Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Is she there with you?"

Well, not right now but he's not going to make Amilyn even more worried. "Yeah. She's safe with me." He clears his throat. Thank God they're on the phone because he knows she can see through him when he's lying.

He hears Amilyn sigh. "I'm sorry that she keeps coming to you. I don't know how to talk to her."

"It's fine," he says, pinching his temples. "I mean, it's fine that she's always here. Not about you two arguing. What happened anyway?"

"Oh, you know. She's seeing this boy in school and I don't like him, Ben. He's trouble."

He feels his left eye twitch as he tightens the grip he has on his phone. "She's seeing a boy?” Just saying it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “Who?"

"Victor? No, wait. It's Vicrul. That boy is the whole package of every parent’s nightmare. He rides a motorcycle without a helmet, he smokes, he skips class. For all we know, drugs are involved too. How could there not be when his parents named him that?

Every single sentence that comes out of his ex-wife’s mouth just gets worse and worse as his paranoia gnaws at him. He briefly puts her on speaker as he checks again whether Rey has called or texted him back, his big thumbs struggling to open each app.

Still nothing.

His stomach drops.

It’s hard not to worry when she went out of the house scantily clad.

"You’re as strict as me too. I don't know why she prefers you over me."

He turns off the speaker mode and lifts his phone back to his ear. "As someone who has issues with his own mother too, I think it's because you're more sensitive around your mother compared to some dope that used to marry your mom."

Amilyn snorts. "Makes sense. Being a mother sucks. Remind me to call my own mother to apologize for everything I did when I was Rey's age."

"Only if you want to open the Pandora box,” he jokes while his mind is still swirling with the thought of Rey.

The sound of Amilyn's laughter ripples his phone.

"Okay, tell me more about this Vicrul guy. Where does he live?"

"So you can whoop some kid's ass?”

“Maybe just have a little talk. I can be nice.” Sometimes.

"Ben."

He rolls his eyes. "How are you anyway?" he asks before his sanity is stripped away, leaning himself against the wall between the staircase and elevator while constantly casting his gaze towards the door. He probably looks creepy right now, standing in front of the door in a dimmed light. "How's, um, Dameron?"

"We don't have to talk about this."

"What? I’m simply making conversation."

"I bet you have a smug grin on your face because Rey prefers staying at your place."

He can barely fight his smile from breaking. "Oh come on, it wasn't that easy for me too when we started dating. The effort paid off and I'm sure Rey will warm up to Poe." Although Ben doesn’t remember trying that hard the way Poe is right now.

"At least you managed to crack her after only a couple of months. Poe and I are married now yet he’s still walking on eggshells around her."

Pride surges his chest when he hears that. "That's the perk of being the president of a fashion company."

"You think Poe never tried? He bought her a Tiffany necklace and she sold it on eBay, keeping the money to herself."

Ben palms his mouth to stop himself from snorting. "What?"

"That brat sold a goddamn Tiffany necklace, Ben. For half the price. Just half the price, as if that thing was cheap in the first place."

"Jesus Christ." He grimaces, shaking his head. Sure, he feels sorry for the poor bastard but wow, he really doesn't want to be that guy.

But seriously? A Tiffany? Cheap ass man can’t afford a goddamn Harry Winston? Doesn’t he know Rey has a very fine taste? Giving her a Tiffany? That sounds like an insult. Now Cartier? That’s more like it.

Part of him is smirking right now because at least Rey is wearing one of the dresses with his label right now. She definitely prefers him over Amilyn's new boy toy.

“Did he try giving her a Kelly? She has been begging for me to buy her the goddamn Kelly bag. The pink one, specifically.”

“Like hell would I let her have a Kelly at her age,” Amilyn says in horror. “You know how old I was when I bought my first Hermés? Thirty two. With my own paycheque, by the way. Granted, it was a Constance because I couldn’t afford a goddamn Birkin but still. That kid is way too spoiled, especially after you and I got married.”

He scoffs. “Are you implying that I encouraged her behavior?”

“I’m just saying that you should learn to say no to her, Ben. This is why she prefers you over me.”

Amilyn may not even say it but he can detect that hidden “someone who’s not even her real father” in her last sentence there.

Everyday he’s haunted by that thought. The fact that he adores that kid so much like his own kid, someone he would protect with all his heart, yet she’s not even close to being his.

He hears a thump from outside the door and the jiggling sound of keys. It sounds like someone is struggling to put the key through the hole. He's definitely not going to help opening the door as he stands expectantly at the foyer so he's the first thing she sees when she walks in, preparing to give that brat a piece of mind. People have said that he can be intimidating because of his height and formidable face so hopefully he'll be able to frighten her a little.

Although who is he kidding? Teenage girls aren’t scared of anything.

"Alright, I gotta go," he says to Amilyn. "Gonna make that brat a supper."

"Give her a shitty supper so she loves me more than you, will you?"

"I'll try,” he replies before he hangs up and stuffs his phone inside his pocket.

After sounding like she was struggling a lot to open the door, she finally gets the hang of it as the door opens to reveal his hammered step-daughter. She looks like a hot mess with her mousy hair and smudged lipstick that gives him a strange reaction when he sees it.

Rey stumbles into the house, not noticing him at first even though he's literally standing in front of her. As she tiptoes forward and closes the door behind her, she jumps as soon as her hazel eyes meet his angry eyes. The room immediately reeks of alcohol mixed with an overbearing floral perfume as if it can dilute the alcohol smell.

"B-Ben," she stammers, clutching her chest. 

Rey immediately recovers from surprise as she masters her infamous annoyed look. She smooths down her silver sequin bodycon dress that is way too short and tight for his liking. The dress was designed by one of the designers from his company. Rose Tico. He would fire Rose if she weren't such a talented designer. She's Rey's favorite designer too and they're weirdly close even though Rose is his employee. Rey really knows how to waltz in anyone's life and become their best friend. It’s part of her charm.

"Were you waiting for me or something?" she asks in her thick Estuary accent. It’s nice that her accent sticks even after living here in New York for half of her life. Endearing. "Would be nicer if you sat in the living room like a normal person instead of standing there like a creep."

"Do you know what time is it now, young lady?" he demands, seething. He stands by the elevator so won't be able to go in there, unless she doesn't mind standing in the confined space with him.

She snorts, casually walking past him towards the staircase with hauteur like she couldn't care less. "Young lady? Seriously?" she slurs as she balances herself while making her way to the stairs. 

He can’t imagine how difficult it is to walk in those platform Versace high heels while in an inebriated state. He doesn't know how she's going to go up the stairs when her bedroom is on the fifth floor. The lengths she would go to avoid him. 

"Come with me to the kitchen so we can talk."

There’s no quiver in her voice when she replies, "No.”

"Rey Holdo," he growls instinctively before he draws in his breath to calm himself down. "Come back here. Since you're an adult now, it's time to talk like adults, shall we?"

"I'm tired," she whines, still climbing up the stairs.

He heaves a sigh and follows her up the stairs.

She grumbles in frustration. "You know what, I'm gonna use the lift," she says as she struggles to climb up the stairs.

"Fine by me," he says with a shrug. "Let's go."

"Ben," she drones, resting her head on the stair railing. "Give me a break."

"I just need to talk about your bad behavior," he says, walking up the stairs with no effort unlike her.

"Bad behavior," she mocks. "Such bollocks."

He grabs her by the elbow, to which she immediately protests. "Alright, we're on the second floor now. Come on."

"What the hell, man?" she hisses. "What are you doing?"

"Like I said, I need to talk to you," he says, leading her to the spacious high-ceiling living room since it's the closest to them where she can sit other than the kitchen downstairs.

"For your information, I feel very violated.”

He ushers her to sit on the couch.

She puckers her lips petulantly, refusing to look at him. Her white mini Lady Dior purse is in her lap, to which she moves it on the couch next to her.

He thrusts his hands in his pockets as he paces back and forth in front of her. "Do you know what time is it now? Huh?"

"It's my bedtime so good night—"

"You always have a phone in your hand," he interjects, pausing as he stares at her. "Why didn't you answer my call? I was worried sick for you. I called and texted you a bunch of times but you never picked up or replied to my texts."

"Sorry, the music was loud," she says gruffly, checking her nails. "Can I be dismissed now?"

He can feel the veins on his neck popping. "No. I'm not done talking to you. Did I say I'm done?"

She clenches her jaws. "No, sir." Then she mutters under her breath, "Arse."

"I heard that."

"Congratulations, your hearing hasn't been affected by your age yet," she says sweetly.

He tightens and loosens his fists a couple of times before he decides to tug on his own hair because goddamn, he needs to hold on to something. "Rey, I gave you a phone not for you to scroll your Twitter feed or whatever the fuck you use but for you to answer my goddamn calls wherever you are. Do you want me to take away your phone?"

She flashes a smile at him, showing her dimples. "Only if you’ll buy me a new iPhone."

Rage courses through  his veins but he takes a deep breath, summoning peace. Maybe Amilyn was right. He’s too soft on her. "Things have to change here, sweetheart. Just because your mother and I are no longer together doesn't mean you no longer have rules here. I'm not gonna be some fun guy you come running to every time you and Mommy dearest are having a fight. You still have curfews here."

"Who said you were fun?" she clips. She unzips her purse and takes out a pack of gum. Her eyes dart up at him as she pulls one piece of gum and shoves it in her mouth. She starts chewing it loudly, smirking at him.

Sure, he's irritated but he's not going to respond to that behavior. He's not going to let her bait him. 

"Rey," he says sternly, watching as she adds another piece of gum in her mouth. "Hey, be grateful I still let you stay in my house even though you're acting like a total brat." He doesn’t mean the way it sounded when those words came out.

A bitter laugh escapes her mouth as she flips her hair dramatically, showing off her gold bangles around her wrist and stacks of gold rings on her slim fingers. The gum she's chewing is twinkling on her teeth at the back when she laughs.

She licks her lips, probably tasting the sugar from her gum. "It's not like you're going to let me sleep on the street," she retorts, stuffing the pack of gum back in her purse and zipping it.

He squints at her. "Obviously not with your Lady Dior purse and your Organa dress. You wouldn't survive."

"Hey! I used to live in a boarding school!" she counters defensively.

He cocks one brow up. "A private, high-society boarding school in Switzerland. Your mother told me you only lasted there for three months before you begged her to let you come home.”

She turns her head so her hair could curtain her cheeks, hiding her face from him. "Whatever. Three months was a long time and I survived."

She said it like she survived the war.

With a sigh, he sits on the coffee table in front of her, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Sweetheart," he begins, hearing Rey's sharp draw of breath. "Listen here. I love having you here. You know that. But level with me here, please? If I call, you answer. If I ask you to come home, you come home. Please."

She scrunches her nose, blowing a bubble out of her gum before she pops it. Even with that cold attitude, he can still see what's in her heart from the way her eyes moisten somberly. 

Her eyes turn glassy. He only gets to see it in a blink before she looks down at her lap.

"You were really worried?" she asks quietly.

"If you didn't know how much I care about you, you wouldn't feel welcome when you’re here, would you? You wouldn't feel safe being here?"

She intertwines her fingers together. "Maybe I just like that this place is actually in the heart of the city instead of fucking Brooklyn."

"Brooklyn is not that bad," he says with mirth.

Her eyes meet his, the sadness is gone now. "It's a dump."

"Sweetheart, it's not the sixties anymore. I know it's not a dump anymore."

She lets out a humph. "Alright, fine. It's not a dump. But this is Manhattan. This is where the party is, Ben.”

He gives her a look. "Oh? Is that why you like coming here? Easier to go to parties?"

Her eyes are full of mischief as she feigns a sweet smile, batting her eyelashes. "And because I love spending time with you." And there goes the ass kisser. She rises and carefully sits on his lap, wriggling a bit. He tries to not let the whiff of her floral perfume affect him.

He’d like to think he’s immune to her charms as he stays rigid in his place, gritting his teeth.

"You know, you're my favorite,” she says airily. “It makes me so sad that you and Mom were only together for a short period of time."

He narrows his eyes. "One, your breath reeks of alcohol so you're not making a better case here. You know you’re not in the UK, right? The legal age here is twenty one.  You’re not even of age in the UK yet.”

“I will be in like a month,” she grumbles under her breath. She groans in frustration as she gets up from his lap and sits back on the couch, leaving him an absence feeling.

"And two, you must be mistaking me for the rest of your long list of stepdads. They might be an idiot but I'm not."

"Unfortunately.”

"You are grounded for a week," he says, already up on his feet. "That's your punishment. I'm taking away your phone and your MacBook too. The only thing you can have is my old MP3 player."

"Ben," she exclaims in protest. "You can’t do that!"

"It’s my house so I can and I will. Either you're grounded or I take you back to your mom. You choose."

She adjusts herself and lays her whole body on the couch with a whine of despair. ”Ugh, piss off.”

He reminds himself that this is just her tactic to piss him off so he can lose his cool and she has something to complain to her mother about him. "Language. You’re grounded for another week.”

Her jaw drops as she straightens herself up. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

His face morphs into a triumphant smile. “Go to your room."

She shoots him a death glare as she stands up.

He lifts one hand up to stop her when he remembers something. "Hold on, hold on, hold on."

"What,” she snaps.

"Your mother mentioned someone named Vicrul."

She groans, throwing her head back. "I am not talking to you about this."

"Hey, get back here. What's his address? What's his number? Who are his parents? Wait, just tell me his last name and I'll figure out the rest."

She scowls and walks away from him, dashing towards the staircase. "I'm going to bed now."

He stands up and clasps his hips. "Don’t you walk away from me, young lady!"

It’s like he’s speaking to the wall at this point.

But it’s fine. She's grounded anyway, which gives them plenty of time to talk.

"Do you have aspirin or ibuprofen or anything?" he asks, raising his voice so she can hear him. "Make sure to take one pill before you go to sleep."

She stops her track and checks her purse, facing him with a frown. "Shit, I don't have it in here. And I don't have it in my bedroom, I think."

"Go take a shower and change into pajamas. I'll bring a painkiller and your vitamins for you."

"Fine,” she says curtly.

As she makes her way upstairs, he heads to the medicine cabinet in the butler's pantry (thank God for two working kitchens). There's all types of supplements, vitamins and painkillers there. He grabs a couple of things she might need and fills a glass of water, bringing all the things upstairs to her floor.

He knocks on her bedroom door at the end of the hall, making sure she's decent. When there's no answer, he calls her out next. "Rey? Are you in there? I got the pills here."

There's still no answer. Maybe she's in the bathroom?

He slowly turns the knob and opens the door, announcing himself again. "Rey? I'm coming in and I'm going to put the pills and your glass of water on the nightstand, okay?"

Still nothing, but he can hear the sound of shower running in the bathroom. He places the things on her nightstand and considers whether he should write a note telling her what these pills are. But the shape and color of the vitamin C pill is pretty distinct so he leaves them be.

As he ambles toward the door to exit the room, he stops when he takes in the whole room. Clothes and shoes are scattered everywhere on the floor. The bed is unmade. Her makeup is cluttering on the vanity. He can feel a pinch in his head just looking at the mess of the room.

"Ben?"

He's about to give her an earful about the room but his anger dies down to see that Rey is only wearing a towel as she just got out of the shower. He's startled for a second before he immediately averts his gaze.

"Shit, sorry," he says hurriedly. "I knocked on your door and called your name a couple of times just now, I swear. I was just placing the aspirin and vitamin on your nightstand. I don’t want you to forget your vitamin C. And your glass of water. Um. Yeah.”

Shit, is he rambling?

"Oh," is all she says. "I really didn't hear you, sorry."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too for barging in." He grimaces and rubs the back of his neck, needing to get out of here fast. "Okay, I'm gonna leave now. But oh God, please clean up the mess here. I don’t know how you can function in a room like this."

He doesn't know when the hell did she cross the room because suddenly she appears next to him. He tries not to look at her out of respect. Just because they're somewhat related even for a second (even though he and her mother are no longer together) doesn't mean they're comfortable seeing each other in a towel. There will always be a line.

The fruity apple or peach scent wafts off of her tickles his nose, sending straight to his brain. He almost feels suffocated by their proximity and her scent, his mouth watering. When he looks down, he sees water trickle from her hair onto the carpeted floor. He frowns at her red nail polish on her toes.

She places her hand on his bicep, taking him by surprise as she whispers, "I'll tidy up the room tomorrow. Thanks for looking out for me."

She really doesn't have to whisper so softly and be this close to him to thank him.

His mouth feels cotton dry. "No problem, Rey." He reaches for the doorknob but pauses, still not looking at her. "Hey, do you want something to eat? I can make a sandwich if you're starving. Did you even eat?"

She sounds like she's smiling but he doesn't dare to look at her. "Are you flustered?" she asks teasingly. "You're not even looking at me, old man."

Shit, it's bad enough that she hates him. She can't think of him as her creepy, pervert stepfather or else he has to stay goodbye to being her favorite stepdad that she always comes running back to.

He clears his throat, still not meeting her eyes. Still, he turns his head towards her out of politeness and casts his gaze to her face. "I just don't want to make you feel uncomfortable," he argues. "Stop being ridiculous. Do you want a sandwich or not?"

"I would never say no to a sandwich," she replies, a smirk toying on her lips. "You know you’ve seen me wearing skimpier than this. You don't have to be embarrassed. I can see your ears are turning pink. It’s kind of adorable.”

Yeah, adorable is not exactly the word he prefers her to use here.

He flexes his jaw, cursing his stupid ears that still peek out no matter how much he tries to hide them with his hair. There are so many things he wants to say right now, so many things he wants to scold her for but he knows that conversation can wait until tomorrow. "I’ll let you know when your supper is done. Keep an eye on the door.” He doesn't give her the chance to respond as he scrambles out of her bedroom.

When he's out of the room, he heaves a long breath and feels his scorching face. His heart is racing and his hands are clammy with sweat, his self-control slowly crumbling.

Chapter Text

"Did you call your mother yet?"

It's immediate when she drops her utensils and leans back in her seat with a sigh. "Can't a girl enjoy a nice dinner that her stepdad made without any mention of her mother?"

At least she enjoys her meal. She better not tell that to Amilyn though. "Come on, sweetheart. Your mom is worried about you and she wants you to come home." Part of him dreads that. He's always all alone in this house so it's nice to have some company when she’s around.

Even when she's being an irritating brat.

"You know this wouldn’t be a problem if you just don't answer her calls?" she says condescendingly, looking like she's losing her appetite as she looks at the food with a sigh.

"I am not ignoring her while her daughter is still here," he counters, shaking his head disapprovingly. "She'll get the cops involved thinking I've kidnapped you."

Rey picks up her fork again and twirls it around a strand of spaghetti, shoving it in her mouth. "You may as well have," she mumbles, still with a mouthful of food.

"Swallow first before you speak," he chides. "It's not polite to speak with your mouth full."

Her eyes are unyielding as they lock gaze, doing what she's told and licking her lips after that. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I'll remember to always, always swallow like a good girl."

Fucking Christ. He flares his nostrils at her innuendo. "Wipe your mouth with a napkin. You still got some sauce on the corner of your mouth."

"Get it for me?"

He slams his palm to the mahogany table until the plates rattle but the loud sound of the slap barely perturbs her. "Alright, that's enough," he barks out, his patience wearing thin.

That little smirk is still hanging on the corner of her lips. "Come on, I was just teasing. It's so easy to make you flustered."

Instead of using the napkin like he had asked her to, she uses her thumb and flicks it on the corner of her mouth, sucking on it. She does the same for the side of her mouth, her gaze never wavering as she looks at him. He would have been disgusted if he weren't so transfixed by the sight itself.

"It's not appropriate," he says, seething. "I'm your stepfather."

"Ex-stepfather," she points out.

He grounds his teeth. "It doesn't matter. I divorced your mother, not you, so in my book we are still a goddamn family."

She snorts. "You were married to my mother for like a year. That marriage barely even counts!"

Maybe if he gives her a spanking or two on that ass of hers— "Regardless, I am older. Much, much older while you're just a kid. I expect a little more respect and decency from you."

Her eyes twinkle in amusement, like everything about this is a joke. "You can't be serious, right?"

Every time she's here, he always needs a goddamn Xanax. "Just finish your meal and I'll handle you later."

She protrudes her lips and reaches for her glass of water. "Yes, Daddy."

He heaves a sigh and looks up at his ceiling with resignation, hoping a drop of patience enters his soul.

“I’m sorry,” she says in a placating tone. “I was just teasing.”

It’s hard to stay mad at her. “Teasing is fine, sweetheart. But you have to know your limits.”

She gives him that puppy-eyed look. “Okay, I’ll try to behave next time.”

He grabs his drink and gulps it down in one fell swoop.

After a brief silence, Rey asks almost nervously, "Have you ever thought of remarrying? Or having your own children?"

"Obviously I have," he says with a sigh. "But I just don't have the time, kid. To find someone. And if I find them, they require all my time that I just couldn't be able to provide. That's why your mother and I were good together. Her schedule is as busy as mine so she didn't have that much expectation. And you were already fifteen that time so you didn't require that much supervision."

She smiles. "I beg to differ. You still had time to see me at all my dance recitals. And during basketball seasons so you could see me cheer."

His eyes soften. "I hope you're still not holding a grudge against your mother for that. She really wanted to be there for all but—"

"I know, I know. She had to save someone's life."

"Yes."

She looks down at her food. "I'm kind of glad you haven't met anyone yet as much as I would love to see you happy."

"Why?"

"Because if you do, you would have no reason to have me in your home—in your life anymore. You'd have a wife and your own kids to pay attention to and I'd just be... a nobody to you." She smiles somberly. "We'll just become nothing to each other."

"Hey, hey..." He reaches for her hand. "You will never be nothing to me. Okay? Never. I promise."

Her eyes glisten before she blinks, glancing away from him. She doesn't seem convinced but she nods and offers him a brave smile.

When he realizes his hand is still lingering on hers, he pulls away before this crosses some sort of unspoken line. "You know, as much as I'm not a fan of Dameron, what you did to him is not very nice, sweetheart."

She looks up at him innocently. "What did I do?"

He narrows his eyes at her. "The Tiffany, Rey."

She turns her head but he can see the dimple on her cheek.

"You sold it on eBay?"

"It's not the first time," she mumbles.

"What?"

She tips her head back and blows out a breath. "Look, at least I didn't toss it away! I gained money from it and someone who likes it better than me gets it. It's a win-win!"

"Not to poor Dameron, no it's not." He shakes his head. "You don't even need the money anyway. Why don't you just give it away?"

"Thought it's a good start if I ever want to be a business mogul one day. Like you. I want to be independent too."

"By selling stuff that people give to you."

"Without profit," she argues. "I always sell them for half the price."

"That would be the case if you were the one who paid for those stuff."

She scrunches her nose at him. "Okay, fine, Mr. Technicality."

He laughs.

"Sometimes I do give it away. To my friends. Or to Goodwill. But if they're gifts, I sell them out of guilt and buy what I want with the money so technically they're still, you know, gifts. I don't know how to explain it."

He can't help but smile. Her mind is really something else. "Have you sold or given away anything that I gave to you?" he asks.

She leans back on her chair and looks down at her lap. "No," she says quietly. "And I can prove it. I still have it all."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, you know me better than anyone. You always know what I like so..."

He can't help the gratified smile that appears on his face. "Do I, now?"

She gives him a pointed look. "Yes, now shut up or else I'll sell your stupid MP3 player."

"Hey, I've kept it in good condition for over twenty years!" He would trade his family business for that goddamn MP3 player. He wishes he were kidding.

"Exactly, can you imagine how much I can sell for that?"

Maybe the kid is more business-minded than he gave her credit for.

His office is conveniently only a fifteen minute walk from his townhouse in East Village. He doesn't need to face the bustle of the crowd in the subway that always feels so confined to him.

He walks past his employees and the mannequins they use to design the dresses when he's in the building. The whole room becomes quiet and the only sound that fills the room is the sound of the machineries.

Zorri, his assistant, is taking a call at her desk when he arrives. She tells the other person on the line if they can hold, pressing on the mute button as she starts speaking to him. "Mr. Solo, your stepdaughter—uh, ex-stepdaughter?—is waiting for you in your office," she informs him. "I tried to stop her from coming in and told her you were busy but she's really relentless, sir."

That catches Ben off guard. But then he remembers her prom and graduation day are nearing, which means she probably wants to check if her dresses are done. Those dresses are actually specially curated just for her, designed by him specifically. He really made sure the dresses capture her essence. Youthful, fun and elegant.

"It's okay, just let her in next time unless I have company in my office," he tells her, heading towards his office. "She's always welcome. Take note on that."

When he enters the room, he sees Rey is checking out the mood board near his window for her graduation dress that he has in mind while her prom dress is almost done. Rey's graduation robe is navy colour so he figures a white dress with daffodils to symbolize new beginning as she embarks her journey to college. Plus, daffodils are perfect for spring. He has been working on the sketch of the dress of his vision. It's less flashy than her prom dress that he has worked on.

"Didn't I ground you? You're supposed to be at home."

"It's your office so it doesn't count in my book," she says with a shrug. Rey Holdo, always having something to say. "Just a few blocks away from our house."

He thrusts his hands in his pockets, ignoring how much he enjoys the sound of "our house" from her mouth. "Fair point."

She still hasn't turned around to face him. "This is a nice moodboard."

"It's still in the process," he says, leaning against the doorframe. "Yours, actually. Isn't that the reason why you're here?  To see if your dresses are done?"

Finally she turns her head, smiling coyly. "Do I need a reason to see my beloved stepfather?" She takes a seat on the couch and crosses her legs, accentuating the length of her legs. "Sorry. Ex-stepfather. I know I'm grounded but I figure there's nothing wrong when I'm only here to see you, right? Do you really expect me to be cooped up in that big house alone for so long? I'd go crazy." 

Rey Holdo, always with her theatrics.

He squints at her, stepping forward and shutting the door behind him. "Always looking for a loophole, huh? Fine. Get up and come with me."

She cocks her brows, covering her mouth as if he's being scandalous. "Ooh, boss man," she gasps, doing what she's told when she stands up. "Tell me what to do again, Daddy."

This girl really loves to test him. He presses his lips into a thin line and opens the door. "It's time for your fitting," he says, trying his best to sound as placid as possible as he exits the office without waiting for her.

Rey catches up to him, making comments to his employees. "Nice job, Mitaka! Keep it up! Love that slip satin dress! Finn, I need that exquisite blazer right now. Chef's kiss. Deserves to be displayed in the Louvre. No one does blazers better than you. Chanel couldn’t stand a chance, sorry to say.”

Finn cackles in his station but immediately composes himself when Ben glares at him. Everyone always loosens up every time Rey is here. Everyone adores her.

"Oh my God, Rose, I might want to wear that to my prom," Rey raves, bubbly as she is. She doesn't have to be drunk because her personality itself is a drunk personality. In a charming way. "Your impeccable hands, I can never."

"Don't be a smartass, Rey," Ben chides, escorting her faster to the staircase by a grabbing a hold of her elbow. "That dress is not for you. Your dress is upstairs." What he designed is so much better than what any of his employees could make.

No offence to his employees though, of course. But what he designed for Rey all comes from his heart and soul. One of a kind and won't ever be on the runway as it is specially made just for her.

"Okay, bye, guys!" Rey says, blowing a kiss. "I'll see you guys later."

They head upstairs to where his atelier is. He mostly enjoys making his pieces on his own for a peace of mind. Employees are not allowed here unless they have permission. No one has the key to this place, not even his own assistant.

He takes out his key and unlocks the door, opening it for Rey. "Ladies first."

She beams, stepping inside. Her heels echo the walls as they touch the wooden floor. "Thank you."

He tails her, closing the door behind him. He tries to keep his atelier clean since he's a perfectionist and maintaining a tidy space is very important for him to focus on making his art. There are six different stations for  wehim alone where each has different roles. The station to sew buttons is not to be mixed with the station where he sews an embroidery. There's a floor-to-ceiling shelf where he keeps his fabrics, buttons, sequins, etcetera etcetera. Near the shelf is where the ironing machines are.

"So this is where all the magic happens, huh?" Rey says, running her fingertips over the wooden sewing table.

He lets out a wry laugh. "More like a mental asylum."

Rey hums behind him. "If there's a Venn diagram about geniuses and lunatics, they would be in the same big circle."

He snorts. "Ha-ha." He turns his head to look at her. "Are you ready to see your dress now?"

She smiles coyly. "What else am I here for? An excuse to spend an alone time with you?"

He gnaws his teeth. "Right."

As he brushes past her and approaches the mannequin that's covered by a garment since it's only for Rey and Rey alone, his heart starts to pound against his chest apprehensively. He slowly lowers the garment until her dress is revealed.

He hears Rey's audible intake of breath.

"Oh my God," she says breathily. "Ben."

He stuffs his hands in his pocket, standing next to the dress while looking at her nervously. "Do you... Um, what do you think?"

She strides towards the dress with sparkling eyes and inspects it closely. "This green..." She swallows. "It's... It's like the color of my eyes. With the gold hue. Am I crazy?"

He shakes his head. "I—I was inspired by your eyes."

She looks up at him and he can't help but feel like the dress doesn't do her eyes justice.

"Oh," escapes his mouth when her arms fly around him and his nose is tickled by her hair.

He's caught off guard at first before he slowly winds his arms around her small waist. It terrifies him as he's engulfed by her scent that this feels exactly like those last seconds before he falls asleep. Those last few seconds of being in a state of consciousness. That feeling as he yields his soul to that short idyll and floats in the air, right before he meanders into a dream.

"So you love it?"

"Now you just sound like you're fishing for compliments," she says, still hugging him. "You're so annoying but, ugh, you've made the perfect dress beyond even my wildest dream so I'll forgive you for that. Yes, you ninny! I freaking love it."

He breathes through his mouth when her apple scented shampoo gets his cock throbbing but it's on his tongue now and fuck, he needs to release her. "Don't you want to try it on first?" he asks, reluctantly pulling away. "To see if it fits? It'll be more perfect if it fits you like a glove. It's your dress—just yours."

She nods eagerly, beaming up at him. "Yes, I would—Oh god, I need to put it on right now." She turns back to the dress and sighs. "I'm afraid that once I put it on, I never want to take it off."

"Prom is soon, it's better if I do the adjustments now if you just try it on, sweetheart. Bathroom's at the end of the hall if you need to—"

"Please," she says dismissively, smirking. "You've dressed models before. I'm sure you have no problem if I undress right now."

"Oh but—"

"It's really not a big deal."

He clears his throat. "Right, um. I can turn around?"

She gives him a pointed look. "No, you have to help me put it on."

He clasps his mouth shut and takes a deep breath through his nose. "Alright."

She smiles with satisfaction as she unbuttons her paperbag shorts that her camisole is tucked in. And when she takes off her top, she does it by pulling the straps down her shoulders and shucking the top on the floor.

Christ.

Rey steps over her clothes and picks them up, standing in only her nude strapless bra and matching underwear, revealing her golden skin. "Should I take off the bra?"

"Not necessarily," he answers hurriedly, his jaw hurting from gritting his teeth tightly. He tries not let his gaze linger on her body as he gets to work.

This is his ex-wife's daughter. That has become his mantra these days.

She flashes her pearly white teeth before she walks to his dressing mirror.

With a disgruntled sigh, Ben meticulously disintegrates each part of the dress since it's a work in progress. He grabs the green silk dress first as the inner part. "Put this on," he says, lowering himself down so Rey can put her leg in the skirt. He tries not to look up because, well, her chest is right there. "You can choose to wear something else under the actual dress. It doesn't have to be this one."

She claps her hands as soon as he's done zipping the skirt. "This is so exciting. I feel like a runway model or something."

The corner of his mouth tugs slightly while he grabs the outer part—the dress itself. "There's tape under the mesh. I can sew a sort of padding on the dress if you want unless you're wearing something to cover up, um, the necessaries if your prom has a strict guideline."

She hums and steps inside the dress, letting him putting it on. "I know at least five girls that will wear something skimpier than this. Plus, I barely have tits so technically I'm not showing anyone anything when I wear a plunging neckline."

He wants to protest and tells her that her body is perfect as it is and he has never seen anyone so fucking sexy.

But that's definitely creepy to say when it comes from him.

Christ, the word sexy shouldn't even cross his mind when it comes to her. Of course she's undeniably a beautiful girl and anyone who sees her can see that. Beautiful is one thing.

But sexy?

Nothing is innocent about that adjective.

He smooths the spaghetti straps on her shoulders and then zips the back of the dress, his hands trembling.

The dress is still not complete but Rey still takes the time to study her dress in the mirror. She tilts her head to the side as she keeps examining it, running her fingers along the plunging V-neckline.

"So a padding," she says, trailing her hands down her body before she casually cups her breasts. "Maybe I do need the padding? Something to push these babies up so there's a little décolletage? I mean, as much décolletage as I'm able."

Right. Her chest that he has to face now to add a couple more embellishments.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he mutters, shaking his head.

He delicately takes a handful of Swarovski crystals and gulps as he lowers himself to glue the crystals on some part of her chest as a finishing look. It's hard to concentrate when the freckles on her chest is right in front of him. He's careful not to cover too much of the freckles though. These embellishments are supposed to complement her freckles.

"There," he murmurs, straightening himself up and standing behind her to look at how she looks in the mirror. "What do you think, sweetheart?"

She stares at herself, her gaze flitting from her head to toe as she strokes the skirt of the dress. "I'm gonna be honest."

He breathes deeply as he prepares for what she's about to say.

"I don't think I've ever worn anything as gorgeous as this and I've worn a lot of designers," she marvels. "I feel like a princess in it."

He chuckles, refraining himself from telling her that she is a princess to him.

"But what if you lower the neckline and make the slit of the dress higher?"

His expression immediately shifts as he scowls at her. "Don't push it. This is already revealing enough as it is. You're lucky I even made it just the way you wanted because if it were up to me..." He shakes his head.

"Why?" Her voice comes out breathy. "Because you're so possessive over me, Daddy? You're going to get jealous?"

"No," he grits out, growing more frustrated with himself than her. "Because it's a goddamn high school, Rey." And he wouldn't be able to be there to keep a watch on her.

She smiles coyly. "You can undress me now."

He reminds himself that this is a professional setting. He does this for a living. Making a dress is an art. The models are simply a muse. That's all there is to it.

So why are his hands trembling as he slowly removes every piece of item on her?

He only takes out the embellishments and removes the outer dress off of her body, leaving her in only the slip dress. "You can take it from here on your own."

She pouts at him. "But I need help with the zipper."

He narrows his eyes at her. "You're a smart girl, aren't you? You can do that by yourself, can’t you, Princess?”

Her pink cheeks saturate into a deeper shade of red.

Huh. Look at that. He made the devil in disguise blush. Sometimes he forgets that's a possible thing to do.

As she changes back into her own clothes, he gathers the materials of the dress gently and grabs his notebook on the desk to write down notes on what alterations he's going to do on the dress.

Rey appears next to him to hand him the slip dress, already fully clothed again. "Here."

"Thanks," he says, closing the notebook shut and taking the dress to hang it on the mannequin.

"Have you always wanted to be a designer or are you just following your mother's footsteps? You know, taking the baton from her and carrying the legacy?"

He smiles, turning around and leaning against his desk. He grips the edge of the desk and lets out a deep sigh. "Originally the plan was just to make me the CEO of the company. All I had to do was handling the business operations. I went to business school in Harvard and all that. My parents never really knew I actually had the passion for fashion."

"They didn't?" Rey asks.

"No, which is weird because I was always an artsy kid," he says with a shrug. "But then again, I was very passive as a kid. So quiet and at times, very furtive. I had a sketchbook but I never really showed them the contents. But they could see me sketching, they just didn't know what I was sketching."

Rey hums.

"It probably started when my mother kept bringing me to her office. While she attended her meetings, I would hang around the workstation and watch how the dresses were made. I started taking notice in the intricacies. Every time my mother dressed up, I took notice of the rhinestones on the dress, the mechanics. My grandmother was a woman of fashion too. I remember seeing some of her dresses in my mother's closet and was just in awe of how difficult it must be to make those dresses."

"I've seen some pictures," Rey says, her arm brushing against his. "It's great that you actually like fashion and not just the glamour. Probably what makes the company so successful. Usually the heirs to a company have the tendency to ruin the company itself and bring it down to the ground because they don't have enough passion for it. They just do it out of obligation. Even years of being taught in the business, in the end, if you don't have the drive..."

He crosses his arms and nods. "That's right."

"Since you don't have an heir, have you ever thought of who you'll pass the baton to?" she asks.

"Why? You want it?" he says playfully. "You can. I can teach you the basics on how to run a company. You already have a business mind with your eBay stuff."

She lets out a snort and nudges his arm. "I don't know what I want to do yet. Who I want to be. And I know I should figure out now that I have applied to some colleges but—"

He wraps his arm around her and let her head tuck underneath his chin. "Hey, there's no pressure, okay? Frankly it's bullshit we're expected to figure out what to do with our lives at seventeen or eighteen. I didn't know what I wanted to do until I was at least twenty three. But whatever you choose, I just want you to know that I believe you could be anything you want, anything you put your mind into."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm." He lets his nose nestle in her hair, revelling in her fruity scent. "If you want to follow your mom's footsteps and be a doctor, fucking go for it. If you want to run my company, I'll gladly hand it over to you." That makes her laugh. "You could be a lawyer with all that power of persuasion that you have."

Oh God, she would actually be perfect as a lawyer with that mind of hers. No one could stand a chance. She'll be ruthless in court.

"You're just too easy to be persuaded," she teases, her arms circling their way around his torso.

"Please, I'm not the only sucker." Knowing her, she definitely has wrapped everyone she knows around her tiny little fingers. "I know you've persuaded your teachers to change your grade many times too."

"I will not provide a comment."

He chuckles. "Whatever you choose to do, I'll support you no matter what."

"Can I be a high class prostitute?"

That is not a funny joke. He finds zero humor in that. Zilch.

"Get out of my office," he deadpans.

"Did you not hear the "high class" part? That means the clients would be royalties and presidents! You know, the powerful people!"

"I do not want to hear another word from you. You can find your way home now."

She giggles, tightening her hold around his body.

Chapter Text

He's a picture of concentration as he props his elbow on his armchair and strokes his chin, his brows furrowing while his employees present their ideas for next year's Fall/Winter line. It's currently Finn's turn to express his ideas, visually demonstrating his point with a video.

"I think—"

Ben frowns.

"I believe," Finn corrects himself, earning a nod from him. "…That fashion trends have been rapidly changing nowadays because of social media apps like TikTok and it's harder to catch up. Only a couple of months ago, Y2K fashion was making a comeback and now it seems like they're trying to bring back mid-2010s fashion even though it wasn't too long ago. By the time we release the new line, there will already be a new trend."

He hums, trying his best to listen. But hearing things like TikTok makes him think about teenagers and thinking about teenagers leads his thoughts to Rey.

He wonders if she's open to doing her summer internship here. Before college begins. It would be nice to have someone with her mind to help out.

Right, Ben. Doing a summer internship is exactly what people want to do after graduating, after finally saying goodbye to high school.

"It might sound impossible for us to catch up with the latest trends but after gathering datas and watching countless TikTok videos..."

Finn's voice starts to fade as Ben's head goes astray.

And it's right at the moment that his phone suddenly flickers on the desk. He keeps it on silent every time he's in a meeting to avoid disruption while still having it next to him in case of an emergency.

Rey's selfie that she took when he left his phone unattended appears on the screen. She's doing the peace sign and pressing her hand against her cheek as she pouts playfully, her eyes are smiling. Since he has no idea how to save photos on the contact numbers, it's obvious she's the one who saved her picture on her number in his phone.

"Excuse me, I have to take this," he announces before he grabs the phone and takes the call outside. 

As soon as he's outside, he immediately demands some updates while curbing his anxiousness. "Hey, what's going on, sweetheart? Are you alright?"

Upon hearing what she says, he can't get out of the building fast enough.

There's a redhead kid—a male student—that's sitting outside of the principal's office, holding an ice covered napkin on his nose. Ben ignores the kid as he enters the office after the receptionist told him he could come in.

Instead of hanging her head low and slumping her shoulders like how a guilty person should look like, he finds Rey looking bored as always as she looks out the window and taps her fingers on the arm of the chair she's sitting on with her legs crossed, obviously wishing she's anyway but in the principal's office. The chair she's sitting on is perched against the wall, leaving the chairs in front of the principal's desk empty; probably for the parents or guardian to sit on.

She lifts her gaze to him when he bursts into the room, the fear and relief juxtaposing in her eyes.

He offers his hand to the principal. “I’m Ben. Ben Solo. Rey called me here.”

"Larma D'Acy," the principal says. "You're the stepfather?"

He's about to answer when the door swings open behind him. He turns around to face Poe Dameron, the man that replaced him.

Dameron's eyes widen as soon as their eyes meet. "What are you doing here?"

"Sorry, who are you?" Principal D'Acy asks.

"Y-You called my wife," Dameron stammers. "I’m Poe Dameron. My wife—Rey’s mother—she’s performing a surgery right now so she asked me to represent her."

The principal directs her eyes to Ben. "So you're not the stepfather then?"

"I called him," Rey says irritatedly. "He and my mother used to be married."

"So he's not your stepfather anymore," D'Acy states, as if she's trying to make sense of it all.

"He is still my stepdad, he did marry my mom," she argues. "They're just not together anymore but that doesn't make him any less of a stepdad to me. He's the closest thing I have to a father so I want him here."

Ben dares to steal a glance at Dameron, seeing pain in his eyes before he masks it quickly by blinking and averting his gaze.

"You know what? It doesn't matter." D'Acy presses her lips into a thin line. "We're here to talk about Rey's behaviour today."

He crosses his arms and stays where he is while Dameron takes a seat in front of D'Acy.

"Our school policy doesn't condone violence and harassment. Your stepdaughter here—" The principal looks between Ben and Poe. "She was caught charging towards another student, Mr. Armitage Hux, and throwing a punch across his face."

"What?" Dameron blurts out. "That can't be true."

It's amazing just how little this guy knows about his wife's daughter. Ben isn't the littlest bit surprised hearing about it.

Rey opens her mouth as she talks back. "You don't condone harassment? He harassed me for weeks."

Ben snaps his head toward her direction and frowns. "He did what?" he quickly demands. "What did that boy do to you? You tell me exactly what he did so I can—"

"Mr. Solo," D'Acy interjects.

He squeezes his mouth shut, feeling his jaw tense.

"Would you say it was a self-defence?" D'Acy asks, turning toward Rey.

"If wanting him to leave me alone means self-defence then sure!"

"I think you've already heard enough," Ben chimes in. "She's simply standing up for herself. That kid probably deserves it."

"Mr. Solo," D'Acy says sharply. "This kind of behaviour is unacceptable. Who's to say if she's telling the truth?"

"You're accusing my daughter of lying?" Ben grits out, seething. His hand is balled up into a fist as he digs his nails into his palm.

"Ex-stepdaughter," Poe mutters under his breath.

Ben tightens his jaw, his hand flexing from the urge to punch this guy's face.

"I am not accusing her of anything," D'Acy says, her voice remaining composed. "I'm simply trying to get to the bottom of this to decide whether your stepdaughter needs to be suspended or not."

"Suspend the little squirrel that harassed her," Ben says, approaching the principal until he looms over the desk. D’Acy is not the slightest bit affected though. "If Rey is saying that kid harassed her, then that kid harassed her. You said so yourself, you do not condone harassment."

"I also do not condone violence. It's never the answer."

"Oh please."

"Look," Dameron says calmly. "I'm sure we can settle all this nicely. Maybe we can talk to this Hux kid's parents. Do they know?"

"We tried calling them but they didn't answer," D'Acy says.

Ben scoffs. "That's just perfect. You can't ask the kid either because you know he'll play victim."

"Rules are rules," D'Acy says. "We never saw Armitage harass her but we did witness her act of violence toward him. She needs to apologize to Armitage."

A snort comes out of Rey. "Like hell I would. That jerk deserved it."

"Rey..." Dameron warns her.

"Hey, if she says that little sh—" Ben closes his mouth when D'Acy's eyes grow twice the size. The only thing that stops him from finishing the word is Rey. "If my stepdaughter claims that the kid deserves it, then I believe he deserves it."

"Mr. Solo, I don't take all these things lightly. Her claim is simply an allegation."

Ben's temples start twitching. "What is this? The Good Wives? This isn't some fucking court drama."

"Mr. Solo!"

"Oh, pipe the fuck down. You should be ashamed if you're punishing someone for standing up for herself when this school should encourage that more. You are an educator. You should be protecting the children."

Dameron blows out a breath and shakes his head in his seat.

Ben looks at his watch before he looks at the principal. "I will have you know that I have a list of very powerful people in my contact. All it takes is one call. So if you dare suspending my daughter for being brave—"

"Rey will apologize to this Armitage kid," Dameron cuts in.

Fury begins to boil inside him like a hot lava coming to life as he diverts his gaze to Dameron. He had it handled just fine.

Rey's quick to rise from her seat. "What the hell, man?"

"We don't want any more trouble," Dameron says with resignation.

"Who's 'we'?" Ben asks while doing the air quote gesture, almost shouting as the pitch in his voice turns higher.

"I just want Rey to graduate from here with a clean record," Dameron states calmly. "When this Armitage kid involves his parents, things could get messy. I know it and you know it, Ben. We both want the best thing for her and this is the only choice we have."

"His parents aren't even here," Ben points out.

"Exactly!" Rey exclaims. "I would rather jump out of the window than apologize to that prick."

"You can punch him again on or after graduation day," Dameron says, not even looking at Rey as he slouches in his seat. "But for now, you have to suck it up, be the bigger person and apologize. Graduation is only a few weeks away, Rey. He's not worth it, trust me. He's not worth tarnishing your records. You can’t let the schools you’ve applied to see this. Is it possible if the school doesn’t document this if Rey apologizes, Principal D’Acy?”

The principal nods. “This is Rey’s first offense and she has maintained a high GPA so I am able to offer some leniency.”

As much as Ben hates to admit, Dameron sort of has a point. That's the thing he hates about this guy sometimes. He has a better conscience than him. The thing that he and Rey have in common is they act with their feelings.

But Dameron—he thinks with his head. He's saner than Ben will ever be when it comes to Rey.

Fuck.

“Do we have an agreement, Rey?” D’Acy asks.

Rey groans and grabs her backpack. "I am out of here. Fuck all of this.”

Ben sighs and pinches the space between his brows before he tails behind her. The little shit is still out here with his bloody nose. When he looks at the kid, the squirrel immediately cowers with fear.

Ben fights the urge to grasp him by the collar because he doesn't want to get Rey in more trouble, so all he does is lean down and talk in a low tone. It’s just a little talk.

"You breathe near my Rey again and I will make sure to make your life a living hell," he says, ensuring the kid that he would make good of his promises. "This isn’t a threat. It’s just a little warning, kid."

The lanky squirrel immediately wipes off his tears as he sniffles.

"Something told me that you would be here."

She gives him a side eye before she exhales the smoke from the cigarette, leaning against the wall next to the fire extinguisher while her backpack is on the floor. "Yeah? Who told you?"

He stuffs his hands in his pockets. "No one. I used to hang out on the fire escape too when I was in high school while the cool kids loitered under the bleachers." The fire escape was also the perfect place to get high but he's not going to tell her that.

A wry laugh slips out of her mouth. "And when was that? A century ago?"

In a swift movement, he snatches the tobacco stick from her hand and drops it to the floor, stepping on it with his Louboutin.

"Hey!" she immediately protests, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "That's littering."

"Smoking kills," he chides, scowling at her. He picks up the cigarette and begrudgingly tosses it in a garbage can near them. "Is this what you do at school? Or at the club you go to?"

"Give me a break," she mutters, crossing her arms against her chest. "You smoke too."

Okay, that's fair. He should have been more subtle. Should have set a better example.

"A pretty young thing like you would be so wasted if your lungs are rotten." He doesn't miss the way the loose curl of her tendrils hang around the side of her face. "I'm already old and much closer to the deathbed than you."

She sputters out a scoff. "That's bullshit."

He tips her chin with his finger. "I have no choice but to ground you for another week. Smoking is unacceptable, Princess. Sorry."

Her lips jut out as she glower at him. She's failing to look angry when all he sees is adorableness. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say you love grounding me so we can keep being alone together at your home."

He twists his mouth and bites the inside of his cheek. "You think too highly of yourself."

"You could just be a little more creative and pick a different approach to punish me."

He can't help but feel like he's walking into a trap as he asks, "Oh yeah? You have a suggestion?"

Her eyes twinkle. "Spanking?" she quips.

Yeah, that ought to either teach her a lesson or encourage her bad behavior even more.

He narrows his eyes at her, cursing himself when he already knows better. He changes the subject. "When did you become this way? Does your mother know you smoke?"

She tilts her head back and looks up. "Of course not. You're probably the only one who knows what a mess I am. Somehow the Universe keeps exposing my true self to you, making you catch me doing dumb shit."

That is more preferable to him. Not having a blind eye when it comes to her. "I never thought of you as a mess, sweetheart. A brat, definitely."

Her eyes turn glassy while her lips fight a smile. "Come on, Ben. Cut the BS. I know you're disappointed in me."

His nostrils flare as he feels an ache in his chest. He shifts his balance to one side as he rests his side on the wall next to her. "I could never be disappointed in you. Never, Rey."

She's quick to catch a teardrop that runs down her cheek with her palm and turns her head away from him. "You should be." Her voice breaks. "I know Mom is."

"You should give her a chance." He gulps down the lump in his throat. "She's trying, you know. To understand you better. To connect with you. She cares about you. A lot."

"Yeah, I don't know about that." She scrapes the floor with the bottom of her shoes. "Her time would be wasted if she spends it on me when all we do is argue. At least her patients actually need her. How can I compete with that?"

He scrunches his brows together, his hand itching to touch her. Wrap his arms around her. Leave kisses everywhere he could reach. Hold her tight and never let her go.

He wonders if he's suppressing these feelings because they're at her school...

Or because he knows once he acts on these feelings, they'll flow out like a stream of river. Not even a napkin can stop that. Not even a damn bucket.

"You're her daughter," he tells her gently. "No one's worth the time more than you. Maybe if you tell her what you told me instead of finding excuses to argue with her, you'll find that the two of you have a lot more in common than you think you do."

Her shoulders vibrate as she laughs. "No, that's the thing, Ben! I know she and I have a lot in common. Too much in common. I probably remind her too much of the things she hates about herself. The things she would rather keep hidden so she can look perfect and poised to the world all the time."

That hits him in the gut. The bitter truth.

The thought of his own father crosses his mind. The only difference is it's probably too late for him and his father to resolve the issues they have over the years while Rey and Amilyn's relationship can still be salvageable.

A gust of wind washes over them as a pregnant pause fills them. He wishes she would let him look at her face right now so he can see what's on her mind.

"Thank you for what you did in there," she says quietly, her hair covering her face slightly as she grazes the bottom of her shoes on the concrete floor. "For having my back. Before fucking Poe had to ruin everything."

The corner of his mouth twitches as a smile threatens to break. "What happened anyway?" he prods softly. "Why is this the first time I heard about this Armitage guy? What did he do, sweetheart?"

She leans against the wall and looks up at the ceiling. "He wouldn't leave me alone. I just wanted him to get off my back."

"Why wouldn’t he leave you alone?"

She purses her lips before she answers. "He's obsessed with me or something—I don't know. He repeatedly asked me out even though my answer is no every time. Called me and texted me a bunch of times. I blocked his number but he always found ways to contact me. At times he would casually drive in front of the house and I would see his car out there on the street from the window.”

Ben’s blood starts rising. “What?”

“I have to fucking close the curtain all the time because of him,” she says, crossing her arms. “Thank God he only knows my address in Brooklyn and not here.”

“He better not fucking come here—“

Rey waves her hand, almost in a ‘never mind him’ gesture. “Then he started asking out all of my friends just so he could tell me he did all that just to forget me. I tried warning my friends about him but they would tell me I'm jealous or that I had my chance but I didn't take it. Shit like that. I don't know."

He winces. “What a goddamn psycho.”

“The worst,” she says, clenching her jaw. “He basically isolated me from my friends because everyone thought I was possessive over him or something when I couldn’t give two shits about him. Had my last straw when I found out the way he broke the heart of one of the nicest girls I’ve ever known. At least in school. And he fucking used my name, fucking blamed me for his action. I couldn’t take it so when he went up to me between classes and opened his fucking mouth, I didn’t think. I just threw a punch at him. So to everyone’s eyes, it was… it was unwarranted. And unfortunately one of the teachers was there too so that’s how I ended up in the principal’s office.”

“God, I don’t even know what to say.” He has never wanted to wring some kid’s neck as much as he does right now. "Is your fist okay? You remember what I taught you, right?"

She snorts, finally looking at him. She lifts her left hand, which is her dominant hand, and shows the fresh bruises on her knuckles. "No broken thumb. I did what you told me."

He takes her hand and inspects it, his thumb brushing over the bruises. He should be focusing on the bruises but he can't help noticing just how small her hand is compared to his.

Without realizing what he’s doing, he’s bringing her hand up to his mouth and kissing her bruised knuckles. “We’re putting some ice on these bruises once we get home, okay?”

She smiles meekly.

Before his lips start to linger on her skin, he immediately drops her hand. "Your stepfather means well, you know."

Her brows knit together in confusion.

"Dameron, I meant," he says, grimacing at the bitter taste on his tongue. "You must be aggravated but you know he did what he thinks is best."

She snorts, pulling her hand away from his grip. "He's a fucking coward."

"He's probably just trying to keep it civil. You are graduating soon. You can't have a tarnished record right now. It's not cowardly to act smart."

"But you had it handled," she counters.

"I hate to admit it but maybe he had a point," he says defeatedly, a steel weighing in the pit of his stomach. "Maybe I... overreacted and acted on impulse. I should have thought first before I spoke."

She retreats, the look she's giving him triggers a pinching feeling in his chest. "I thought you had my back. I just told you what happened. You know that asshole deserved to get what he got.”

"Of course I do—"

"I am not apologizing to that fucking jerk, Ben."

"And I'm not going to make you do that but... Look, your future matters here. You heard what Dameron said. You’re lucky the school is letting you off the hook if you would apologize. We don’t know if his parents are powerful—“

“I don’t give a fuck who his parents are!” she says, her booming voice catches him off guard. “I know you’re able to figure out what to do. You’re powerful too!”

“Rey, you’re giving me too much credit—“

She lifts her pointer at him and displays a look of anger toward him. "Don’t. I don’t want to hear about this anymore. I'm going home."

"Which home?"

She gathers her backpack and loops it around her shoulder with a huff.

He sighs, his temples pulsing. "How are you going home, Rey?"

Her backpack hits his arm as she scurries past him, walking down the fire escape. "The bus. The fucking subway. It's the fucking city, Ben. I can find my way back."

The door slams shut, creating a loud echo.

He leans against the wall and shakes his head, his hand reaching into the back of his pocket. With the flick of his thumb, he pops open the box of Marlboro and takes out a stick, placing it between his teeth.

Fucking dammit, Rey Holdo.

Chapter Text

It's almost an unspoken rule in every parent's hypothetical book to not apologize to your kid.

His parents never apologized to him even though he can think of a list of reasons why they owe that to him.

His own friends who have children always tell him they usually wait until their kids calm down before things go back to normal every time they fight. No communication, no apologies. "They always come around," they told him.

Yeah, no shit those kids have to come around. Their parents feed them. Support them. They have no choice. Doesn't make it okay for the parents to act like jackasses.

He braces himself with a glass of whiskey before he straightens his back and walks up the stairs like he's making his way to his execution. There are still some kinks in his neck that he needs to manage but he barely cares about that right now.

What matters right now is making things right with his stepdaughter.

God, teenagers can be so brutal sometimes.

He brings his fist up and gently knocks on the wooden door. "Rey?"

As expected, he's met with silence. Except for the Tony Bennett record she's playing. Since she's grounded, she makes do with whatever equipment she can use to cure her boredom. It tickles his heart to hear that she has to use the record player instead of listening to whatever she always does on some music app on her phone.

And the only records she can use are his. He trusts that she won't leave a single scratch on his precious belongings.

Tony Bennett's Suddenly echoes from her room, making this whole thing feel somehow even more tragic.

"Sweetheart, please open the door," he pleads, his knuckles hitting the door again.

To his relief, the door opens and he's met with the sight of a very angry teenager. Her arms are crossed together against her chest, her head is tilted down as she stares up at him through her lashes, her brows creasing together, and her mouth is pursed into a thin line.

He bends his knees slightly as he lowers himself until their eyes are on the same level. "I was an ass," he begins.

Her anger shifts into annoyance as she snorts. "Are you only here to state the obvious?"

"I'm here to apologize." He flashes his best puppy-eyed look as his lips quirk into a small smile. "You know I'm on your side. I believe you. You know I always believe you, sweetheart."

She loosens the muscles around her jaw as her gaze lazily shifts to somewhere else. "Then why did you say I have to apologize to that asshole?" It's clear she's trying to downplay the pain in her tone by acting nonchalant about all this. Not looking him in the eye probably makes it easier for her too but he knows her well enough by now.

He exhales through his nose. "Because I know how unfair the system could be. You're so close to graduating. I don't want anything to jeopardize your future when you're so close to the finishing line. And I know that's what Poe thinks. You have to give him a little more credit. He cares about you too."

Her eyes meet his again and this time, her expression softens. He can see the way her shoulders slowly relax but the way she licks her teeth might tell him differently.

"I'll handle this," he says, cordial yet sharp with determination. "You don't have to apologize to anyone. I'll take care of it, sweetheart."

She blinks a couple of times and tilts her head. "Really?" she asks, doubt lacing in her voice.

He nods. "Mmhmm."

"And how exactly are you going to do that?"

"Just trust me."

He knows those three words aren't reassuring enough as he's a believer of action speaks louder but he's hoping they're ample for now as he waits with a bated breath for her response. He's too exhausted from being up all night, anxious about her  health. All he wants is to feed her food.

Her eyes soften by the minute as she shifts her balance on one side against her door frame. "Okay. As long as I don't have to apologize and I'm not risking my valedictorian spot, I'm going to hang on to your words."

He tries to conceal just how delighted those words sound from her mouth as he retains his composed mien. "Great. Now can you please come down and eat? You haven't eaten all day. Got me worried there, kid."

She looks up at him through her lashes in a contrite yet somehow innocent way. As if she was sentenced for a crime that everybody is absolutely sure she committed from all the concrete evidence but she's still able to emulate confidence that she believes she's innocent, which manages to make the juries think twice about what the verdict is. 

"Sorry, Ben. I'm coming down with you, okay?"

He shakes his head. "Don't ever scare me like that again. Not eating just to spite me. That is petty and detrimental of you to do that, you know? Christ."

She bites her lip. "I won't do it again." Abstractedly, her nimble hands reach up to fix his collar before she runs her palms down his chest to supposedly smooth his shirt. "You care about me so much."

He narrows his eyes at her though he can still feel his ears burning hot. "You just found that out now?"

A dulcet laugh escapes her lips and he finds himself aching to hear that again.

He ignores the hollowness in his chest. "And you know I have some other records too. You don't have to listen to fucking Tony Bennett when I have some records by The Strokes somewhere in there."

"It's nice to pretend like I'm in a black-and-white movie." She lets out a dramatized sigh. "Fits my melancholy mood."

"Drama queen."

She sticks out her tongue and gently shoves his chest. "You just found that out now?"

Just as he had promised Amilyn, Rey is returning to her mother's house today. Which is understandable, since Rey's birthday is approaching soon and Amilyn obviously has something planned for her daughter.

All morning, Rey makes sure that her dissatisfaction about the arrangement is patent and conspicuous through insolence as she dramatically sighs and huffs and copiously crossing her arms against her chest, fixating a glare on his face and when he does look at her, she starts rolling her eyes and pouting.

It's like she's trying to induce him to bend her over his lap and smack that cute ass of hers.

Of course he doesn't, nor would he ever do that.

"She's your mother, Rey," he says when she's plopping down next to him on the couch, already packing her suitcase probably filled with her textbooks and laptop since she has her clothes and makeup at both of her houses. He pretends to read the magazine in his lap. "You live with her, not me."

"I know," she says indignantly. "Let me wallow in my chagrin in peace so it will be easier for me to put up the whole 'good daughter' act around her. Can't believe I have to look at fucking Poe again."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Did you know that kid you beat up is no longer going to Yale? In fact, all of the Ivy Leagues are not accepting him now."

He doesn't look up from his New Yorker magazine but he knows her face is lighting up right now.

"What?" she says.

His middle finger flips the page. "Hmm. He was supposed to attend Yale this fall but not anymore, thanks to my connection. Safe to say his parents are seething as we speak. The only place that's going to accept him is some community college."

She squeals and pushes the magazine off of his lap as she jumps toward him, straddling him. "Ben!" she exclaims, planting a big, fat kiss on his cheek. He thought her lips would feel slightly sticky because of her lip gloss but they're soft and warm against his skin. "How did you do it?"

His chest is so full as he laughs jovially. "I told you I would take care of it." He pokes the tip of her nose with his finger. "But as a way to thank me, you have to be on your best behaviour around your mother, okay? She's trying."

A sigh escapes her and she drops her head on his shoulder. He realizes at this moment that she's sitting in his lap and it is probably an inappropriate position for a stepfather and his seventeen-year-old stepdaughter to be in.

He clears his throat, deliberately depositing her off of his lap and stands up so she won't think too much of it. "Let me check if your mother texted yet. I think I left my phone in my bedroom."

But just as he's about to make an ascent up the staircase, he hears the doorbell ring followed by his ex-wife's voice. "Ben? I'm here."

He can't help but sigh. This house is going to feel empty and hollow and lifeless again when Rey leaves. He jogs downstairs and gets the door, plastering a fake smile on his face. "Hey. Sorry if you called or texted. My phone is upstairs and I was about to grab it actually."

Amilyn simply waves her hand dismissively, casually walking past him and making herself at home as she walks ahead and juts her head out at the staircase to call out Rey's name.

Ben still lingers dumbly by the door. It's like an automatic response every time he's around his ex-wife. He just freezes and becomes rigid, wondering how the fuck did he go from one place to another. Just as he's about to close the door, Poe jogs toward him and says, "Hold up!"

"Oh, you brought lover boy here," Ben says loudly for Amilyn to hear.

Poe makes a face. "Say whatever you want but you're going to have to endure my face for a long ass time. I'm in for the long haul, buddy." Okay, say that to Amilyn's marriage track record. She may as well be the Elizabeth Taylor of the decade. "I'm here to fetch my stepdaughter from her ex-stepfather."

"There's no such thing as ex-stepdad," Ben says annoyedly. "This is her home too."

"Why don't you find another woman with her own seventeen-year-old daughter and leave my family alone?" Poe rebuts.

"Why don't you work on your own personality so your stepdaughter doesn't keep crawling back here to avoid you?" Ben counters.

Poe compresses his lips in disdain. "I'm going to the gents. I'll find my way."

"Help yourself," Ben says with zero amount of sincerity.

"Rey?" Amilyn calls out before she says to herself, "Where the hell is this girl?" Then she turns toward him and clasps her hip. "So I booked a venue for her birthday this weekend."

"I told you I could have done all that," he says with his arms crossed against his chest.

"Yes, but I want to be one arranging the whole thing this year," she says restively and looks at the mirror in the foyer to fix her hair and the mascara smudges under her eyes. She places her purse on the table where he puts his keys and keeps his mail in the drawer. "You've handled it for the last two years. This is my baby's eighteenth birthday. She's entering adulthood. It's my turn to make the day special.”

Ben can't help but smile as he nods. "Okay, okay. I'm not gonna fight with you on that. You have the say in this."

She looks at him through the mirror before she digs through her purse and takes out her lipstick. "I do have a say in this." She applies the burgundy lipstick and smacks her lips together. "Are you making her a dress for the occasion?"

"No," he says glumly. "You said you have it handled so I let you handle it. Like you told me to."

Her face beams as she caps her lipstick and tosses it back in her purse. "It's enough that you've made her the prom dress and her graduation dress."

He rolls his eyes. "I know but you're still contributing to the dress if you just let me tailor her dress based on whatever design you have in your mind." He doesn't mean to brag or anything but he's pretty sure no one knows Rey's body quite like he does. He's an expert at the opus of Rey Holdo.

By that, he means the curvature and the seams. The shape of her when it comes to her measurements. Not... whatever else.

"It doesn't matter because I already got a dress for her," she says obstinately. "All you have to do is come to the party. The only thing that could ruin her day is if you're not there."

Ben's eyes soften as he stares at his ex-wife. "Amilyn..."

She lifts her hand and flashes him a peremptory look. "I don't want to hear it. Okay? I know how much you mean to her." She takes a deep breath. "I'm not going to stop her from seeing you. But if you, you know... If you want to cut ties—which I would completely understand—just tell me beforehand, okay? Don't—Don't simply leave. Don't devastate my baby."

He can read between the lines.

Don't break her heart.

He nods. "I'm not gonna leave her."

"I know but we'll never know what the future holds for us," she says, suddenly looking so small like she's lowering her defenses. "I just have to reiterate just how important you are to her. You need to be a little bit delicate. She's counting on you too much. You've been such a great father figure to her."

His chest aches just hearing that. "Don't say that. She's easy to love."

She looks down and laughs almost listlessly. "I know but still." She raises her gaze to meet his eyes again. "You're the best stepfather a mother could ask for her daughter."

His lips quirk into a small smile. "You raised a wonderful kid. I know she'll warm up to Poe soon enough."

"God, I hope so." Her eyes dart towards the staircase. "I really love him and... I want this marriage to stick. After four failed marriages—Oh God, enough is enough."

That makes him laugh. "Fair, fair."

Rey finally appears as she steps out of the elevator with her Gucci backpack and Rimowa suitcase in her hands, scowling fractiously. "I hate packing," she grumbles.

Poe jogs down the stairs when he spots Rey. "Let me help you with that," Ben's adversary says, maintaining that Prince Charming act when he tries to take Rey's suitcase from her.

"Thanks but I can handle it," Rey says with hauteur.

"Rey, let Poe help you," Ben says although he can't fully wipe off the smirk on his mouth. Maybe he's simply saying that to show that Rey would do anything he says.

Just as expected, Rey groans and yields her suitcase to Poe.

"I'll see you again, Ben," she says once she's standing in front of him. "Thanks for everything."

Ben nods, trying to keep his emotions in check as he maintains his equanimity. "Come back anytime." At the sound of Amilyn clearing her throat, he says almost monotonously like he's reading from a script, "But only with your mother's permission, of course."

Amilyn rolls her eyes. "Bye Ben," she says amiably, nodding at him.

He nods back in response. "Bye, Ames."

She presses her lips into a thin line. He knows she hates being called that but that's what makes it so much fun.

"You sure you don't want to stay awhile and have something to drink?" Ben offers. "I got a bottle of pink wine."

Amilyn sighs and pushes her hair back. "I wish I could but we're already running out of time, which I know is my fault because I was held up by a patient."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Ben says. "Next time, yeah?"

She smiles. "Sure." She glances at Poe and does a 'let's go' gesture with a tilt of her head. Poe obliges.

"Solo," Poe says with a curt nod.

"Dameron," is all Ben says.

And now he's left alone with Rey when those lovebirds are out of the door.

Rey holds onto his shoulder as she reaches up (even in her high heels) to kiss his cheek before she gives him a brief hug. He ignores the way his stomach flips when she does that. 

"I'll call you," she murmurs when she pulls away, her hands are on his chest.

"Okay," he says, staring at her face to commemorate this sight, knowing he'll miss her as soon as she steps out of the door.

"Will you be okay on your own here, old man?" she teases. "Won't you get lonely?"

He rolls his eyes. "I'm a grown man, Rey. I'll be fine. I was alone for most of my life before you and your mother came along."

She smiles, dropping her hands from his chest. "Alright, if you say so," she singsongs. "I'll see you again very soon."

"I know you will." He's already looking forward to it.

As his stepdaughter stands on the threshold, she gives him one last look before she leaves.

And then he's alone in his enormous house again.

His body is damp with sweat as he wakes up with a start. The room is still dark and when he looks at the digital clock on his nightstand, the time states that it's four in the morning. He breathes hard and feels his forehead. It's scalding. His whole face is burning.

He hops off the bed and makes his way toward his bathroom, turning on the cold tap water and splashing his face with it.

What the fuck was that dream?

He looks in the mirror to see the repulsive face staring back at him.

"You just had a dream about your stepdaughter," he tells himself in the mirror. "You are depraved."

Of course he knows his dreams are beyond his control but there must be something in his sick head that is stirred and summons the dream itself. He tries to shake off the memory as he gets back under his covers, covering his face with his palms. At least he didn't fucking jizz in his pants, though that's really the bare minimum.

For the next half an hour, he's just tossing and turning. Maybe he should just give up trying to go back to sleep and go make himself a cup of coffee or something. He could use this time to work out.

But he's laying on his stomach, his face in his pillow as he lets out a muffled scream.

He needs coffee. Lots of it. Maybe whiskey neat. Or a goddamn psychiatrist.

That was just a dream. It was nothing. He hasn't done anything wrong. Maybe he just misses her and somehow his brain turns it into something else. It has been a long time since he had a woman in his house, since he dated anyone after Amilyn. And Rey has been the only female presence in his life that his brain somehow mistakes her as a lover instead of a daughter, when that should be the case. His love language has always been spoiling them and taking care of them the way he has been doing with her.

He's lonely. That's all. It's about time he finds someone anyway, someone whom he can raise a family with.

With that thought that is enough to appease him, he rolls onto his back and exhales.

But when he closes his eyes, the image that his head conjures is her face, her eyes closed and her mouth parts slightly. He sees a heaving chest and his ears are ringing with "please" and moans. The figure becomes less nebulous as it reveals the tan skin, dotted with freckles, cute, little tits that bounce nicely for him as she rides him.

His jaw hurts and his whole body jerks when he thinks about that familiar yet slightly more pleading voice calling him 'Daddy' over and over again. And somehow his perfidious hand finds its way down to his cock (he always sleeps naked when he's home alone), closing around it firmly and stroking it a couple of times. He doesn't think there's anything more abhorrent and depraved about what he's doing right now. No one loathes him more than himself as he gives in to the thought and cries out when he picks up his speed.

Uttering her name makes this—his dream, his sick thought—even more substantial and he should be horrified and cursing himself right now but he's pushed to the edge of the crest instead. The head of his shaft is trickled by pre-ejaculation, proof of his iniquity.

Flashes of her with her hair dripping wet fill his head, reminders of that night she came home from the party and he was dropping off her vitamins. Some parts of her skin are singed, probably from the hot shower. The sight of her is as sweet as the garden of Eden, or perhaps Eve herself as she takes a bite of the apple as she gives in to her wrong temptations.

"Rey," he cries out hoarsely, perspiration beading his hairline. "Oh fuck, Rey. Please."

He grits his teeth as he thinks about her in her prom gown, in his own creation. If he could just bend her over the desk as she wears the gown and ruins his own handiwork just to touch her, just to be inside her, just to be close to her.

A pained groan emits his mouth as he spills his spends on his chest. His orgasm feels interminable, draining all his energy.

Because as soon as he's done, he finds himself laying there listlessly. Staring at the ceiling with remorse gnawing at him.

He wouldn't be surprised if he becomes an alcoholic from this moment on. 

Chapter Text

The next two weeks have been facile. Uneventful.

And lacking Rey.

Usually he dreads the absence of her in his home. Every time he comes home, he can't help the disappointment crawling on his skin when he finds that no one is in her bedroom. Nor in his living or in his office where she likes to dawdle and place her feet on his desk as she plays with her phone. Nor would he find her in his living room, in her shorts as she watches some ridiculous drama on TV that is most of the time scandalous and heavily sexualised. Nor would he hear the pop music blaring from her bedroom.

All he finds is a vacant home. Not a soul except him in this massive edifice.

In a way, he's slightly grateful because he needs to figure out how to get rid of the dreams he has been having about her. Of course one of the solutions would be to pick up someone at the bar and bring them home—or at a hotel—so he can fuck her out of his system. He knows it's his loneliness that should be blamed. His conscience starts to blur as he hankers for accompaniment and he's barely able to differentiate between a wife and a stepdaughter when he sees Rey.

Working out has been a great distraction. His fists are red and blue and purple from his boxing session. The session went from being a once in a while thing to a triweekly thing as he puts on his gloves and abuses his punching bag in his office.

And when he's not channeling all his frustrations on the punching bag, he's sketching. And the sketch papers always end up in the trash bin as he jettisons them. He thinks his days as a fashion designer are ending because the only thing he sketches now is pure garbage.

But just because Rey hasn't been coming around for sometime (Amilyn insists on monitoring her at home as she preps for her SAT), Rey still makes sure that  she's the constant object in his mind as she occasionally drops some text messages in his inbox and attaches them with her selfies.

He rolls his eyes at that. She says that as if she's the one cooking every time she comes over.

That makes him smile.

He knows exactly what occasion this Saturday is. Which reminds him that he needs to drop by Fifth Avenue tomorrow after work.

He also has no doubt that she would personally call his mother so he's not going to take that chance.

It's funny that his mother has never been that fond of Amilyn but adores Rey like she's her own granddaughter even though she's not.

Rey's charm is really a mystery.

A sigh falls on his lips as he stares at her recent selfie that she sent him before he locks his phone. He has a meeting with the team in China in fifteen minutes and if he doesn't get a hold of himself right now, no one is going to take him seriously.

President of the company spacing out during an important meeting when the team from China has to be up early just to acclimate to his schedule and time zone? If they know just what (well, who, if he's going to be technical about it) he's thinking of exactly—

Christ. The scandal.

He places his phone down with the screen facing down as he forces his attention to the regional VP from China's side.

"...and I didn't know how to, like, even show my face to my wife after that, which just made her suspect something even more and God, she's definitely thinking I'm cheating on her, is she?"

Ben simply moves his glass around in his palm, letting the bourbon stir on its own as he offers an inquisitive smile. "Look, I know my advice is the last thing you want right now because of my track record when it comes to my marriage—talk about the shortest marriage ever, huh?—but literally the only thing you have to do is talk to her."

He's not going to lie. Sometimes he does miss having a wife. Like even when he's fucked up, it's nice to have someone he can talk to. Hell, it's kind of nice to have someone nag him because at least there's somebody that cares enough to do so. Cares enough to worry, cares enough to emote from his action, cares enough to listen.

At the end of the day, he just wants that kind of presence in his life.

Snap lets out a groan before he nurses his beer. "I fucked up so bad. How could I fuck up that badly? How can I look in my wife's eyes and say, "Honey, I screwed up with the account so now we might not be able to go on that vacation we've been talking about.""

Ben narrows his eyes at his friend. "Do you actually think your wife cares more about the vacation than the frustration you've been feeling right now?"

"She's been wanting a break for a while," Snap says, shaking his head. "I want to give that to her. Want to take her to Italy like she's been wanting to. I can't bear to see the disappointment on her face."

Snap and his wife have been married for almost seventeen years now and out of those seventeen years, Ben can count how many times they've properly taken a vacation. With kids running around their house, he can understand where they come from and why exactly they need a break.

Ben completely understands that.

God, a vacation is exactly what he needs too right now.

A goddamn break.

He almost considers skipping this party altogether but he knows that would raise even more suspicions and make it obvious that he has been avoiding her.

Looking at the passenger seat next to him, he can feel his shoulders slump down when he sighs at the sight of the big white rectangle box wrapped in red mesh ribbon.

From the driveway, even from inside his car, he can hear the music blaring from the mansion Amilyn rented for this occasion. He or Amilyn would use their own house for this but Rey wants a pool party and neither of them has a pool at their home.

And whatever Rey wants, she gets it.

After giving himself a self pep talk in front of the mirror and taking a couple of deep breaths, he finally turns off the ignition and grabs the gift from the passenger seat.

He knows this is just a pre-party where only the adults and relatives are invited. The real party is probably after nine—maybe at the pool house—where all her high school friends would join.

Amilyn's face appears as the door opens, her chiffon bun is tucked neatly. Relief seems to wash over her face, causing him to wonder what could evoke such a response.

"Thank God you're here," she says.

His brows draw closer together. "Why would you say that?"

She shakes her head and lets out a heavy exhale as she ushers him inside. "Rey is a complete mess right now. Like she was actually convinced that you wouldn't come for some reason. I asked her what made her think that way and she just said she has a feeling." Amilyn seems like she's on the prowl as she moves here and there, smiling at the guests, making sure the servers do their job at passing the hors d'oeuvres an drinks around all while conversing with Ben.

Ben feels the knot in his stomach. Of course the girl would sense something is wrong. She's good at pretending like everything is fine but he should've known that she would suspect something. "Where is she?" he asks, placing his gift on the round table in the foyer where the rest of the gifts are gathered.

"Just now she was sulking at the staircase. I don't know if she's still there now after I told her it's rude not to talk to the guests who are here for her."

All Ben is able to do is purse his lips as his eyes scan the room, searching for a certain sulking girl who would never let him know she's upset.

He checks the staircase and she's not there. He walks up to find no sight of Rey, not even in any of the bedrooms.

He descends down the stairs, clasping his hips as he racks his brain. He continues his search in the kitchen, then the living room, before he finally finds her outside at the poolside. With her satin olive green dress that matches her eyes, she glistens from the pale moonlight and the light reflected from the water in the pool. A stick of cigarette is between her fingers while her other hand is holding what looks like a glass of wine as she stares blankly into the water.

Fuck, she's ethereal.  Like a mystical creature. A mermaid calling for him. Ben's eyes stay glued to her as he stands frozen.

There is a slight sadness in her expression that somehow captivates him. She takes a sip of her wine and he watches her shoulders slump when she lets out a sigh.

As he starts approaching her, his gait ends when he discovers that she's not alone.

Her lips curl into a little smile as a stranger to Ben wraps his jacket around her slim body. The man—no, a boy compared to Ben—places his mouth on her neck, circling his arms around her from behind.

And Rey...

She gives in.

Rigid at first before she loosens, leaning into the touch.

And Ben sees red.

Or more green, actually.

The boy whispers something in her ear, eliciting a small laugh from her that echoes through the air.

He's not sure what he's feeling right now. Twisted knots curling in his stomach, hands tightening into a fist, heart beating fast.

He convinces himself to leave them alone. Whatever fury he's feeling right now is probably just his protectiveness. Paternal instinct. This is Rey—someone he would take a bullet for.

Nothing else. Nothing more. 

Looking away from what he's seeing right now and turning around takes every bit of his strength but he does it because this is none of his business. She's grown up now. She can do what she wants and sees whoever she wants.

And this boy—at least he's 1) age appropriate and 2) nothing like this Vicrul guy his ex wife was talking about. This boy seems decent.

Unless this is the Vicrul boy and his ex wife had been exaggerating. Which, knowing Amilyn, wouldn’t surprise him.

He heads back inside and finds himself craving for nicotine more than anything. 

A pair of hands rest on his shoulders, causing him to jump in surprise.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," his ex wife says, leading him to the living room where it seems emptier now that everyone has probably moved to the dining place. They both take a seat on the couch. "You seem pale. Are you okay?"

He lets out a huff of chuckle and shrugs. "Just have a lot in my mind right now," he says. "Haven't been acting like myself these days."

Amilyn frowns before offering him a sympathetic look. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Yeah, sure. Would be great to tell your ex-wife that you've been confused after having a sex dream about her daughter and you don't know how to wrap your head around that. That sounds like a fantastic idea.

Ben smiles and pats his hand on her thigh lightly. "Thanks for the offer but..." He sighs through his nose. "It's one of the things I need to figure out myself, you know."

Her lips are smiling but the smile doesn't reach her eyes. "I mean I know we're not together anymore but—I guess this is for future reference. When you find someone else one day." The sadness is apparent in her eyes as she meets his. "When we were together, I'd always wished you were able to open up to me more, you know. I was your wife. I wanted you to be able to talk to me about anything but you always loved keeping everything to yourself and not letting me in even after I asked you to. You were perfect in every way but that little thing... I hope you don't do that to the lucky girl who'll steal your heart one day. It could make us feel so lonely in the relationship." A tear forms on the corner of her right eye. "Just a little tip, I guess. From a friend to a friend."

He can feel the pang in his chest as he stares at her. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way." 

She places her hand on his cheek. "No grudges. I just had to get that off my chest."

Ben leans into her palm. "Thank you. For telling me that."

She nods. "Yeah." She lowers her hand and looks up, the diamond and amethyst on her fingers shine under the light as she wipes off that one small tear on the corner of her eye. "I don't know what got to me." She lets out a small laugh. "Come on. It's almost time for the cutting cake. If I can find the birthday girl."

They both make a move to stand up.

"Yeah, I think I have an idea where she might be—" His words get cut off when he sees the princess herself waltzing in.

Rey's mouth opens as she stares at him in bewilderment.

The wind is knocked out of his when all of the sudden, his face is buried in her soft hair that smells minty and her lean arms are wrapped around his neck before he can feel her chest pressed against his.

"You came," she cries out, pulling him closer as she tightens her arms around him.

Just like that, he turns into a puddle as he melts, reciprocating her hug. "I wouldn't miss it, kid." He closes his eyes, savoring the moment. "Happy birthday. You look beautiful."

She pulls away and smiles, looking at him like he would disappear any moment if she blinks. No one has ever really looked at him that way. Not that he remembers.

"Thank you," she says, holding both of his hands. "I'm glad you made it."

"Me too."

It does feel like the whole world fades as he looks at her. Nothing else matters right now but her. It's her world and he's just living in it.

And he's okay with that.

Chapter Text

As much as he mourns the seasonal absence of the summer dresses as they all have been replaced by either dark or neutral colored outerwear, he still appreciates the intricate styles. Now he has to wrap his neck with his Gucci scarf, thrusting his hands into his pockets to weather the cold. 

Summer dresses are a nice distraction when walking to his office building but right now, his mind is too focused on the approaching spring season. With the award seasons and the Met Gala, everyone is on alert and winter season is the time to get prepping. 

Of course, the haute couture to launch their new designs before these designs will be on the red carpet of big events.

Hours begin to blur that he barely knows when the day ends and the night begins. Every time he enters the building, his team crowd around him with messages from potential clients, ideas for the new designs, "Should we bring back puffed sleeves?" and fabrics are surrounding him.  

He simply nods at them in acknowledgment, glancing at his assistant and giving her an expectant look and she smiles sheepishly, knowing exactly what he's asking for the moment he enters his office. 

List. 

Concise messages. 

He already knows his calendar is all booked up and all he has to do is be present at these events already scheduled by his assistant. Drawings and photo collages are on his table for his approval, back-to-back meetings have been set where he needs to decide the vision for this season and the upcoming fall-winter collection based on the current trends and the prediction. 

In the midst of him studying the materials that will be discussed later during the meetings as he picks up the coffee mug that his assistant had already made for him, he stops at one of the pages of the proposal he was skimming through and immediately imagines Rey in this. His finger traces the outline of the drawing, imagining this made from diamond. Rey, covered in nothing but diamonds and laces, is an image that turns his brain into overdrive. 

He hears the soft knock behind him and he already knows exactly who it is. Always on time with her bagels that she got on the way. 

"You seem stressed," she points out.

He turns his head slightly without moving his body, already smelling the buttery croissant. "Award season is coming," he says.

She pads towards him and takes him by surprise when she rests her body against his back and places her chin on his shoulder. "I heard one of the clients is the princess of Geneva herself," she says softly, rubbing her palm up and down his arm. She looks over his shoulder at the drawings scattering his desk. "My hardworking old man."

Her words immediately soothe him as he drops his shoulders and lets out a sigh. "So many decisions to make."

She moves until she's standing next to him, her arm brushing against his as she studies the collages of photos on his desk. "Pretty," she murmurs, her fingers tracing along one of the designs.

It's one of his favorites too that he can't wait to launch at the haute couture. An intricate deep v-neck lace top with bell sleeves sewn onto the corset waist. The silk skirt drapes into a mermaid shape that reaches the floor.

This is the dress that will be the finale for the show this weekend.

"Are you nervous?" she asks. "Do you still get nervous after all these years?"

He's not sure exactly how to answer it because at this point, his brain is just on autopilot. He trusts his team now, he has his own process and they've done all the planning. He already has the contingency plans, all the possible what-ifs and plan Bs.

"Maybe not nervous," he says after a pausing for a second. "But it's thrilling every time. The rush. The chaos, panic, all the planning, the hyper focus. It reminds me why I'm doing this in the first place. Creating and then being able to share with the whole world. Combines two of my favorite things. Beauty and power."

She chews her lower lip, crossing her arms as she keeps studying all the photos on his desk. "It's this weekend, right? The show?"

He nods and hums. He turns to her, almost commanding her to mirror him without telling her to do it.

And she does as she faces him, looking up at him.

"Did you enjoy your birthday, sweetheart?"

Her face immediately lights up. "I did," she breathes out. "Thank you for your gift."

His cheeks immediately turn flushed. "It's nothing. But tell me you did not return most of the gifts or get store credits, did you?"

She makes a face at him where she scrunches her nose. "I did not." Then she mutters out, "I haven't opened all the gifts."

He narrows his eyes. "Rey."

"I'm even wearing one of the gifts!" she protests, suddenly taking off her coat to reveal the outfit she's wearing underneath. His eyes immediately go to the tight leather top with a sweetheart neckline that pushed her chest together nicely.

His brain stops dead for a second as he gets focused on the freckles all over her tanned skin.

"The necklace is nice, right?"

Necklace?

Right.

Necklace.

He forgot about that.

Of course someone wouldn't design and gift her a sort of leather corset that hugs her chest nicely—

"Glad you didn't sell it on eBay, sweetie," he says, fixating his gaze on her and only on her face. Not lower. Not an inch.

She scoffs. "People sell stuff on TikTok these days now. Did you know that? Surely your marketing department has told you."

"I am not that out of touch."

She smiles teasingly. "Sure, you aren't."

"Who is it from?" he asks and immediately hating how eager he sounds. 

Rey tucks her hair behind her ear and backs away from him. "A friend," she mumbles.

He couldn't help but putting his hand on his hip. "It's not V—"

"No, it's not him."

Jesus, kids these days move on so fast How is she already seeing someone else? 

Her cheeks turn red, answering most of his questions in his head. 

"A friend," he repeats dubiously. 

She nods. "Mmhmm." Then she adds under her breath, "For now."

His brows lift up. 

"As kids call these days," she says. "We're in a sort of a talking stage."

"Talking stage, huh." He tries not to sound disapproving but unfortunately he's terrible at hiding his disappointment. He can hide his emotions pretty well except disappointment. "What the hell is a talking stage?"

Her lips curl into an amused smile. It's the face she always makes every time he acts extra "old". "Basically the getting to know each other phase."

"Isn't that called 'dating'?" 

"Yeah, but you haven't made things official yet or dating exclusively yet and still deciding on the feelings—"

"Why do you kids always overcomplicate stuff?"

She scrunches her nose at him. He can't help but think how adorable she looks when she does that, especially with the freckles scattering all over that area. 

"I'm telling you, I was not like that at your age or ever," he says. "I make my intentions clear. If I start seeing someone, they would know that we are dating."

"But how do you know you are not wasting your time? How do you know they actually like you?"

"They would be no talking stage, just few dates because back then there were no text messages. Actually, yes, there were text messages but we also had limits. We just preferred to go on a date, get to know each other then by the third date, there would already be a silent label between us that we were exclusively dating each other if we kept seeing each other."

"I watched Sex and the City and I know that show is from your time. There were fuckboys back then too. Don't lie to me."

He lets out a laugh. "I was in college during the show, Rey. That show is about people in their at least early thirties. Different dating scene."

"And already those people were playing around. You are not Mr. Big, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't be married to your mom if I were, would I?"

"Took you a long time to settle though. What were you doing before marrying her?"

"Building my business?"

She raises her hands up. "Alright, you win."

He grins, putting his hand on the top of her head and ruffling her hair. "Cute."

She points a finger at him. "That's exactly what Mr. Big said to Carrie on the first episode!"

He rolls his eyes. "Alright, croissant's getting cold. Let's eat."

-

He and Rey fall back into their old routine so soon after her birthday where she regularly pays him a visit at his workplace, either bringing a packed lunch for him or taking a seat on his desk with those doe eyes as she convinces him if he can take a break and have lunch outside.

And he makes the time every time while she smiles victoriously.

Today she brought her home cooked lemon ginger chicken, mixed vegetables and rice. Her stilettos lay on the floor as she sits with legs folded and crossed together on the couch, facing him. He still has his feet on the floor but he still tries to face her, picking his food with his chopsticks.

"The prom committee had another argument about this year's theme even though we already started decorating since it's literally this weekend," she says, rolling her eyes. "The prop team almost kicked that big ass Oscar statue they painted together because suddenly the committee's VP thinks Hollywood theme is way too basic."

He shakes his head with mirth, not able to keep his eyes off of her as he chews his food. There is that youthfulness about her that he really misses. That youthfulness that gravitates him towards her and makes him want to keep watching her, keep listening to her, absorbing every single word that comes out of that mouth of hers. That voice of hers.

At some point, maybe she starts to realize that he has been staring because she starts to grow bashful as she looks down and her face reddens. "Silly high school things, I know. Not as interesting as managing a company, I'm sure."

He scoffs. "No, no. Managing a company is boring as hell, sweetheart. It’s lonely up here. If I have to see one more scheduled meetings in my calendar about shit that they've been circling around when the solution can be seen from forty meetings ago but their stupid ego refuse to acknowledge it—I'd take prom committee meeting anytime."

She lets out a mix of giggle and snort, licking the sauce off the corner of her mouth. "You're the top leader. Can't you do something about it?"

He nods. "I can. But I can't micromanage every time. I would only put a stop if it has a big impact like if a lot of money goes into it or if it can save my time. But for something as petty as this, I'd prefer they manage it and come to that conclusion on their own. It's how I train them."

They both put down the lunch boxes on the coffee table after they've finished their meals.

That is when Rey starts scooting closer, hugging her knees to her body. "I love how your eyes just light up every time you talk about work. You really love doing what you're doing, do you?" 

He can feel the blush creep up his cheeks as he chuckles and looks down. "I built this company with a vision in my head and I have witnessed the vision coming true." He looks up at her again. "As cheesy as this sounds, it's good to have dreams and goals, Rey. Even if you lose a lot, like… people. It’s just something you have to face.” He looks at her. “And I want you have your own dreams and I want them to come true too. For you. One thing I'm sure about you is I know you can make those happen for yourself too."

She scoots closer to him and hugs his arm, resting her head on his bicep. "I have you as my mentor and that's already a strong foundation to my future." 

He places a kiss on the top of her head. "Such an opportunist." His little girl.

She hums, the sound vibrates against his body. As she crosses her legs, she lets her foot brush against his shin.

In that moment, all he can feel is the warmth and that sense of comfort unfurl in his chest. His eyes almost close as time passes by even though time is one of the things he values knowing the hours in the day are never sufficient. 

But Rey. 

Rey is worth his time.

-

Since Rey has been visiting him so often, everyone in the office starts treating her like she's one of them. He notices the way everyone says hi to her and at times, she buys them coffee and asks them about their weekend or their family. That attentiveness makes her seem so much older than she looks and it is almost admirable.

She has been making herself useful at the office beyond just buying everyone coffee. He notices when she's helping some of the older employees on how to use Canva, volunteering herself to do the photocopying, fetching some of the items from the storage room like the pins and pearls.

At first he could see everyone was hesitant accepting her help, especially when he was around but Rey, being stubborn that she is, insisted on doing it. "Please, guys, I'm not even remotely related to your boss so let me help when I want to, thanks!"

"You know you're not being paid as an intern here, do you?" Ben had teased her once. "There's no contract agreement for that yet."

She rolled her eyes, helping herself with his espresso machine. "I know, I know." She took a sip of her cup of coffee. "But it's fun and I'm kind of learning a lot. Also, Agatha is so cute when she's so clueless with her Canva skills."

Today he comes in after a 10-am meeting to find Rey here as usual during her school lunch break, apparently acting as a... director. She's holding the phone up, gesturing Finn to move to the side. "Remember: Smile but don't look at the camera," she instructs.

"Now where is my marketing team when I need them?" Ben says sternly. "Are you doing your job?"

Rey turns at him. "Oh no, no, this is all completely their idea!" she says. "I just thought something is missing so I decided to help out. You know, I'm on Instagram like twenty four seven. TikTok, not so much, but I know trends. I'm here to offer my Gen-Z perceptions."

The marketing team nod in unison, averting his eyes.

Ben purses his lips at her. "I don't know if you've been helping with everybody's productivity here or prove that maybe Gen Z kids are more efficient than I thought." Everybody's performance has been improving since she starts helping out here.

Which might be his fault because he has not agreed to take in an intern to this company yet, believing this everyone here can do the job just fine.

As much as the HR manager of his company keeps insisting that hiring interns is not only to give help but it's their company's way of fostering eager new talents. Ben's mind is mostly about the cost and efficiency how this can impact two of those things.

But he notices that it's not Rey being helpful that cultivates everybody's productivity here.

It's her energy. 

Damn it. His fucking HR manager is right.

"You've done enough now, Rey," he says. He tilts his head toward his office. "Come with me now."

Rey hands the phone in her hand to Finn. "Yes, sir." She turns to the team in front of her. "Just remember my comments and you guys will do great!"

Ben rolls his eyes at her sassiness, already padding his way to his office.

When she enters his office and closes the door behind her, she gives him those innocent doe-eyed look. "Are you mad at me?"

He raises one brow at her, crossing his arms. "Of course not, honey."

"Well then?" she prods.

He lowers himself until he sits slightly on his desk. "What have you learned from being around here?"

She furrows her brows. "What do you mean?"

"Do you like being here?"

She shrugs. "It's alright. Maybe I do. Why?"

He shakes her head. "Thought maybe after you graduate, I can actually offer you an internship here. But I will have you be more involved in some of the projects so you get the full exposure. I think you would do great in managing business, Rey."

The surprise in her eyes shows that she did not expect that from him. "You're offering me a job?"

"Yeah." He smiles. "If you're not comfortable with me being your mentor, I can assign someone as experienced to be one for you here."

She lets out a breathy laugh, covering her mouth. "I would love nothing more but..."

He can feel his smile dropping.

"I love being here, Ben, but..." She walks towards him.

Why is it when she approaches him like this, his heart starts beating fast?

"I want to try exploring what's out there. As in... another fashion company."

"Oh."

She reaches for his hands. "It's nothing like that. I am tempted to have you write my reference letter as well but I also want to try to make my way myself. Like, sure, I'm grateful for the good network I already have and I realise my privilege is something I can't just ignore. The nepotism and all. And it's the fact that I'm telling you I would like to work for your competitors. But I'm hoping you can still understand why I want to do this."

It's this moment that he realizes how grown she has become. He doesn't expect her to already want to start making her own decision, especially when he remembers when he was her age, he knew nothing. Jack shit.

It's a little hard to accept but he sighs defeatedly anyway. It's not even her decision that's hard to accept.

It's the fact that she's growing and slipping out of his fingers. 

"Okay," he murmurs. He can feel shiver running down his spine when she circles her thumb around the back of his hand. "If that's what you want. But you're welcome here anytime, okay?"

She smiles, the dimples on her cheeks deepening when smiles like that. Eyes crinkling, lips squeezed together, nose scrunching. 

Fucking adorable. 

"I love you," she says in a singsong tone, releasing his hand so she can wrap her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Ben."

He succumbs immediately in her embrace, unwittingly inhaling the scent of her soft hair as he buries his face in it. It's almost... comfortable. Cozy. Everything about this. The coconut scent of her hair, the softness of it, the way her small frame fits perfectly in his arms, the warmth of her body pressed against his.

Can he stay in these feelings forever?

He has to hold back a noise of protest that almost escaped his throat when she pulls away. "Come on. Let's have lunch."

-

The few days leading up to the fashion show were the critical ones. He usually takes at least three shots of espresso in a day but today he had at least six.

He can see the whole team is under a lot of stress as well from the dark circles around their eyes, their undone hair (or just the frequency of running their fingers through it), the bloodshot eyes, the occasional screaming matches, and of course the running around for the fabric they might have run out.

Ben traverses around the atelier to see how the progress had been. At times, it can be quite thrilling—this whole adrenaline rush. 

The models stay still as his team add fabrics onto their bodies according to the design they had agreed on during the meeting. He also checks with his assistant on the guest list and how many people can make it.

This task—Rey was quick to offer her help with the number of "influencer" friends she had from being a rich girl at a rich school who also occasionally hang out at the rich kids' spots. 

And speaking of Rey...

"I brought coffee!" her voice chirps. Just from the sound of her voice, he can definitely see the air shift and there is more levity in the air as everyone's shoulders loosen and they all turn to look at her. 

She just has that impact even during this critical time. She knows how to navigate her time without taking too much space. 

She distributes the drinks to everyone with the help of his administrative staff.

At that point, he can feel his chest glow as he watches her in her natural state, gliding from one work station to another. She's so amazing at it as she places her hand comfortably on his employees' shoulder and focuses on what they're saying to her.

Finally she meets his eyes and she beams, padding towards him with her flushed cheeks. "I know your office has an amazing Nespresso machine but..." She holds out a cup of what seems like an iced coffee (almost sparkling?) for him. "I got you this iced espresso and tonic for you to start the day. I know, it doesn't sound like something you might enjoy but I kinda want to see your face when you sip it."

That somehow elicits a chuckle out of him as he takes the cup from her, letting his fingers brush against hers. "Iced coffee in the morning. That'll wake me up."

She watches him expectantly as he wraps his lips around the straw and sips it. The sparkling taste throws him off at first, making her grin. 

"Wow," he says, clearing his throat. "That, uh... It's something."

It's a really odd, fizzy coffee drink but the look on her face is so worth it. "Do you like it?" 

He takes another sip and purses his lips together. After a while, it grows on him. "It's fine."

She laughs and for a moment he forgets where they are.

In front of all his employees.

He clears his throat and lowers down his coffee. “Want to come into my office?”

“I’d love to but I actually have somewhere to be,” she says. “I just stopped by to get everyone their coffee and say hi.”

“Where are you going?”

She shrugs but her cheeks have now turned pink.

Oh.

He forces a smile and takes another sip of the drink. “Talking stage guy?” 

“Ooh, Talking Stage Guy?” Finn interjects, earning a glare from Ben. “Sorry, boss. Gonna get back to my work now.” 

“I think it’s going somewhere now,” she says, averting his gaze and tucking her hair behind her ear. “I don’t know. But um… yeah, Talking Stage has now turned into a third date?”

“And what stage is that?” he asks, unable to help himself.

She smiles at him. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now, I have to get going.” Then she leans toward him and stands on her tiptoe (even in heels) to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, Ben. Good luck with the show.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles, feeling the touch of her lips linger on his cheek as he watches her walk away.