Chapter 1
I wished that I could come right out and say it, just throw my head back and announce to the world that I had a huge, inescapable crush on my best friend’s dad.
But that wasn’t something I felt like I could admit.
“Hey, Loren, ready to go?”
I peered up from my seat beneath a shady tree on campus to see Shawn, my best friend, standing over me, smiling. And that was the main reason I couldn’t admit my crush—because Shawn was the only person I would want to tell, and he probably didn’t want to hear about me jonesing after his dad.
“You’re out of class early, aren’t you?” I asked, taking his proffered hand and allowing myself to be hauled up from my grassy seat.
“No, I was actually late,” he said, looking down at his cellphone. “It’s already almost five o’clock. Daydreaming again?”
If he only knew.
Put yourself in my shoes. When I first met Patrick Paulson, I was an awkward college freshman in a new city; I was eager to make friends and had been invited over to a veritable palace by Shawn, Patrick’s son, for a pool party.
Imagine, if you will, walking, stunned, into a fully-enclosed indoor swimming pool, bright sunshine magnified by the glass ceiling, shocked speechless by the finery of your new friend’s house, and then nearly knocked backward by the vision of some water god leaving his liquid world and gracing the rest of us land dwellers with his presence.
Patrick’s body gleamed, as he walked across the patio to get a towel, water droplets turned golden by the sun overhead. Water sluiced off his bare, cut torso and abdomen, which heaved slightly as he panted. He must have just finished with some laps or some other heavenly pursuit. He was fair-haired with green eyes; Shawn had apparently taken after his mother more than his father.
Patrick invited us to stay as long as we wanted.
“You could join us,” I said, feeling shy for one of the few times in my life.
He had cocked his head at me before grinning—wide, white, perfect. “Maybe next time,” he said, winking at me.
It was enough to set my freshman heart to pounding and ignited fantasies that made me blush in the light of day.
Fast forward to my life now, as a senior at the same college, best friends with Shawn, and in possession of a throbbing, aching crush that I’d nursed tenderly over the course of nearly four years.
It wasn’t the kind of thing I could tell anyone, especially since the only person I would tell—Shawn—was kind of related to the subject of my long sighs and frequent fantasies.
It also didn’t help that I tended to spend so much time at the Paulsons’ house.
Maybe if I’d have removed myself from that situation, instead of spending almost every afternoon and evening hanging out with Shawn, I could’ve ignored an eighteen year old’s crush on her best friend’s dad.
But as the years passed, I would notice…things. Things I couldn’t be sure of. Things I didn’t dare linger over too long. The way Patrick would always find time to say hello. He had to at least like me, didn’t he? Maybe he was just being polite, but he’d always offer me food, drink, or anything he had on hand that he thought I might like.
I would turn around to say something and find him staring at me. He’d quickly flick his gaze elsewhere, but it was too late. I’d seen it, and I tallied it in my inner ledger of evidence that Patrick was returning my crush.
I was about to turn twenty-two, and I was more than aware of when a guy liked me or took interest in me. But as a senior here in San Francisco, aware that one chapter of my life was about to close just as another one was opening, I felt a small tingle of urgency. I’d admired Patrick from afar for years, trying to guess what he might think about me. Who knew where I’d end up after graduation?
I just didn’t want to sigh to myself ten years from now and regret not having pursued something that felt so real to me.
“Loren?”
I’d
I wished that I could come right out and say it, just throw my head back and announce to the world that I had a huge, inescapable crush on my best friend’s dad.
But that wasn’t something I felt like I could admit.
“Hey, Loren, ready to go?”
I peered up from my seat beneath a shady tree on campus to see Shawn, my best friend, standing over me, smiling. And that was the main reason I couldn’t admit my crush—because Shawn was the only person I would want to tell, and he probably didn’t want to hear about me jonesing after his dad.
“You’re out of class early, aren’t you?” I asked, taking his proffered hand and allowing myself to be hauled up from my grassy seat.
“No, I was actually late,” he said, looking down at his cellphone. “It’s already almost five o’clock. Daydreaming again?”
If he only knew.
Put yourself in my shoes. When I first met Patrick Paulson, I was an awkward college freshman in a new city; I was eager to make friends and had been invited over to a veritable palace by Shawn, Patrick’s son, for a pool party.
Imagine, if you will, walking, stunned, into a fully-enclosed indoor swimming pool, bright sunshine magnified by the glass ceiling, shocked speechless by the finery of your new friend’s house, and then nearly knocked backward by the vision of some water god leaving his liquid world and gracing the rest of us land dwellers with his presence.
Patrick’s body gleamed, as he walked across the patio to get a towel, water droplets turned golden by the sun overhead. Water sluiced off his bare, cut torso and abdomen, which heaved slightly as he panted. He must have just finished with some laps or some other heavenly pursuit. He was fair-haired with green eyes; Shawn had apparently taken after his mother more than his father.
Patrick invited us to stay as long as we wanted.
“You could join us,” I said, feeling shy for one of the few times in my life.
He had cocked his head at me before grinning—wide, white, perfect. “Maybe next time,” he said, winking at me.
It was enough to set my freshman heart to pounding and ignited fantasies that made me blush in the light of day.
Fast forward to my life now, as a senior at the same college, best friends with Shawn, and in possession of a throbbing, aching crush that I’d nursed tenderly over the course of nearly four years.
It wasn’t the kind of thing I could tell anyone, especially since the only person I would tell—Shawn—was kind of related to the subject of my long sighs and frequent fantasies.
It also didn’t help that I tended to spend so much time at the Paulsons’ house.
Maybe if I’d have removed myself from that situation, instead of spending almost every afternoon and evening hanging out with Shawn, I could’ve ignored an eighteen year old’s crush on her best friend’s dad.
But as the years passed, I would notice…things. Things I couldn’t be sure of. Things I didn’t dare linger over too long. The way Patrick would always find time to say hello. He had to at least like me, didn’t he? Maybe he was just being polite, but he’d always offer me food, drink, or anything he had on hand that he thought I might like.
I would turn around to say something and find him staring at me. He’d quickly flick his gaze elsewhere, but it was too late. I’d seen it, and I tallied it in my inner ledger of evidence that Patrick was returning my crush.
I was about to turn twenty-two, and I was more than aware of when a guy liked me or took interest in me. But as a senior here in San Francisco, aware that one chapter of my life was about to close just as another one was opening, I felt a small tingle of urgency. I’d admired Patrick from afar for years, trying to guess what he might think about me. Who knew where I’d end up after graduation?
I just didn’t want to sigh to myself ten years from now and regret not having pursued something that felt so real to me.
“Loren?”
I’d
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