My Bestie's Dad Likes Me Wet-Chapter 51 Scum

NOVA POV

The ride home was dead. Dead air, dead silence, like somebody had sucked all the sound out of the car and replaced it with this thick weight that sat on my chest.

Maybe it felt this way because I was riding alone this time, no Lena laughing in my ear, no Katie yelling over the music, no stupid off-key singing from the back seat. Just me. Just the driver. And Grant’s ghost still clinging to my skin.

The funny thing is, I kept thinking about the ride that brought me here just a few hours ago. That ride felt like freedom. Like I could forget who I was for a second and pretend to be someone new, someone reckless.

Right now felt like the opposite. Because I wasn’t free anymore. Grant made sure of that.

His voice was still stuck in my head, sharp, deep and possessive, like it had hooked itself into my brain: no man deserves to see you in my shirt but me. And the way he said it, the way he threatened to take the driver’s eyes out if he so much as glanced at me in the rearview mirror—Motherrr, it was crazy.

It was ridiculous. It should have pissed me off more than it did. But it didn’t. Or maybe it did, but right there beside the anger, there was this warm, burning part of me that liked it. Liked being claimed. Liked being wanted to the point of insanity.

He kissed me like he meant it, like the night could end right there and he wouldn’t care as long as his mouth was on mine. He kissed me until my lungs burned, until my legs shook.

Then he pulled back and slapped my ass like he had every right to, and sent me off like some treasured possession he was reluctant to let go of.

And the thing is... I wanted more. I wanted to follow him. I wanted to be dragged back inside that club, dragged back against a wall, on my knees, screaming his name loud enough the whole damn city would know it.

Instead of all that beautiful drama, here I am.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the building, the engine humming like it was impatient for me to get out. I adjusted the hem of his shirt, tugging it down over my thighs before I pushed the door open.

My bare legs caught the chill of the night air and I moved carefully, like if I stepped too fast I’d flash the whole street. Not that anyone was here at least, I thought no one was. But it was late, and late meant shadows, and shadows always had eyes.

I closed the door and the driver didn’t even wait before his car just glided off, tail lights disappearing down the street until it was only me, the hum of the streetlamp above, and the heavy dark pressing in around me.

That’s when I felt it.

It wasn’t noise, not at first. It was like an itch on the back of your neck, the crawl of something invisible sliding down your spine, the way your body knows before your brain catches up. Someone was watching me.

I sped up. My kitten heels slapping against the pavement louder than I meant, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t, even as my heart was already thudding hard, too fast. When I reached the gate, hoping to finally take cover in the comfort of a familiar environment, I tugged at the door, nothing. I tugged again, and I discovered it was locked up.

What the hell?

It was never locked. Not this early. Not with drunk people stumbling back and forth all the time. My stomach flipped. Our room key wasn’t with me, it was with one of the girls. All I had was my phone, and even that had a flat tire and was useless in my sweaty hand.

"Whore."

The word sliced the auspicious silence and I froze. My brain wanted to believe I imagined it, but the goosebumps racing down my arms told the truth.

"Whore."

Again. Louder this time.

My hand smacked the gate, banging loud, praying someone inside would hear. The metal rattled and clanged, the sound echoing down the street, but it didn’t drown out the next words.

"You deserve to die."

My heart stopped. Literally stopped. My hand froze mid-knock. The night tilted, felt thinner, sharper. Whoever it was, this doesn’t sound like a drunk teasing, this wasn’t some prank. This was... real. Too real.

"Show yourself," I said, faking confidence even though my voice broke halfway through.

A low laugh rolled out of the shadows. "And if I don’t want to?"

Female. Definitely female. Familiar too, though I couldn’t place it. My brain scrambled, flipping through every voice I knew.

"Then fuck off," I snapped. I tried to make it sound hard, but I could hear the shake in it. I wasn’t fooling anyone. Least of all her.

"You think you’re better than everyone else?"

Her voice dripped thick and ugly with jealousy. My chest ached. Better than everyone else? Motherrr, if only she knew how hard it was just to get out of bed some days. How I fought with myself every damn day just to breathe.

"Look," I said, trying to sound calmer, "if you’ve got a problem with me, we can talk tomorrow. It’s one in the morning, I’m freezing, and I just want to get inside."

"It’s because you’re a whore." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"You said that already. Do you have the key or not?"

Her tone snapped, sharp enough to cut glass. "You think this is a joke?"

And then I knew she was closer. I felt it. Her voice shifted, thickened, and I could feel the heat of her breath before I even turned my head. My back pressed harder against the gate, my eyes darted through the shadows and that’s when I saw it.

A glint like silver, or should I say steel catching the faint light.

My stomach dropped straight through me.

There was only one person. Only one person this unhinged, this bitter, this familiar.

"Sandy...?"

"Yes, bitch."

She stepped out just enough for the streetlight to paint her face. Her eyes looked wild, fevered, like she hadn’t blinked in hours.

"You’re not better than me. Don’t you ever fucking think you are."

My throat bobbed. My voice came out thin. "Okay." Anything to keep her knife-hand from twitching closer.

"Stay away from my man."

"Your... man?"

She shoved her phone in my face so close I had to jerk my head back. The glow lit her features and his, her partner in the picture being Grant. His face filled the screen. Grant had his arm draped around her shoulders, Grant smiling a rare, real smile that I’d only ever seen glimpses of. And her, blushing like the world was hers.

My heart stopped beating at the harsh reality. That was him. That was Grant. Same ice demeanor Grant that only cracks when he’s dominating me midfuck.

"He’s mine. He’s back where he belongs. And you—" she jabbed the phone so close it almost smacked me—"you’re nothing but a temporary hole. Look at the date. Yesterday. We’re the real deal."

My throat burned as I swallowed. I forced my voice steady. "Okay. But I wasn’t dragging him with you."

Her hand twitched, and I flinched, expecting a slap. But it was the other hand that had my stomach twisting, the one holding the knife, the one catching the light.

"I can smell him on you," she spat. "His shirt. His scent. Don’t fucking play dumb. I know exactly what you were trying tonight. Pussy trap him. That’s all you know how to do."

"It’s not what you think." My voice cracked. My eyes stayed glued to the blade.

She leaned in, her whisper slicing colder than the knife ever could. "I wonder what my stepdaughter would think. Knowing her best friend has been fucking her dad."

Stepdaughter? Does she have a .... Oh, she prolly means Lena. My knees nearly buckled at the realization.

"Sandy... please. It’s not like that."

"Oh, it is." Her smile was crooked and feral. "And lucky me. I’ve got Lena’s number. And she loves a good story."

"Don’t—" My voice broke, tears stinging my eyes. "Please, Sandy. Don’t do this."

"You don’t mean it."

"I do! I swear—I swear on my life I’ll stay away from Grant."

Her grin widened. She liked this. Watching me crumble.

"Good. But that’s not enough."

She swiped through before lifting her phone again. Another video, this is more grainy but unmistakable. Grant’s hand on me, with his body crowding me at the club, too intimate, too damning.

My stomach twisted into knots. "Sandy, I’m sorry. I swear this won’t—"

"Should I send this to Lena?"

"No!" The word ripped out of me, raw. Tears blurred my sight, streaming down my face as my hands shook in front of me. "Please. Don’t. I’ll do anything."

Her knife-hand lifted, her grin slow and cruel. "What will you give me in exchange for my silence?"

"Anything you want." The words flew out of my mouth desperately.

"How about you disappear from Grant’s life?"

"Done." I didn’t even think. My chest shattered but I didn’t care. "Done."

Her eyes gleamed. "Not just done. You’ll help me first. Get me back my secretary job at his company. Then you vanish without goodbye or any fucking emotional explanations. You have to ghost him. Forever."

The knife hovered close enough to reflect my tears. I nodded, my voice broken. "Fine."

She smirked before throwing something metallic clinked against the pavement between us. I hesitated before glancing down.

A key.

"Good girl."

Then she melted back into the shadows, leaving me shaking against the gate.

I didn’t bend to pick up the key until her footsteps were gone. Until I was sure she was gone. When I finally crouched, my hands were trembling so hard I nearly dropped it.

I didn’t care how she got it. I didn’t want to know.

And I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask where she got the key to my hostel and how come she was outside expecting me to come back home around one in the morning.