Page 16 of DILF

“Good. Your fever broke around four in the morning.”

“You checked up on me all night?”

She nods, the mug of coffee covering most of her face. Her hair is sticking out everywhere and she looks half asleep, probably exhausted after being up all night.

“You should probably call in sick. Doubt you’re ready to go back,” she says.

“Already done.”

She stands, puts the mug in the dishwasher and stretches her arms in the air and her neck side to side. Her shirt lifts in the process, and my eyes automatically drift to the exposed skin of her belly. “Going home to shower and dress. I’ll check up on you later. You should let Charlie know you’re doing better.”

As she walks out, I reach for her wrist. I know I shouldn’t touch her. I want her too much to have any contact with her, but I just can’t help myself. Maybe it’s the lingering fever fucking with my head.

“Thank you, Lily.” It’s more a breath than it is a whisper.

She swallows hard and looks down at where our skin touches, and I know she feels the electrical charge between us, but she doesn’t say anything back. She just nods and walks away.

The rest of the day I spend trying not to think about Lily. She’s become an uncontrollable obsession. At noon, she sends me a text asking how I feel, which I answered, “Fine.” I know I’m being an asshole but I’m trying to keep my distance and some semblance of propriety. If she hates me, she wouldn’t tempt me any further, right?

By early evening, I’m feeling much better, and I’m almost back to my old self again except for the excessive thoughts of Lily that run through my mind. That freshly shaved, glistening pussy, with just the tiniest bit of hair. The way her juices leaked down to her puckered little ass. How my dick would feel if it was inside of her. It’s on a constant, perverted reel in my brain that I can’t shake out.

It’s early evening when I hear a car pull up to her house. Like a creepy stalker, I look outside. It’s Lars’ goddamn yellow Audi with the stupid spoiler.

I’m about to go over and make the asshole leave when I see Lily open her front door. She stands outside as if blocking his entrance, and there’s some talking back and forth before he turns and leaves. He doesn’t seem mad though, and I’m curious as to what happened. But before she closes the door, I see her look over to my house. It’s late and I don’t know if she can see me looking at her through the window, but I turn around quickly.

Not twenty minutes later, I hear the car again, and again I’m looking through the window. The kid is now getting out of his car with a bag in his hand. He knocks on her door and this time, when she opens it, she looks slightly agitated, but she smiles when he hands her the bag. Smiles! I want to rip off his head. He’s making her happy, and it reminds me that I’m a jealous piece of shit. Because with me she doesn’t smile. She scowls, she glares, and, fuck…she comes. After a few more words, he finally leaves. What the hell is going on between them?

The next morning, I wake up feeling completely back to normal. It must’ve been a twenty-four-hour bug and it definitely kicked my ass while it lasted, but Lily being there made me feel infinitely better. I head to work as usual, in a gray suit and blue tie, and by late afternoon I’m home again. Lily hasn’t texted or called to see how I’m feeling, and for some reason that pisses me off. One moment she’s acting like my nurse and the next it’s like I don’t exist. Charlie called and texted most of the day, though. Since there’s nothing for me to do at home, I quickly change into gym shorts and a t-shirt and decide to go work on my bike. A few minutes later the fucking yellow car parks next door.

Secretly, I’m thrilled I haven’t seen it overnight yet, but it still pisses me off that he keeps coming by. I don’t even pretend not to look. I wipe my face with my shirt and cross my arms. The moron is knocking at the door, and no one opens it. He knocks again and waits. I see him pull out his phone and call someone, presumably Lily. After a few moments he turns and heads to his car, but he sees me watching. “Oh...uh. Hey, Charlotte’s dad, right?”

I nod, annoyed by his presence. “Do you know if Lily’s home?” He points over his shoulder. “Her car’s here.”

“Probably home, then.”

“She’s not answering.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to you.” I know I’m being a dick, but I couldn’t care less. By the flinch on his face, I can tell my boldness surprises him.

“No, that’s not it. She was sick yesterday and now she’s not—”

I step around the bike. Fuck, is that why she hasn’t called me all day or most of yesterday? “She’s sick?”

“Yeah. I brought her some soup and then left. I’ve been calling all day and she hasn’t answered once. I’m worried.”

She was home yesterday and most of today, all alone. Sick. I feel like the worst kind of asshole. Here I was, thinking that she just got over whatever feelings she had about me and was going about her day when in fact she was at home sick, probably because of me.

I don’t bother knocking. If she’s sleeping or feeling weak, I don’t want her to have to get up and open the door. I have a spare key to the house, just like her parents had one of mine. In all the years I’ve lived here, I’ve never had to use it. I hope it’s still the same key. The douche is following me, and I need him to just go. He’s breathing down my neck as I rifle through a Ziploc full of keys. “I’ve got it. Go home.”

“I don’t think so, man. What if she’s hurt or something? That’s my girlfriend in there.”

Girlfriend? What? Since when? I find the key and turn around. “What’re you going to do if she’s hurt, huh? Her parents entrusted me with her care. I’ve got this.” Still, he doesn’t budge. I don’t have time to deal with this guy.

I take long strides across the lawn and slide the key into the door, letting out a breath when it opens.

I jog up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, trying to ignore that Lars is following behind. The layout of the house is identical to mine, so I go straight to the room that I know is hers from years of catching Charlotte sneaking out. She’s lying in her bed, balled up under the covers. The asshole and I sit down on either side of her.

“Lily?” he says, and she opens one eye and groans. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s sick or because he’s there. When I press my hand against her forehead, it’s warm. “Lily.” She turns her head slightly and when she sees it’s me, her expression changes. I’m not sure if it’s better or worse, but it’s different than the look she gave the other guy. “Alright, she’s alive. Just a little warm. I’ve got this. She needs her rest, you can go.”

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