who stripped me bare without lifting a finger, was the one I swore I hated. The one I couldn’t stop thinking about and I really need to stop thinking about someone who might be pounding any random person right now.

•••••••••••••

The restaurant he picked was small, tucked between a laundromat and a tattoo shop, the kind of place you’d miss if you weren’t looking.

Tyler had chosen it "because it felt low pressure," and for once, I didn’t hate the idea.

He opened the door for me, awkward but earnest, like chivalry hadn’t gotten the memo it was outdated. Inside, it smelled like roasted garlic and melted butter, and the warm lights made everything look softer, almost intimate.

Great. The perfect thing I needed. Fake romance vibes.

I tugged my cardigan tighter around me as we slid into a booth. He smiled at me in that way people do when they’re trying not to look nervous, fiddling with the edge of his menu like it might run away.

"You look... nice," he said, and it wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t Grant’s brand of cutting praise that felt like a threat and a caress at once. It was clumsy. Human. Sweet.

"Thanks," I muttered, eyes scanning the drink list even though all I wanted was water.

And then he started talking. About books. About poetry, actually, which was almost worse, because he wasn’t quoting the generic lines every guy on the internet reposted.

He was dissecting, Really Dissecting. Like he actually read them.

I caught myself leaning in, caught myself unconsciously laughing at something stupid he said about character development.

I even told him about the novel I’d been obsessing over, the one that had me thinking sinful thoughts about two Grants instead of one, and he didn’t flinch or look at me weird. He Didn’t judge, He just asked questions, nodded along like my chaos made sense.

And for a second, just a flicker, I felt light. Like maybe I wasn’t crazy and maybe I could want something simple.

By the time dessert came, I realized I hadn’t checked my phone once. Not even to see if my friends had texted.

He walked me out after we spent over an hour at the diner, carrying the bouquet he’d bought me from a flower stand down the street. Daisies, not roses. Bright, cheerful and harmless like he was trying to be.

"Can I walk you home?" he asked, and when I hesitated, he added quickly, "Just to make sure you get back safe."

He didn’t mean anything by it. I could tell. He wasn’t like that.

So I let him.

We strolled the quiet streets, his hand brushing mine once or twice, but he never pushed or grabbed and he never demanded.

He was a warm and steady presence beside me, not a storm like you know who...

When we got to the looming gate of the mansion, it serves as a reminder of who I am. I’m not a regular girl going through her soft life phase.

I’m a nerd living in a temporary prison with her nemesis just because I don’t have the luxury of an option and did I mention how my heart flutter at the thought of him?

Tyler handed me the bouquet, his smile shy and adorable.

"I had a really good time. Maybe... we could do this again? Somewhere quieter."

And I should’ve said no. I really should have shut it down before it grew into something messy. But the walls I’d built against him cracked under the weight of his gentleness.

"Yeah," I heard myself say. "I’d like that."

We hugged, chaste and brief, nothing that would make my skin burn. Yet as soon as his arms left me, I felt the hollow ache return.

Because the truth was brutal: Tyler was safe, kind, maybe even perfect. But I walked through the door clutching his flowers and still wondered what it would feel like if Grant had been the one waiting on the other side.

I didn’t need to wonder that much. His voice rolled down the stairwell before I even reached the landing, that smooth, taunting drawl that lived under my skin like a splinter.

I crept up quietly, bouquet clutched against my chest like a pathetic shield, praying I could just slip past unnoticed.

But the universe hates me.

The sight that greeted me at the top of the stairs carved itself into my brain:

Grant was sprawled like sin incarnate on the velvet cushion, legs spread wide, shirt undone, the picture of careless power.

A redhead knelt between his thighs, her head bobbing in a rhythm that made bile sting the back of my throat.

Beside him, a blonde in nothing but fishnets pressed her oversized breasts against his face, laughing like she already owned him.

My lungs forgot how to work.

All the lightness from dinner, the fragile safety of Tyler’s smile, shattered on the marble floor beneath my feet.

Of course. Of course while I was out convincing myself I could want simple, Grant Calloway was being worshipped like the devil he is.

And the worst part? The sickest, ugliest part?

My body didn’t collapse with rage. It flushed hot. My pulse hammered. My knees threatened to buckle with the same hunger I swore I hated.

I gripped the daisies tighter until the stems snapped in my fist. Harmless flowers against a dangerous man. Tyler’s safe world against Grant’s consuming fire.

And standing there, trembling, I couldn’t tell if I wanted to scream, cry, or drop to my knees right beside that redhead.

While I was still sorting through the chaos in my head, Grant’s husky drawl sliced through the air.

"There’s space for one more."

The blonde with the fishnets tilted her head, smirk sharp as a blade. "Or she could get lost."

Her laugh dripped with cruelty, with ownership, like I was nothing more than a ghost haunting his house.

And so I did.