Page 24 of Her Possessive Daddies

"We should..." I wave vaguely at the mess, my head swimming pleasantly from the vodka cranberries.

Tessa picks up a cup, tilts it sideways, and watches as a drop of something purple drips onto our already-stained carpet. "Oops."

"That's not helping." I bend down to grab an empty chip bag and immediately regret it as the room spins. "Okay, maybe we shouldn't."

"Tomorrow?" Tessa steadies herself against the wall. "Tomorrow sounds better."

"Tomorrow." I nod, then stop because that makes everything wobble. "First person up makes coffee?"

"Deal." She stumbles toward her room, then turns back. "Hey Abs?"

"Mm?"

"I'm glad you're happy again. Even if it's because of some sexy grandpa."

"He's forty-something, not eighty." I feel a vibration in my pocket - speak of the devil. "And I'm not... I mean, we haven't even..."

"Girl, I saw your face every time your phone lit up tonight. You're smitten."

"Go to bed, Tess."

She blows me a kiss and disappears down the hall. I make it to my own room, kicking off my shoes and falling face-first onto my bed. The soft ping of a chime makes my heart race.

Sweet dreams.

What is he doing with me? He’s so sweet…..too sweet. This can’t be real. I wonder if he’s on the other end of these texts, laughing at me. I have to know what this is.

My drunk, slippery fingers hover over the phone screen, vodka cranberry courage coursing through my veins. The question that's been nagging at me since our first text finally spills out:

What exactly is this? Is this some kind of midlife crisis thing? Like, talking to me makes you feel young again? Or am I just your latest pet project?

The moment I hit send, my stomach lurches. Not from the alcohol, but from the instant regret that follows. I drop my phone onto my bedspread like it's suddenly burning hot.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god." I hold my palms against my eyes until I see stars. "What the fuck did I just do?”

My phone starts vibrating. Corey's name lights up the screen.

My heart hammers against my ribs. The room tilts slightly as I sit up, staring at his name like it might bite me.

"No, no, no." I push my pillow against my face. "Please don't call. Please just pretend I didn't?—"

The phone keeps buzzing. Insistent. Unavoidable.

Through the wall, I hear Tessa's muffled voice singing along to what sounds like "All Too Well" - Taylor's version, of course. The irony of the age-gap anthem isn't lost on me.

My thumb hovers over the green answer button. What's worse - answering and facing what I just said, or letting it go to voicemail and dying of embarrassment tomorrow?

The phone continues its persistent dance across my comforter.

"Fuck it." I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

My voice comes out smaller than intended, muffled against my pillow.

"Abbie. What’s going on?”

“I shouldn’t have answered. I’m sorry.” My tongue is betraying me right now.

“Are you drunk, sweetheart?”

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