My Dad's Bestfriend

Chapter 159 Tension That Never Fades

Evelyn

As I had fucking expected, I couldn't get a wink of sleep the entire night. Wine didn't help, sleeping pills didn't help, and even trying to bring myself to orgasm didn't help, most probably because I refused to imagine his face. He was both my dream and my nightmare, my pleasure and my pain, the object of both my love and hate, my desires and regrets. Sometimes I wished I could erase every single memory of him, but then I realized how meaningless my life would be without them.

He made me miserable but at the same time he made me feel alive.

Fuck! How am I supposed to forget him?

I shook off my thoughts as I washed my face. "God, Evelyn! This is not the time to get fucking emotional and think of all the reasons why you should go back to him because, in reality, you fucking shouldn't!" Grumbling a few curses, I finished my routine and freshened up for the morning. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I noticed my puffy face despite not having slept at all. I might not show signs of exhaustion, but anyone looking into my eyes would see the frustration.

Being sexually inactive was a pain; being sexually frustrated was torture. But being sexually frustrated because you were left on the edge, right before you could come, was sickening. And that bastard knew it. That's why he did it.

It must have been a plan. To sit there, all sexy and glorious, half-naked and tempting, to lure me into a conversation and do that to me. And guess what? He succeeded. He fucking excelled!

"Argh! I hate him!" I groaned, walking out of the bathroom, and drying my hair with a towel. I wasn't in the mood for a blow-dry today. My mood was shit, and I didn't even want to go downstairs for breakfast, but my stomach was growling with hunger-I needed to eat. So, I made my way downstairs.

I thanked all the gods in my head as I saw only Dad and Clara seated at the breakfast table. I took a seat. "Good morning," I mumbled, diving into the pancakes ready for me, just the way I liked-covered in chocolate syrup. Clara! I didn't know what I'd do without her.

"Well, good morning," Clara smiled, sipping her juice. "How are you feeling today? Any headaches?" Clara's question confused me until I remembered I'd told them I was going out with Cameron. They probably assumed I'd drunk myself out of my wits.

"No headaches, Clara. I didn't drink," I lied.

"Well, that's a lie," Dad said, speaking up for the first time and putting his newspaper down, eyeing me suspiciously. "You came home late last night, and you were drunk."

My stomach clenched as I met Dad's gaze. "I wasn't drunk," I insisted, forcing a smile. "I just had a long night."

what?" he pressed,

away

Clara echoed, a hint of amusement in her voice.

on my pancakes. The last thing I needed was for them to pry any further. "Yeah, something like

has failed because we know you were drunk. Jacob told me he

That piece of...

How dare he!!!

drunk!" I shouted, frustration boiling over at the mention of Jacob. God, I wanted to kill him, choke him to

Jacob's voice suddenly boomed, and I watched as he walked out of the kitchen, holding a bottle of his protein shake. "So, there's no way you can cover this up with your lies." He took the seat opposite me, his messy hair making my

drank. You're quite a fan of alcohol, aren't you? Driving up to your ex to meet her in

at the mention of the incident, and the atmosphere thickened. Dad emitted a low whistle, probably enjoying this, and judging from his reaction,

said after a few

stop my jaw from dropping

with my lip between his teeth and all, but that didn't give him the guarantee that he could guess

mad that he exposed my

amusement turned into seriousness. He looked at me with a stern glare.

to forgive me that

the tension, scrambling for excuses, but it seemed futile. "Cameron threw a party, so I had a couple of

I forbid you from drinking because of those damn headaches

have a headache

the back of my head, sending a sharp pang through me. "Why the

I retorted with a scoff. "And why don't you ask him how he even smelled it on me? Isn't that your

eyebrows shot up as he finally caught on, his gaze turning

me, even