IN TOO DEEP

"Please, please, please," Kate is begging as we walk in the school parking lot, trying to find where her car is parked. "It would be great if you could sleep over tonight! We can totally do a movie marathon!" I laugh at Kate's enthusiasm as we both cross the road, still looking around for where her car is, our sneakers crunching against wet gravel. "Besides, I want to finally show you my house!"

"Okay, okay," I sigh in surrender, laughing again. "I'll call my Mom as soon as we find your car and ask her if I can stay-over for the night, Kate. Just chill out and relax."

At my words, Kate squeals happily, jumping up and down, reminding me of a hyper child. I roll my eyes at her, shaking my head. Kate and I have been best friends ever since school started years ago. Now that we're seniors, we're trying to embrace our sort-of newfound freedom. Luckily for Kate, she just got her lisence, while I'm still working on getting mine. Her father even brought her a new car as a celebratory gift.

"Oh, here we are," she murmurs happily, finding her keys out of her bag. I stop still, staring at her car as she skips to the drivers side with a beaming grin. I'd seen her car a couple of times, and despite that, I still cannot contain my envy. Her car is spotlessly clean, one of the newest models of Audi R8's- or so she'd told me over a million times. A canary yellow paint job, with tinted windows; an expensive gift from her father.

I know my parents could never afford to get me a brand spanking new car like Kate's once I obtain my license. Maybe that's what makes me all the more jealous?

She unlocks the door with the little remote on her key-chain, and we both hop in, my senses assaulted by the new leather smell still. I haven't been to Kate's house before. I haven''t slept over before, but from what I've heard from Kate, she seems pretty well off. Her father is apparently a well-to-do businessman, recently divorced from her Mom who took barely a week to find a new guy to be with.

Kate's shown me pictures that her Mom has posted on social media of her and her new boyfriend doing selfies while holidaying, but I haven't seen what her father looks like yet. Kate's told me quite a few times that their divorce was messy.

"Whatever you do, don't mention my Mom to my dad, okay?" she says as she pulls out of the lot. "It's something I try to avoid doing myself. He doesn't like hearing about her at all."

"Well, that must be hard, not being able to talk about her?" I ask sympathetically. I can't even imagine it.

"Kind of. But like, I totally can understand in some ways. Dad was really heart broken- even although he tries not to let it show. But I can just tell, you know?"

The longer I spend in the car with her, the more anxious I feel to meet her dad. I hope he likes and accepts me, seeing as Kate and I have been friends ever since we basically started freshman year together. What if he demands we stop being friends?

In order to distract myself, I check my phone, decided to text my Mom to tell her I'm sleeping over at Kate's house tonight. My Mom can be strict at times, but not overly so. She writes back within two minutes, warning me to be good. Like I never am.

When I look up again, Kate is swerving into a long driveway. She shoves her foot down, speeding us up real fast towards a garage. I almost fly out of my seat. I try not to act amazed when I see how huge her house is. It becomes more clearer to me that she's really well-to-do and privileged. The house is huge, mansion-like, almost like a movie set, with a pristine manicured garden with hedges and lovely flowers. The house seems to be three-story, weatherboard white.

It puts my modest house at home with my Mom to shame.

"Yeah, so... this is kind of my house," Kate says lamely, parking near a car that looks just as fancy as hers and expensive. There's also a motorbike parked near it. "That's my dad's car and bike, but he always says it's off limits. He forbids me getting my bike license." At that, Kate rolls her eyes, shoving the car gears into park. "He thinks riding a bike is too dangerous for me."

As we get out of the car and Kate leads the way past a few hedges to the front door, the front of the house looks all the more exquisite up close. Inside, it looks just as gorgeous too. Decorated artfully with rich pastels and earth colors and abstract art. Every corner of her house screams elegance and taste, yet it still has a homely comfortable feel about it.

There's a weird commotion in the kitchen- a clatter of dishes and glasses- and then a man's voice calls out, "Kate, is that you home?"

"Yeah, dad," she calls loudly beside me. "It's me! I've got a friend over tonight since it's the weekend. Is that okay?"

I almost gasp out loud at the man that appears from out of the hallway to meet us. Is this Kate's dad? Surely not, because he's younger than I was expecting. Younger and attractive, wearing a tight fitting white polo shirt and jeans, a golf club in his hand. The shirt is short-sleeved, showing off muscular arms, his body tall and lean. He has tousled reddish brown hair, his eyes the most piercing, sharpest gray I have ever seen.

"What's this about having a friend stay over the night?" he asks, and he finally turns his gaze to me. Terrible as it is to think it, I find him to be the definition of hot for an older man, which makes it bad because he's Kate's father obviously. But he's gorgeous.

"Dad, this is Ana, my best friend from school. Ana, this is my dad Christian."

"Ana," he repeats, something like familiarity lighting up his gray eyes. "So this is the infamous Ana that Kate keeps telling me about. It's great to finally meet you, sweetie." He says this all in an appealing, sexy voice while holding my gaze. There's something instantly hypnotic about his gaze.

"Um, y-yes," I stutter, holding my hand out awkwardly. "I'm that Ana. It's nice to meet you, Mr Grey."

"Please, call me Christian." He shakes my hand, his grip firm, confident. Releasing my hand, he looks at Kate, smiling at her. He looks so young when he smiles- it is so hard to believe he is actually Kate's father and that he's over thirty. "I had the day off early, so I thought I'd fit in some golfing with Taylor. If you girl's need anything at all, just shout out to me. You know where to find me."

"Yeah, okay, dad," Kate mutters, sounding embarrassed for some reason. "Actually, I was hoping of having a movie night with Ana. Is it cool if we watch movies in the theater room?"

Theater room?

"Of course, whatever you want. Just ask Sawyer for help if you have trouble with setting up the projector."

"Cool." Kate glances my way, giving me a weird look. "Come on. Let me show you around."

I give Mr Grey- Christian- a tentative smile before following her, my heart pounding.

Holy shit. Why didn't Kate tell me her dad was so young and good-looking?

"You feeling okay?" she asks me as I follow her.

"Um, yeah, I... Um..." I try to think of something interesting to say, but I've never been too quick with this sort of thing. "I just wasn't expecting your dad to be like that."

"What?" she laughs. "A total golf freak?"

"No, not that. But..." I bite my lip, wondering how to put it. Is it rude if I outright say that I find him hot? Good-looking? "Young," I settle on. "I never expected him to look that young?"

"Well, he's thirty-eight this year. That isn't that young." Kate shrugs, warning me to watch my step as we start climbing the stairs. "At least he didn't embarrass me too much, though. My dad is super embarrassing." Somehow, I can't imagine that he is.

"What does your dad do for a living exactly?" I ask curiously, because she hasn't even told me. "He must have a really good well paying job?"

"He does. He owns his own company, which is really successful. Apparently China is interested in investing in his company too. It's a worldwide thing."

"Wow," I gush.

I startle when, on the last step, a guy appears, standing by a doorway, dressed in a fine grey suit.

"Afternoon, Kate," he says.

"Hey Sawyer. What's up?" Kate turns to look at me. "That's Sawyer, one of dad's security personnel. He's always hanging around."

"So he's like your bodyguard?" I ask, smiling nervously at the guy before passing him.

"Sort of. Dad's anal about security." She stops into the center of the room, which I'm assuming is her bedroom. It's huge, covered in posters and cute decorative pieces on the walls. "This is my room."

"Wow, it's so cool. And spacious."

"You think so?" she says, pleased by my reaction. "Well, just wait until you see the theater room. That's even cooler!"

A couple of weeks flew by, where I'd spend every weekend staying over at Kate's house. It started to feel like a second home, almost.

And the more and more I stay-over, the more I start to speak with Kate's dad. Christian is a great guy. Although I hardly see him around if I come over after school with Kate because he's working late, I always tend to see him on the weekends because that's his days off, Saturday's and Sunday's. Whenever he is home on the weekend's, he is always laid back, casual, funny, teasing Kate and embarrassing her on purpose. And the more I see him interact with Kate, the more I begin to think he's more of a friend to her, than a father to a 17 year old.

And the worst thing of all, the more I spend staying-over or visiting Kate's house, the more my crush on him grows...

I hadn't expected it, to grow a crush on an older man, especially not my best friend's father. But having spent two weeks in a row sleeping-over, having dinner with them, talking to him, it happens, suddenly and without warning.

I know it's ridiculous. What could he ever see in someone like me, his daughter's friend? Somebody her age?

I'm probably just seeming like another daughter to him. That's probably it.

I hadn't anticipated myself being in this awkward situation at all.

"Shit, Ana," Kate whines helplessly at the stove while watching the salmon heat up. "It's burning!"

"Kate, relax," I laugh at her from my place in her large kitchen, pouring boiling water over some noodles to cook them. "They aren't burning. They're just starting to cook!"

"Remind me again how it is that you can cook really advanced stuff like fish without somehow spoiling it?"

"It's like I told you. My Mom's always been a terrible cook, so I sort of had to learn to teach myself." I laugh again as Kate probes the pieces of salmon in the pan like they're insects with the end of a knife.

It's my forth weekend at staying at the Grey's house. My Mom doesn't mind me staying here so much. As for Mr Grey, I'm not too sure how he feels on it. We hear the door slam at the same time, exchanging looks. Christian's home.

"What is that smell?" he calls, in playful horror, I think. "Kate, are you trying to cook again?"

"Ha ha. Hold on a sec." Kate disappears, leaving me to tend to the fish while she greets her dad. I hear them talking in the hallway.

"What? Anastasia's here again? She's already stayed here three weekends in a row already."

"I know, dad, but her Mom is totally cool with it. Please, she's the only friend I have."

"Fine, so long as her mother truly doesn't mind..."

"Thank you! You're the best dad in the world!"

Their conversation trails off as Kate runs back into the kitchen, beaming happily. Then I see him. I watch him surreptitiously out of the corner of my eyes as Mr Grey comes into the room while struggling out of his business suit jacket. He stops still when he notices us in the kitchen.

"What's all this?" he asks, coming closer while folding his jacket neatly. He peers into the bowl of steaming hot noodles separating, inspecting my work.

"Ana's really good at cooking, dad," Kate informs him happily. "Right now, she's teaching me how to cook us noodles and salmon."

"Really?" Christian eyes me with interest as I grab a fresh fork, pulling strands of saturated noodles apart. His gaze makes me feel red in the face. "How is it that you know how to cook so well at your age?"

"I guess I had to teach myself," I explain with a shrug. "My Mom's a lousy cook so she depends on me cooking for her most of the time. I love cooking anyway. I find it relaxing."

"Do you hear that, Kate?" he murmurs, sounding impressed. "Perhaps you can get some tips from Anastasia?"

"Ha ha," Kate laughs, poking her tongue out at him. "It's not my fault I can't cook."

"Can't cook is an understatement. You can't even toast bread without burning it."

I can't help grinning as I watch Kate punch him on the arm playfully. They truly are more like friends than anything else.

"Anastasia, I would gladly pay you a thousand dollars a lesson if you could teach this girl how to cook without managing to almost burn the house down."

"Shut up, dad!"

Okay, so maybe tonight I have an ulterior motive. I'm maybe trying to impress Mr Grey with my cooking, showing that I'm not completely helpless like his daughter is, which is why I decided to go the route of doing salmon with noodles and vegetables. On a subconscious level, I admit maybe I'm trying to show him I can be a grown-up, with terrific culinary skills. Besides, having stayed over the past few weekends and observing him, I've noticed he could do with a decent home-cooked meal.

There's a loneliness there about him, a reservedness that seems almost sad. I want to treat him, because observing him, I notice he doesn't have any friends around. He'll come home at work at this time, then order take-out and buy it with us.

He frequently plays golf with Taylor, but Taylor isn't a friend- Kate told me he's part of his security. He doesn't seem to have friends that he doesn't operate on a business level with. He also hasn't been with a woman, something I've admitted paid extra attention to. He seems only to be a strict workaholic.

"I got to go to the bathroom," Kate says, dashing out of the room, urgently, leaving us two alone. An awkward silence fills between us as Mr Grey strides past me towards the fridge to get out a bottle of wine. He always seems to drink wine alone a lot too.

"How was work?" I force myself to say as he reaches behind me to grab a clear crystal wine glass from in the cupboard.

"Just fine, Anastasia. The usual." I watch out of the corner of my eye as he uncorks the bottle and pours himself a generous amount of red wine. He sniffs it, the fragrance, then takes a small sip. "You really didn't have to bother with this," he adds, and I feel myself stiffen against the stove as his voice comes close from behind me. "I would have been happy ordering us all a pizza or sushi again like last weekend."

"I know, Mr Grey, but... I'm happy to do it," I assure him quietly. "I thought it's the least I could do to show my gratitude for your kindness in letting me stay here most weekends. I hope it doesn't bother you that I'm always here?"

"Not at all. If anything, I'm pleased you seem to be such a loyal friend to Kate." I turn to smile at him, but all previous thoughts and happiness over his comment instantly fly out the window as I notice him stripping out of his work tie. He folds it, shoving it down into his trouser pocket. Then he uses both fingers on each hand to start undoing several buttons on the collar of his white dress shirt. "Kate really needs all the friends she can get right now," he adds, though I can't say I'm truly listening.

I. Am. Dead.

As he finishes plucking the forth button down, I see his shirt is undone enough that I catch a glimpse of his chest and throat muscles, the smatterings of hair there. As he starts rolling up his sleeves over his forearms, he must realize I am pathetically staring at him, practically drooling all over his pristine floor, because he arches his eyebrows at me. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Um... y-yes, Mr Grey." Shaking my head, I turn, facing the bowl of steaming noodles quickly. Stupid! Why am I so stupid? "Dinner's almost done so if you want, you can... umm, get some plates?"

I hear Christian chuckle and he must be closer behind me than I first realize, because his breathes tickle my ear and the side of my face.

"Smells delicious, sweetheart," he mutters. "You truly are an impressive cook for your age." He reaches over me, between me with his arms, and I feel like I am hyperventilating as I watch his forearms, the light veins there, how long and masculine his fingers are as he grabs the salt and pepper shakers near me that I used to season the salmon. I feel his chest brush against my back, the fabric of his shirt.

I truly am pathetic, swooning over him.

Kate appears from her bathroom run and it shakes me out of it brutally.

She tells Mr Grey to sit at the table and wait for his dinner to be served, and he does, waiting patiently while Kate helps me put everything together. She pours the noodles into each plate while I focus on slicing the salmon into equal portions. As I glance up, I notice Mr Grey staring at me, his eyes bright, a bland yet polite smile on his face as he waits for us to be ready with dinner.

Of course he doesn't feel it too whenever he is near me, that palpable sexual tension. It's all in my head.

Finally done with the meals, Kate brings his plate over, beaming happily. "Ta-da!" she announces, and we both laugh, watching his reaction as he picks up his cutlery to take a bite of the salmon.

He moans out loud at the taste of the salmon, a beautiful spine-tingling noise that obviously affects only me and not Kate. "This is absolutely scrumptious," he murmurs while chewing. "I am truly impressed. This is seasoned and cooked perfectly."

"Well done," Kate says, bouncing her shoulder off mine cheerfully.

"Thanks Kate, but you helped, too."

"Yeah, right. I basically only helped dish out."

I feel my cheeks get hotter as I sink down into a chair with my own plate. "Glad you seem to like it that much, Mr Grey."

"Please, Anastasia, stop that with all of this Mr Grey nonsense. It's starting to make me feel like an old man and I'm not even 40 yet. Please, it's just Christian."

What? Not even 40 yet? "You're not even 40 yet? How old are you?" I know it's impolite to ask, but I sort of forget my manners, laughing.

"I'm thirty eight. Why; how old do I look to you?" He runs a hand through his hair slowly, as if self-conscious and nervous for my answer.

"Well, I always thought you had to be somewhere around 40 if you have a 17 year old daughter. Although admittedly, I also just thought you were one of those lucky guys who looks younger than they are? How old were you when you had Kate?" I cannot contain my curiosity, glancing between them.

Kate answers for him, "Dad got Mom knocked up during high school, didn't you, Dad? She was seventeen, our age, wasn't she?"

"Yes, that's right." I watch his face carefully as he reaches out for his glass of wine. He takes a sip, not meeting either Kate's or my eyes. I wonder if he's uncomfortable speaking of his ex-wife still. "There was this beautiful girl, who happened to be Kate's mother. We started dating when school started and, against better judgement, we couldn't keep our hands off each other." He clears his throat loudly while meeting my gaze. "One thing led to another, and Kate happened."

"Yeah, and I ruined your life," Kate mutters.

"No." Mr Grey looks at her, his voice and expression truthful. "Don't say that you ever ruined my life. Yes, it happened so abruptly, but you were the best part of it. I suppose, one of the main good things that came out of it, is that due to the minimal age difference, we're so close. You were the best thing that ever happened to me."

I have to glance down at my food, feeling a lump in my throat after his speech. It's so sweet, what he's telling Kate. The love he has for her- it's so palpable right now.

"That's really beautiful," I whisper, the only thing I can seem to formulate into words.

"Yeah, beautiful and gross," Kate mutters, making a face of disgust. But I know she's only playing. She laughs when Mr Grey reaches over to grab her by the hand, shaking it, and that seems to knock her out of her denial. She meets his eyes with a smile, her eyes watery. I have to glance back down at my plate again, suddenly feeling as though I'm invading a precious father-daughter moment.

Once we've all finished dinner, I stand from the table, grabbing everyone's plates. Mr Grey follows me in, helping clear the table while Kate plays with her phone.

"You've done great and you should be really proud of yourself," I mutter to him when I know we're alone, out of ear shot from Kate. His shoulder brushes against mine as I put the plates in the sink, and he puts in the cutlery. "Kate's a really great girl. She's the greatest best friend I could ever ask for, a truly wonderful human being." I don't know why I say what I do next. I guess it just comes out, "And, as for your ex wife, she missed out, Christian. She lost a great man when she divorced you and any woman would be lucky to have you."

He gets a funny look on his face as he glances down at the plates in the sink. Have I overstepped a line? Probably.

"Thank you, that's sweet of you to say, Anastasia," he mutters, shaking his head. "But I don't necessarily believe that to be true."

"Well, it is," I insist, a bit too strongly. I hear my own soft voice wavering with passion.

"Anastasia, you're young. You don't know what your saying."

"But I do know what I'm saying," I murmur honestly, trying to meet his eyes over the sink. Only he won't let me. "Any woman would be lucky to have you as their husband, and I'm not just saying that. You're incredible."

He closes his eyes for a moment, something like a short sigh escaping him. Then he reopens his eyes to glance over at me, his gray eyes bright with what seems hesitance, doubt.

"You're handsome. Funny. Charming." I can't even stop myself from gushing. "Not to mention, you're a great father to Kate and a very successful person in life." I reach up, touching his shoulder with the flat of my palm, standing closer, "And you're not even 40 yet, like you said? You've accomplished so much at your age!" Every thing I say, he shakes his head vigorously, like he refuses to believe, his mouth in a flat line. How can he not believe me? "Your ex, she really loses out."

And it's then I realize I've fallen way too deep. I'm in too deep.

Later that night, I'm under the duvet, sharing Kate's large bed. I can't seem to sleep, I'm just awake, staring up at the dark ceiling in her room while Kate lays beside me, her socks rubbing against my ankles.

Mr Grey comes into my mind as I sigh loudly, wishing to find sleep. Honestly, he always seems to. I always seem to think about him, especially when I'm trying to switch off and sleep. I always seem to replay our conversations that we do have, over analyzing them. It's just a habit I can't seem to break.

And then, when I do think of him hard enough, of his face, his arms... I start to feel all tingly inside, like there's something fluttering in my chest.

"Ana, you still awake?" Kate grumbles beside me; her voice throaty with sleep.

"Yep, I am."

"Why? What are you thinking about?"

I can't tell her the truth obviously. I sit up, blinking at her in the dark. "You think your dad will ever remarry or meet someone?"

"I don't know. Probably not. Why?"

"He just..." I hesitate, biting my lip."He seems sort of... lonely? I feel sorry for him sometimes."

"Well, don't." The bed rustles as she turns. "I'm sure he's fine. He's just trying to get over my Mom." She yawns loudly, then I start to hear her breathing deeply. She obviously can sleep easier than I can.

His face comes into my mind clearly in the darkness as I reach below the sheets, cupping my stomach, wishing those fluttering feelings to go away. Why do I have to like him, of all people? He'll never see me the way I want him to.

And, even if he did, it would probably be wrong.

WHAT DID YOU THINK? I LIKE WRITING STORIES THAT ARE SORT OF FORBIDDEN, BUT NOT SURE IF ANYONE WILL LIKE? LET ME KNOW, I HOPE IT ISN'T TOO MUCH, CHRISTIAN BEING KATE'S DAD :)