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."

night doing what?" he pressed, his eyes

said, glancing away and hoping

her

on my pancakes. The last thing I needed was for them to pry

because we know you were

That piece of...

How dare he!!!

shouted, frustration boiling over at the mention of

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 fingers itch to touch him.

me what exactly you smelled on me?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest, and challenging him. "What did I drink? Since you know I was drunk, you must know what I drank. You're quite a fan of alcohol, aren't you? Driving up to your ex to meet her in a hotel, all drunk, kinda

whistle, probably enjoying this, and judging from his reaction, he'd probably forgive me about this alcohol thing. Clara looked at both me and Jacob in horror before

few moments of silence.

had to stop my jaw from dropping

me last night, with my lip between his teeth and all, but that didn't

glared at him, clearly mad that

Dad's amusement turned into seriousness. He looked at me with a stern glare. "Is it true then?

he wasn't going to forgive me that

off the tension, scrambling for excuses, but it seemed futile. "Cameron threw a party, so I had a couple of shots. I wasn't exactly

because of those damn headaches you

a headache today,

brat!" Dad's hand connected with the back of my head, sending a sharp pang through me. "Why the hell did

clearly your friend couldn't handle seeing me enjoy myself," I retorted with a scoff. "And why don't you ask him how he even smelled it on me? Isn't that your

as he finally caught on, his gaze turning

even