Craving My Father's Bestfriend

~ Nyssa's Pov ~

“Nyssa! Nyssa! Nyssa! Nyssa!” The crowd cheered as I poured bourbon all over my face, spilling it onto my exposed chest.

“One more shot! One more shot!” they screamed. I loved crowds like this. If you ever want to have fun, go to a college party because they know how to vibe. I staggered toward where the cups of liquor stood alongside packs of cans, where taut college boys sniffed. One by one, I chugged down the liquor from each of the six cups, with them cheering me on.

“O-kay… that’s enough,” Vanessa said, pulling me out of the crowd while draping a cloth over my bare chest.

“You’ve had too much to drink. Here,” she handed me a bottle of water. What a killjoy… Vanessa.

“You know…p-parties are meant to be enjoyed. You do the opposite of that, my friend,” I said, my slurred words barely audible. Vanessa stood straighter and looked at me with her ‘just behave’ eyes. I swear, she sometimes scares me with those eyes.

“Parties are meant to be enjoyed doesn’t mean you should strip for every boy at UCF.”

I laughed as I brought the water to my lips. “What? It was fun, okay?”

She nodded as I drank. Once I finished, I handed her the half-empty bottle.

“We need to go. It’s already past your curfew, and your dad wouldn’t like it.”

“You mean he wouldn’t give a shift,” I joked.

“Still… it’s already late.”

“I know it is. You don’t have to tell me that. But going back to meet Daddy Dearest is not on my radar tonight,” I said, standing up on my barely strong feet. “I came here to have fun and not think about what the old man wants.”

“He is still your father and the Alpha of our pack. If he knew I stayed out this late with you, he would have my head.” I looked at her like she had suddenly grown two heads—she must be to spew this nonsense.

My father would do anything other than worry about my well-being. In fact, he doesn’t see me as a daughter, only his other child, Ruby.

“Look,” she said, holding my hand. “I know you’re avoiding meeting your father, but he is still your father, and one way or another, you’ll need to go back home. For a change of clothes, anyway. I love you, but I can’t bear sharing my clothes with you.”

If only she knew why I haven’t gone back to my father’s house. It was already enough with the names they called me—disgrace, cursed daughter, but Daddy dearest decided to add fuel to the fire by informing me about my stepsister’s upcoming engagement. I had to be there as a “supportive” sister. Supportive? Fuck them.

“I'll drive you home,” Vanessa said, holding me while I stuttered my way to the entrance of the room. As we climbed down the patio stairs, I staggered and fell on my face, cursing under my breath while Vanessa pulled me back up. Finally, we got to her Toyota Camry, and like a brick of wood, she pushed me into the passenger seat and buckled my seat belt before she got in.

“So…we’re good. How tipsy are you?”

I smiled sheepishly at the stars I was seeing above my head. They suddenly changed to dancing ducks. Stars or ducks?

“Dancing ducks,” I answered.

“Oh my god! You are drunk drunk.”

“Relax. I can hear you perfectly,” I said, my words slurring.

“How many fingers do I have up?” Vanessa asked, holding out three fingers in front of my face.