Page 5 of DILF

“Mornin’,” I say, adjusting my eyes to the sun that is now on my face. “Charlie’s asleep, we were—”

“She texted, I know,” he says, dark glasses covering his eyes. Maybe it’s the short sentences or the arms crossed over his chest or the lack of a good morning smile. Whatever the reason, Mr. Edwards looks pissed off again.

“Okay?” I sing-song.

He puts his palm out. “Need the keys to your car.”

“Why?”

“Got the tire. Need to put it on.”

“You got me a tire?” I say, relaxing against the door, but he doesn’t say anything and I notice a twitch in his jaw and his nostrils flaring.

“Keys, Lily,” he barks out.

I’d like it to be known that I’m not an ungrateful snot. I think that his driving thirty minutes to my rescue and then buying me a tire is something I should be very thankful for. And I am. But I didn’t ask him to do it. He volunteered. And now he’s acting like a jackass again, and I don’t know why. For a brief moment yesterday, the air shifted between us, but shifted to what? Anger? Because, hell, he looks mad.

I think through my memories that include the old Mr. Edwards, and, though I don’t recall having that many one-on-one conversations with him, when we did talk, he wasn’t a dick. He was serious and had a tendency to curse more than my parents appreciated but was always courteous. Now he’s just curt.

I step out of my house, forcing him to move back as I close the door behind me and ask, just as tersely, “What the hell is your problem?

His eyes roam my body causing goosebumps to dance across my skin. “Don’t curse, little girl,” he begins. “Get your ass inside, change, and then come back and give me sass if that’s what you intend on doin’.” It’s the most he’s said to me. “But don’t do it with your nipples in my face.”

My mouth is hanging open. This is inappropriate, right? Him saying the word “nipple” when it’s in relation to me? I look down and damn it—I’m not dressed appropriately. I’m in a cami with no bra and boxer shorts, rolled up on top. I cross my arms over my breasts.

“You’re just Charlotte’s dad. And it’s not like you haven’t seen boobs before, no big deal.” But it is a big deal because I can’t seem to get past the thought of him say ‘nipple’, noticing said ‘nipples’ and the way my pussy immediately got hot and wet when he said those words. “Tell me what your problem is. Is it me? Are you mad at me? Or are you just normally this way?”

He takes a step toward me, but I hold my own and don’t retreat. “I may be Charlotte’s dad, but I’m also a man. Get dressed, little girl.”

“I’m eighteen, Linc,” I spit out. “I’m not a little girl.”

He takes a step back and runs his fingers through his hair. “Can you just go bring me your goddamn keys? And don’t call me that. It’s Mr. Edwards.”

“Not until you tell me what I did to piss you off.”

We’re at a standoff when the door opens behind me. I practically jump at the noise. “Good morning, Lincoln, how are you?” I turn, and my mother is standing there with a mug of coffee, which she hands to Mr. Edwards. “Thank you for helping Lily out yesterday with the car. Would you like to come in?”

“No, thank you, Marie. I was just asking Lily here for the keys to her car so that I can replace the tire.”

“And I was just telling Mr. Edwards, being as he was already kind enough to change my tire yesterday, that Daddy would help me with the new one today. I don’t want to put Mr. Edwards out again. Don’t you agree, Mom?” I send him an acid smile and wonder if my mother can see the intense tick in his jaw. I don’t understand where this back and forth anger is coming from, but now I’m angry too. This is no longer Mr. Edwards and Little Lily arguing. This is Lincoln and Lilian, two adults, about to go at it. And the reason? I have no clue.

The problem is that I’m unsure as to whether I want to choke him or strip him naked and ride his cock right here, right on the steps outside my childhood home.

“Linc, dear, don’t you worry. Bob’ll get to it. Lily’s right, you’ve done enough. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of things to do. And Lily, go put on a robe for goodness’ sake.”

He looks between me and my mom and takes a sip of his coffee.

“You want to stay for breakfast?” my mother adds.

He takes another sip and hands my mother back her mug. “Nah, but thanks for the coffee.”

“Come on, honey,” my mother says to me and turns and walks inside. I linger a little too long by the door. My eyes focus on Mr. Edwards, who is still standing there shooting daggers at me. I shake my head and follow, closing the door behind me, still confused as to what the hell is going on with him and I.

Later that night, I have a quiet dinner with my parents at our favorite restaurant in town. It’s the last time we’ll probably ever eat here as a family, since there’s not really a reason for them to come back. I spent the rest of the morning actually packing with Charlie’s help. Then she left midday, and I finished on my own. The only things left are the boxes I’m taking back with me to school. Charlotte and Randy are going out to the Rusty Nail tonight, a local bar that didn’t really card, and she convinced me to go. Truth be told, it didn’t take much convincing, I really need a night of fun. When my parents pull up to the house, I notice Mr. Edwards walking back to his. It looks like he’d been crouching by my car, but I couldn’t tell.

“Dad, is my new tire on?”

“Sure is, pumpkin,” he says, getting out of the car. I glance towards Mr. Edwards house as I walk inside my own, wondering what he’s up to.

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