ON SUNDAY, I feel like I'm in someone else's body. There's no way I'm feeling so motivated and chipper to prepare for the day, especially since I have lunch with my father.

On the first Sunday of every month, we always meet for lunch. He wouldn't let me say no when I moved into this house, and since he purchased it for me, I felt like I couldn't say no even if I wanted to.

And I know he loves me, I know he's sorry for not being there. His career required a lot out of him, and he created a legacy. His lifestyle allowed me to live lavishly and never want for a damn thing, so I should be grateful, but I can't help but wonder what life would be like if he wasn't famous. What kind of person would I be if my Dad had been able to play ball out in the yard with me as a kid or play my favorite video games with me? What if he was just an average person?

I sling a black t-shirt and pair of black skinny jeans on before heading into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I can't help fighting a smile when I spot Emery's skincare products littered on the counter. She's getting more comfortable here the longer she stays, and it should be scaring me, but instead...I'm smiling, and the sensation is foreign.

Maybe it's because I know that fucking Emery isn't turning into anything serious. She hasn't moved in with me. She doesn't want to live here, so it's not like I'm settling down. She's just staying here until she gets back on her feet, and we're both content with being alone, but now we get the bonus of sex, and by sex, I mean good sex. Really fucking good sex. So, I have no reason to panic. There's no reason to run away from anything.

Emery left for her shift at the hardware store early this morning, so she was already gone by the time I get downstairs. I wanted to do what I promised her yesterday and wake her up with my tongue. The thought was tempting, but I know I need to restrain myself.

I've waited for this opportunity with Emery my entire life, and if I take this too fast, this thing between us will become more than what I want, and then I'll get scared of my feelings and run away from them like I always do.

My Dad is waiting at one of my favorite Mexican restaurants. He's posing for a photo with a fan, and I'm half-tempted to roll my eyes, but I refrain from doing so and wait against the door until he's finished. He knows I've always hated fame and everything to do with being in the spotlight, so he sends me a sympathetic smile before he tugs me into his chest. "Sorry, I'll turn down any other pictures today if I'm asked, alright?"

I nod and follow him inside. The waitress bats her eyes flirtatiously at the famous Cameron Holden and sways her hips a little too much as she leads us to a booth in the back, per his request. After we sit, she points to her favorite drinks on the menu, jutting her breasts practically in his face, but she fails to realize my Dad is completely obsessed with my mother. He leans away and politely asks for another waitress, her cheeks burning as she scurries off, completely mortified.

People have always said I looked like a spitting image of my father. My brown curly hair stemmed from him, as well as the prominent jawline and cheekbones. The only trait I got from my mother was her blue eyes instead of my father's emerald ones, and for a while, I used my looks to my advantage. Throughout high school, I'd pull different girls just because I could. If I couldn't have my father's attention, I could at least put something he gave me to good use, right?

But my mother raised me to treat women well, and breaking hearts after a while didn't make me feel better. It just made me feel even shittier. And after hearing about what a douche my father was in high school, I immediately stopped playing with girls' hearts. I strived to be the complete opposite of him in every way, thus all the piercings. It wasn't only because I liked them, but because they were something my father wouldn't ever get himself.

He scans my face, narrowing his eyes. "So, what's new? How's school?"

"It's going good. Busy, but good."

"And things with Emery? How is that?"

The new waitress, a woman with more sense, takes our drink orders of lemonade and a Sprite before she disappears again with a dip of her chin. I almost forgot my father knew about Emery living with me until I remember Mason ratting me out right before him the other night at dinner.

I shrug and place my napkin across my lap. "Fine."

"Just fine?" He arches a brow. "I'm assuming it's better than fine."

"And what makes you assume that?"

"Well, for starters..." He leans forward with his elbows on the table, a tiny grin on his face. "For the first time, your drink order with me doesn't consist of liquor. I don't think that's a coincidence."

I shrug and let the mariachi music fill the silence. "Okay, so I'm in a good mood today. That doesn't mean it has something to do with her."

Telling my Dad about Emery means having him jump off the deep end and invite her for dinner behind my back. He'd stop at nothing to gain insight into my personal life, and it frustrates the hell out of me. Since retiring, he's tried too hard to get back into my life. He needs to understand that mending a relationship like ours takes time. Rushing the process is only going to make things worse.

Plus, having Emery meet my family would give her a glimpse into my life. Sure, she went to school with the other rich kids, but Liam's family never approved of her background, so she wasn't allowed over. She was never truly immersed in our luxury lifestyle; if she was around it, I'm sure she'd have shit to say about it. She'd judge it.

"I don't think you'd tell me even if something was going on between you two," he admits.

"You're probably right."

"But if there is, just know we're happy for you. I know you've been into her for quite some time..."

"You heard that from Izzy," I say with annoyance. "You didn't know I was into her because you never asked."

"I didn't need to. It was written all over your face whenever you'd fight with your sister about it.  Despite what you think, Everett, I do know you, which is exactly why I can tell you're lying, and that's okay. Like I've told you before, I understand your reluctance, but I'll never stop trying. I'm done with football as much as you'll think I'll change my mind and go back. You won't be able to push me away. Never again."

I blink away the stinging sensation forming in my eyes, ripping my gaze to stare out the restaurant's windows. His words hit like lightning in my heart because I know it's the truth. I push away every good feeling I have for him because I'm afraid he'll leave again. I'm afraid he'll change his mind, and I'll go back to being a kid where I'd go weeks on end with just a five-minute Facetime conversation—the kid who just needed his Dad.

But believing him and opening up about Emery won't change anything. He can't officially meet Emery because nothing is going on between us. As of now, yes, we crossed a boundary, but nothing serious can come out of this, so introducing her to my parents would be a waste of time. They met her in passing when Liam and I would go to the movies, but it never resulted in them having a full-blown conversation.

And it's bothering the hell out of me that I'm even thinking about this. Why does it feel like a sliver of me wants to introduce her to them?

Just for a second, I allow myself to think of how incredible they'd find her. How witty and funny and smart she is. How hard she's worked for everything she has in her life, how damn prideful it's made her, and how much that pride seems to get under my skin in the best way.

Our drinks landing in front of us pulls me away from my thoughts. My father is still staring at me, waiting for a response, but I can't think of one to give. I won't tell him he's wrong about Emery because he isn't. I've fought these feelings for her my entire life, and I thought that by fucking her, it'd settle them down, but they have only seemed to intensify.

I want things between us to be strictly sex because I know I can't provide her with anything more than that, as much as I may want it. I can't even accept my own father's love. How would I ever be able to love someone else? I don't deserve it. I treat my whole family and everyone around me like shit. I'm a miserable, brooding asshole. Emery's own words to describe me. So I squash it down immediately, whatever feelings I might have for her and whatever hope thrives in my heart.

Keeping things casual is what's for the best.

Author's Note:

As promised :)

The next update will be Friday! But please don't let the comments/votes drop. They inspire me to keep writing this story!!!

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