Chapter 2

Dan

Fuck, she was intimidating. I’m almost glad I’m back home. Almost.

As I sat on the bench earlier and watched her stride away, I was left wondering what the hell had just happened. She’s a force of nature, unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, she’s open, honest, ballsy. I mean, who else would offer up the age they started masturbating to someone they’d only just met and not even bat an eyelid? She’s got no filter. It’s quite refreshing.

Just getting a text from her in the first place was enough to send me into a spin. We’d never spoken before, but there she was introducing herself, apologising for messaging out of the blue, and saying we needed to talk about our girls.

To be fair, she’s not the first to drop me a message. Single mums have been inundating me with messages since I joined the class group chat. Cass finds it hilarious, tells me she’s heard some of them calling me the ‘hot dad’ and the ‘sexy mechanic’. The garage has seen an influx of new customers recently, but I doubt it’s anything to do with my greasy, sweaty self. I’m just me – a fucking mess most of the time.

And Ivy? She’s the cool mum, the one everyone’s kids love. She’s also the one the other parents gossip about. The first day I volunteered at the school garden, that bossy PTA woman who’s always flapping her clipboard even pointed her out. Her and her simpering band of followers had a lot to say, basically told me I should watch out for her, that she’s a little ‘out there’ and I’d do best to avoid her.

Of course, that only made me more curious.

As the day had gone on, she’d been the only person not to talk to me, had kept herself to herself, didn’t really interact, just got on with her work. I’d caught her eye once, or been caught staring more like. I’d given her a nod, a small smile, and although she’d returned it, I didn’t have the balls to go talk to her. Especially with the attention of that Claire woman on me.

Having now sat opposite Ivy, talked to her, there’s nothing strange about her. She’s just very much her own person. The subject matter was kind of awkward, and yes, she riled me up a little with her attitude, but that was more me being sensitive to the fact my daughter was having sex and feeling annoyed at myself for not being instantly as cool about it as she was.

Looking down at her when she was against that window, I couldn’t help but get lost in those eyes. So expressive, so deep, green ringed in gold, and the longest lashes. From her reaction, I think me being so close may have freaked her out a little, though. It freaked me out too, as did the instant semi I was willing down from the moment that skateboarding gremlin pushed her into me.

When she’d gone so quiet, so still, when I’d lifted her chin, it had taken everything I had not to push those curls from her face and kiss her. An urge that surprised me with its ferocity considering I was simply checking she was okay. I know nothing about her, yet it felt so natural to be that close.

The problem is she somehow sees right through my defences, and just one question from her and I’d spilled everything. I’ve never opened up like that. I was powerless. If I believed in magic, I’d think she cast some kind of spell, or at least possessed some kind of next-level mind control powers.

Learning she’s been through a similar experience to me, showing me her own vulnerable side, it just made this connection stronger. I got the feeling she doesn’t talk about her ex much either though, the somewhat emotionless way she recounted what had happened hinted at a closing down of her heart. And I get that, I do. I’ve no need for those kinds of entanglements now either. Not after Anastasia.

But why then do I find myself remembering how Ivy’s nose crinkles when she laughs, how her eyes sparkle when she’s poking fun at me?

It’s also hard not to grin like a Cheshire cat every time my phone pings with a message from her right now. It’s only been a matter of hours since we met, but we’ve already got a message chain longer than I have with anyone else in my entire contact list. Yes, it’s mainly about the girls, about what she said to them when she went home after convincing me to not go charging round to her house. About the questions she asked, how she talked to them calmly and rationally. But there’s also the moments of randomness, like two old friends chatting.

“You talking to a girl?” Cass asks as she sits on the opposite sofa, legs folded up beneath her, textbook balanced on her knee.

I hastily place my phone face down on the sofa. “Huh? No!”

“Real convincing dad. Wanna try that again?”

Cass is a sassy little thing, always has been. All sarcasm and wit, never in a bad way though, more like it’s just part of her personality to tease. And that she does. Secretly, I kind of love it. It means she’s still her, that her mother abandoning her hasn’t taken that away, hasn’t dulled the essence of who she is.

“I could always just wait until you fall asleep on the sofa like an old man and snoop through your phone.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Oh, you could, could you? Maybe I’ve changed the passcode.”

“Please, your code has been my birthday for as long as I can remember. You’re so predictable. You might as well just tell me who she is, I’ll find out eventually anyway.”

“Firstly, she’s a woman, not a girl. And secondly, from what I heard today, it seems my own little girl has grown into a woman too.”

My heart is pounding as I start this line of conversation. She could shut me down, probably will. She’s bright and bubbly, but she’s still a teenage girl who doesn’t talk to her dad about anything anymore. But I want her to. She doesn’t have a mother to go to, I want to be someone she can come to about anything.

“Oh crap, we’re gonna do this? Really?”

I see the blush colour her cheeks, the way she dips her head so her long dark hair falls in a curtain across her face. She’s closing down.

“Yeah Cass, we are. You want to talk to me about anything?”

She shakes her head, and I don’t know what to do, how to get her to open up. I don’t want her to feel awkward about this, it’s not what I’m trying to do here.

“Cassie, please.”

There’s silence for a while, her picking at the skin around her thumbnail, me desperately wishing I knew what to say. Ivy would know what to say. The teen whisperer extraordinaire. Hold on, maybe… When I opened up to Ivy earlier, she did the same. Maybe, just maybe.

“Fallon’s mum. That’s who’s been messaging.”

Cass looks up, not directly at me, there’s no eye contact, but she stares at the phone I’ve now picked up again.

“About me?”

“About you and Fallon, about today. And about other things.”

There’s a brief twitch to the corner of her mouth. “You wanna tell me about these other things?” she asks, that teasing tone creeping back in.

“I’ll do you a deal, I’ll tell you one thing we’ve talked about other than you for every one thing you tell me.”

She weighs up her options, curiosity fighting teen angst and pride.

“I’ve a counter-offer,” she grins, her eyes finding mine for the first time in this conversation. “I’ll play, but you have to go first.”

It could be a trap, she’s smart, knows if I agree she can get at least one thing from me before reneging on the deal. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

“Okay, deal. We talked about the café we went to earlier. She thanked me for the coffee I bought her.”

“So, it was kind of like a date?”

I laugh at her hopefulness. She’s been encouraging me to date for a couple of years now, to the point I’ve wondered whether it’s because she thinks me having someone else in my life will mean I won’t interfere in hers, or whether she’s just trying to get me ready for when she goes off to university one day, trying to find me someone to replace her as my main source of company.

“No, not like a date. It was two parents meeting up to talk about their kids.”

“Two single parents.” She grins.

“You’re incorrigible, Cass. Your turn.”

There’s silence for so long, head dipped again, that I really think she might be going back on the deal. Eventually though there’s a deep, shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

And now lip biting, and the picking at her skin again.

“Why?” I ask. And then I see a tear slip down her cheek. “Hey, don’t cry, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”

“Ivy said you feel like I don’t talk to you since mum left. I’m sorry.”

A flicker of anger ignites in my chest. “That wasn’t her place to say.”

“Yeah, but dad, you didn’t say. You didn’t tell me you felt that way.”

It’s true, I didn’t. “I know. And maybe I should have, but you’ve kind of withdrawn since…”

“You can say it, you know. Since mum left.”

“Yeah, since mum left.”

She gets up and comes over, sits herself down next to me and cuddles into my chest. “I didn’t mean to, it’s just … you’re a guy and … I don’t know … I feel…”

“Cass, I get it, it’s more normal for a girl to go to her mum about things, especially things like relationships and … sex. But I’d listen, and I’d understand, be there for whatever you need. You’re my little girl, I’m always here for you.”

“I know. And I’m sorry that Ivy outed me to you. She was mortified when she got home, apologised a million times. She thought you knew. And … I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”

“Cass, you kind of told me when you were eight. Plus, there have been signs.”

“I did? Huh, guess I had myself figured out earlier than even I knew. I did actually work up the courage to tell you. In fact, I did, last April, back at our old house.”

I’m wracking my brain trying to remember the conversation, wondering how I could have forgotten such an important moment.

“Dad, stop it,” she laughs. “You’re doing that thing where you think so hard you look like you’re trying to strain a poo out. You won’t remember. It was that night I woke up having a nightmare and you asked me what would make it better. I said—”

“A chocolate milkshake from Mindy’s,” I finish for her.

“Yeah, that’s the night. It was gone eleven, but you still took me out, said it was okay because it was a Friday and I didn’t have school in the morning. All the pavements were covered in fallen cherry blossoms and I said the moonlight made them look more white than pink, like the streets were covered in snow.”

“It really did. That was a nice night, I liked spending that time with you.”

I still do, and the time is probably coming when she won’t want to hang out with me anymore.

“I liked it too. When we got back, you let me eat cookies on the sofa and watch telly for a bit. I started talking, waffled for a bit, tried to get out what I wanted to say until eventually, I just blurted out that I think I might be into girls.”

I remember the night, remember waking in the armchair at 3am and covering her with a blanket, and then I realise what happened.

“I fell asleep, didn’t I?”

She smiles with a slow nod of her head. “You did. But it’s fine, you’d been working so much, had been so miserable, but that night when we were out you were laughing and messing around, it was like I had my dad back.”

The fact she feels like she’s lost me, the very same feelings I’m having about her, it kills me, because I know how it feels. I guess I have been different since Ana left, but then, I imagine that’s normal. But maybe it doesn’t have to be permanent, maybe I can do better, be the dad she needs. Apparently, the one I once was.

“I think that was a lot, your turn again,” she says, blush fading.

Okay, she’s eased into this, has relaxed, we can do this. “Fair enough. Ivy asked if we had any plans over Easter, whether we usually do anything together.”

She sits up in her seat. “You realise she was asking you out, right?”

She wasn’t. Was she? No. Of course she wasn’t. I’d have picked up on that. Wouldn’t I? And she’d have been more direct, for sure. Plus, she seems as broken as I am. Ivy Meadows was definitely not asking me out. My thoughts must show on my face because Cass erupts into laughter.

“Behave yourself,” I chuckle.

“Well, she asked me if I wanted to go into town with them next week, do a few things over Easter with them. You could come too.”

“You can stop trying to set me up with your girlfriend’s mum right now, Cass,” I warn.

“She’s so pretty, though. And, dad, no, me and Fallon are just friends. She’s still figuring out who she is. If we were dating, there’s no way I’d be trying to set you up with her mum. That would be … ewww.”

Okay, my baby had a one-night stand, or a one-day stand, a midday stand, I don’t know. And then Ivy’s words come back to me. ‘Maybe they’re just better friends than we thought. The kind that come with certain benefits’. Fuck, my teenage daughter not only has a sex life, but is already keeping her options open. What if she makes a lot of friends here? How will I know which ones are … special? Will I want to know?

“Cass, you do know about safe sex and all that, right? I mean, I’d like to think you’re being sensible.”

“It’s not like I’m going to get pregnant.”

I see the stifled laugh, the shifty look to the left.

“Ivy told you to say that, didn’t she?”

She giggles, unable to control it anymore. “Actually, she told me not to say it, said it might tip you over the edge. Though she was laughing when she said it.”

That bloody woman. She may well look like an angel, but she’s definitely got a devilish streak. I saw that earlier with her humour too. Her somewhat badly timed sense of humour.

“And what else did she talk to you about?”

It comes out with a bit of an edge, and I see Cass give me a look. Ivy told me in her messages that Cass had been quite embarrassed, seemed to shrink into herself when she’d sat her and Fallon down to talk. She’d told them I knew, that it was only fair I knew my daughter was sexually active, but that it wasn’t anything to be embarrassed or ashamed of. She also said to be gentle when I talked to her about it all. It sounds like maybe there was more discussed than that, though.

“Don’t be mad at Ivy, dad. She’s really great. She just talked to us about things, and yes, she talked about safe sex and respecting our bodies. I am sixteen though, I kinda know all this, and Ivy said I can talk to her about things if I want.”

I resist the urge to snap that I want her to talk to me, because honestly, I really would rather she talk to someone she trusts and feels comfortable with than to nobody at all. And if that person is Ivy, I guess that’s okay. It’s my fault we’re here, after all. I’m the one who couldn’t stay living in the same town a moment longer, knowing it had once been where I’d built a life, a family. I’m the one who dragged Cass down the country and into London. Away from everything and everyone she’s ever known. Her friends, our family. She could really hate me if she wanted.

“Do you like it here?” I ask, guilt flooding me.

She nods but says nothing.

“Cass, you can be honest.”

“It’s different. I miss our old life, but I know why you brought us here, that we needed a fresh start. I like our new house, and school is good. Fallon and me are besties already. I love her to bits. She’s probably a better friend than any I had back home, anyway.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” I mutter.

“I heard that! We really are just friends. Look, we saw something online and one thing led to another, and we ended up trying it out. It’s not a big deal, promise.”

They saw something online? Hold up, I forgot about that bit. I can’t not ask about that.

“You’re watching porn now, too?”

“Like you don’t watch it,” Cass counters, annoyingly rational.

Fuck, how did this conversation end up here?

“I … I … We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you, my sixteen-year-old daughter.”

That didn’t come out as calm as I wanted it to, that edge creeping back in again.

“Dad, it’s fine if you do. Ivy said it’s perfectly normal to be curious, to watch something that excites you, that even she watches it.”

There’s not really much I can say after that, and when my phone pings with yet another message from Ivy, Cass simply grins at me, kisses me on the cheek and dances out of the room, humming the wedding march. Bloody idiot child.

I spend the rest of the evening trying to concentrate on random TV shows, hoping they’ll take my mind off a certain brunette that I really shouldn’t be thinking about. I force myself to not immediately answer her messages, or to check my phone every ten seconds to see if she’s replied. What’s wrong with me?

It’s as I lay in bed later, though, that the problems really start. All I can think about is Ivy watching porn. I wonder what does it for her, what makes her reach between her legs and touch herself. Before I know it, I’m imagining her watching a couple going at it, but it’s not the couple I’m concentrating on, it’s her, fingers moving over her slick heat, gentle moans, back arching off the bed as she climaxes right along with the couple on screen. Fuck, the thought is so hot. I’m not even sure when I started doing it, but I realise my own hand is wrapped tightly around my cock and pumping furiously. I may watch porn, but I’m certainly not going to need any tonight.