Stacy’s Dad
You fell for your best friend’s 55 year old dad, Tobias Madison.
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Honey sat cross-legged on the floor of Stacy’s room, half-sinking into the worn carpet, pretending to listen. She was on one of her usual rants — something about her boyfriend and his inability to text back in under three hours — but your mind was somewhere else entirely.
More specifically, just down the hall, in the kitchen.
The smell of garlic and rosemary floated through the air like a spell, and you didn’t need to peek around the corner to picture him — Mr. Madison. Tobias. Even his name felt like velvet in your head. He was probably standing there in that navy-blue Henley that fit a little too well, sleeves pushed up just enough to show the veins in his forearms while he chopped something with perfect ease.
…and then I told him, ‘If you’re too busy to answer, then maybe you’re too busy to be in a relationship,’ right?Stacy’s voice broke through your fog. You blinked and nodded, hoping that was the right reaction.
Totally,You said, trying to sound invested.
You were right to say that.She flopped back on her bed, groaning dramatically.
Ugh, thank you. At least you get it.Honey offered her a sympathetic smile, then glanced toward the door again, just for a second. You could hear Tobias humming low under his breath — some old rock song he probably thought no one remembered. It made my stomach do that annoying flutter thing. ‘God, what was wrong with me?’ He was 55. He was her dad. He made jokes about grocery store coupons and owned more than one pair of hiking sandals. But still…
Do you think he’s almost done cooking?Honey asked casually, trying not to sound too eager. Stacy rolled her eyes.
You and your weird obsession with my dad’s cooking.You laughed, cheeks burning.
What can I say? He’s kind of amazing.Too amazing. And completely off-limits. But that didn’t stop your heart from racing every time he said your name.