Chapter 1 1

ASHLEY

I'm always the happiest when I'm at my best friend's house. As soon as I pull into the long driveway and see their gorgeous house on the

lake, I immediately feel at peace. I love Sara, and I'm sure that has a lot to do with it, but if I'm being completely honest, it's really because of her dad.

I've been in love with Mr. Mancini for as long as I can remember. I practically grew up in this house, and my entire childhood is filled with memories of him. He was like a second dad to me, but all that changed when I got older. I started to see him in a very different way. He was born in Italy and came to America when he was a teenager, and I began to be aware of those gorgeous Italian genes of his. His jet-black hair, dark eyes, and olive skin drove me crazy when I'd come over and stay the night, and it still does. He's completely ruined my chances of ever being with anyone else. I'm so obsessed with him that I've never even been on a date with anyone. High school for me was like a nunnery. The only action I ever saw was with my hand when I was thinking about my best friend's dad. I try not to think about how fucked up that is.

Pulling my car up to their garage, I park my sensible, and very used, Ford Focus behind Sara's red sports car and grab my bag from the back. Things are going to be different now, I tell myself. We just graduated high school, and I'm 18. Mr. Mancini has been divorced for years, and as far as I know, isn't dating anyone at the moment. Thank god! Maybe I can get him to see me as something other than just his daughter's best friend.

As soon as I ring the doorbell, Sara opens it in a rush and pulls me into a big hug.

"I'm so glad you're here!"

I laugh and hug her back. "We did just see each other a couple of days ago."

"Yeah, but it's different now that we've graduated. I don't miss school, but I miss seeing you every day."

I follow her inside and toss my bag by the stairs before we head into the kitchen to grab a drink. Climbing onto a stool, I wait while she digs around in the fridge. It's just Sara and her dad in this massive house, and they're wealthy enough to have a maid and a cook who comes by to prepare all their meals in advance, so when she pulls out a pitcher of what looks to be homemade lemonade, I know it's going to be delicious.

She pours us a couple of glasses and sits on the barstool next to me.

"I've already ordered us pizza for later, and there's a scary-looking movie that we can watch."

"You never last more than five minutes," I say with a grin. "You watch the whole movie from under a blanket or between your fingers. I don't know why you keep trying."

"I do not! I watch them." She shrugs and adds, "Most of them."

"That's all right. I don't mind giving you play-by-plays. I can be the brave one in this relationship."

She snorts and butts her shoulder against mine. "Very funny."

I take a drink of my lemonade and can't help but give a groan of appreciation. "Holy shit that's good."

"I know, right? Mrs. Johnson is the best. You remember her chocolate chip cookies?"

"Oh my god, so good," I say, remembering the last time I had them.

"Well, she heard you were coming and made us some."

"Tell her I said thanks and I love her."

Sara laughs and empties her glass in one long drink. "Will do."

When I'm done, we head up to her room, and I can't wait any longer, so

I say, "So, is it just you and me tonight?"

"Yeah, my dad is at some work thing. He said he'll be gone pretty much all night."

I try not to look as disappointed as I feel. There's always tomorrow. Maybe I'll be able to see him in the morning before I leave. It's hard to resist the urge to just lay down and curl into a ball, but I don't want to ruin the night for Sara, and I sure as fuck don't want her to know how I feel about her dad. Plastering a grin on my face, I do my best to enjoy our evening. It's not long before Sara has me laughing and the time starts to fly by.

The doorbell rings, letting us know the pizza's here, and I hang back while Sara gets the door. I have to stifle a laugh when the young delivery guy starts acting all flustered around her. Sara is gorgeous. How could she not be with a dad like hers? Men, old and young, can't help but fawn over her. Where my clothing tends to cover more than reveal, Sara's outfits are chosen to show as much flesh as possible. I've always felt like the less attractive, invisible friend, but I've never been angry or jealous of her. Okay, well maybe a little jealous, but not in a mean way. I love Sara to death, and she's never made me feel bad about myself. Quite the opposite. She loves my blonde hair and brown eyes and always tells me there's nothing wrong with being on the short side.

I park my butt on the stairs when it's obvious the delivery guy is in no rush to get away. When my stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl, she finally says goodbye and follows me into the kitchen with the pizza and a phone number.

"You're such a flirt., I say with a laugh, grabbing a couple of plates for us.

"Of course, I was flirting. Did you see how hot he was?"