Dirty Seduction

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.”