Chapter Text
Y/N’s phone buzzes on her nightstand early in the morning. It’s a Saturday, which means no work. Plus it’s also her birthday, the day she has been looking forward to for months on end because it means that Max, her boyfriend, is going to fly into Chicago from L.A. Now, she’s anxiously looking forward to his text informing her that he’s boarded the plane.
Max and her, it has been a whirlwind romance. They met in a bar two years ago just after she graduated. She was vulnerable since her mother had just been diagnosed with cancer, and Max —, well, he was there, an easy distraction from her real problems. But three months into their new relationship, he announced that he was leaving for L.A. in order to follow his dreams. Y/N understood. Max always craved more, always desired to rub shoulders with A-listers, and he wanted to become someone people fawned over in the industry. But as things go, everyone has to start at the bottom and so did her boyfriend. He took on a job at his distant cousin’s company who’s a producer of some sort. She never really asked, and also Max never really disclosed it since he thinks she wouldn’t get his film jargon anyway. The weird thing is that he never asked her to join him, she knew that if he had, she would have gone – in a heartbeat. But since he never put forth the notion, she was too proud to beg.
The two of them agreed to do the long distance thing in the end. It didn’t take a lot of convincing on her part, because as she said, Max is easy to be with, he makes her forget her problems and that should count as something . Plus, it’s only a five hour flight, which is doable. They skyped a lot at the beginning but it has gotten less and less since he’s so wrapped up in work, hence why she was looking forward to seeing him again; it had been over seven months since she had seen him last.
Hearing a vibration sound in the room, she grins as she moves over to her night stand to grab the device that made it.
Looking at the screen, she notices several text messages that she’s missed during the night. Some are from work friends — which, when she thinks about it, is totally pathetic, because apparently, she doesn’t really have real friends anymore apart from Max. The ones from work went out for drinks but she didn’t join them since she worked late last night, and the only thing she was capable of doing once she got home, was tearing her clothes from her body before falling into bed.
The text that buzzed her out of her sleep isn’t from Max, nor is it from one of her colleagues, but from her dad. The very Scott Price, head of Price & Price Law . The firm she is working at after graduating from law school, a firm her dad has high hopes for that she will one day take over. The other Price on the firm’s name is her uncle who’s childless, so the future is already set in stone for her. Maybe that’s why she’s working her ass off. Because even though she knows she is privileged, she doesn’t want to give the impression that everything comes easy for her. Her late mother didn’t raise her that way, always telling her to work hard and be proud of what she’s achieved. Sure, the position was given to her, but the position doesn’t come with success and she’s working really hard to gain it.
[Dad] Happy Birthday sweetheart! Look out of your bedroom window.
[Dad] Don’t forget your Birthday dinner at the house. Be there by 6. Love, Dad.
She scrambles out of bed, wondering what her father means by ‘look out of your bedroom window’ . Stumbling across the space, with her hair in disarray and her sleep shirt riding down her shoulder, she spots the thing he’s been talking about. Her lips part as her mouth stands agape, but it’s not in a good way. A brand new white Lexus LC with a big ass bow on its hood is standing in the parking lot of her condo building.
“Oh, no,” she grits out. She absolutely hates being spoiled like this but it has always been her dad’s way of purchasing her love. He’s working too much to know that sometimes, money can’t buy happiness. She has only just gotten used to the last sports car she had, which coincidentally, was her birthday present from him last year. But in true Scott Price fashion, he had arranged for that one to be taken away, and replaced with something much shinier. She hated it.
Y/N doesn’t even feel excited about it, and maybe that’s being spoiled on her part, but she’d rather, you know, just spend a day with her dad where they would go fishing, or maybe go to their cabin in the Colorado mountains. Just — things they did as a family when her mother was still alive and well. It has been a little over two years since she was diagnosed with cancer; only seven months since she succumbed to her illness. Since then, her father worked even more, causing the two of them to inevitably drift apart. She rarely goes home because her dad is not there that often anyway, and they rarely have anything to talk about except work-related things. She doesn’t need to go home for that, when she can just bring up any issues in the office.
Perhaps she should send out a reply to his text, thanking him for his generosity, but honestly, she already feels dread pooling in her stomach thinking about going to the house that held too many memories tonight. So she puts that off, thinking she can thank him in person once she’s there.
Crawling back into bed, she pulls the comforter over herself and tries to settle in again, even though she is now waiting for the inevitable knock on her front door from the concierge, with the key to her new ride. As she attempts to relax, wanting to enjoy her own birthday morning as best she could, her phone buzzes once more. This time it’s Max. Without looking at the text preview she swipes her thumb over the screen.
[Max] Sorry, can’t make it today. There’s a networking party Dick wants me to attend. I’ll see you in three weeks? Happy birthday, babe!
Her mouth gets dry and there are tears pricking at her eyes. No, she won’t cry. She won’t cry because the only person in her life she was looking forward to seeing today isn’t going to be able to make it. But her heart does feel heavy in her chest. Y/N wonders if Max is even still interested in her.
Swallowing down her disappointment, she texts him back.
[Y/N] Not going to lie, I’m sad but you gotta do what you gotta do. See you in three weeks!
After hitting send, she places her phone back on the nightstand and ponders about how much self-wallowing she is allowed to do on her own birthday.
*
“Hello? Dad?”
Y/N lets herself inside the house since nobody came to open the door when she rang the bell. Usually, there’s at least one maid on duty, but apparently, they are busy somewhere else around the home. Well, she is early. It’s only five but she figures she’s allowed to visit her father earlier than the appointed time. It’s her dad for fuck’s sake. She doesn’t have to check his schedule with his PA whenever she needs him to act like one.
Her heels click on the marble floor, the sound echoing off the walls as she makes her way through the entrance of the pompous mansion in search of her father. She hates to dress up other than for work, but she knows the etiquette of turning up to any dinner at the house. For that, she has to go all out, hence the too tight dress and high heels.
“Dad?” Her voice gets lost in the large living room space when she passes it.
Nothing indicates that someone’s here. However, she hears clatter and chatter coming out of the kitchen. She can only assume that the chef is preparing their dinner and she’s sure that she won’t find her father there because she doesn’t even think that man has set one foot into the kitchen in his life.
Y/N’s sure that he’s probably holed up in his study. It’s the only room in the house he’s spending so much time in, and it doesn’t even matter if it’s the weekend or not. That’s the kind of a workaholic he is. She remembers the time that her mother was so fed up with him being in there all the time that she changed the locks to the door, and only after two weeks of indulging in family life did she give him his access back. He had changed after that, but went right back to his old habits as soon as mom had passed.
When she rounds up the corner to reach his study, she can hear faint muffled noises in the hallway. It’s definitely her dad but the other female voice is unfamiliar to her. It sounds like they’re talking… until a faint moan penetrates her ears, causing her to freeze in her motions.
Oh, god.
Trying to approach as quietly as possible, she stands in front of the closed door, and from here, yep , she can confirm that those are definitely moans.
There’s the fight or flight feeling in her gut but she decides to tackle this head on. Lifting her hand, she knocks, but she doesn’t wait. Instead, she turns the knob and barges right in.
Oh, her father’s in here alright. And he’s deep inside someone she doesn’t know but recognizes. His slacks are open and pulled down, but — thankfully — still covering his ass. The woman is bent over his dark mahogany desk, her dress skirt hiked up, the fabric bunching around her waist.
Y/N can’t cover her eyes fast enough and she thinks she needs bleach to erase the memories from her mind, “Jesus, Dad!”
“Christ, Y/N! Can’t you knock?” He shouts out, a little breathless and she can’t see because of her hand but she can hear him securing his belt. Thank god.
“I did!”
There’s shuffling of bodies and ruffling of clothes, and an agonizingly long wait until her father speaks again. “You may look now.”
“I don’t know if I want to,” she mumbles.
“Y/N.” Her father’s voice booms from a couple of feet away, stern.
“Fine,” she mutters under her breath, blinking as she looks at both of the figures standing in the room, her dad’s arm wound possessively around the woman’s waist.
“Uh, yeah,” Scott clears his throat, “I guess we don’t have to wait until the dinner for the introduction. This is Lily Sanders, you might know her.”
Oh.
Ooooh.
Now she remembers. Lily was in her class! She’s her fucking age — at least she thought she was, she can only hope to god that the girl is not younger .
“Dad, a word?” she croaks out after she’s able to push a sound past her lips.
Her father frowns at her with a bit of awkward hostility. He clears his throat again — a fucking bad habit of his, “There’s nothing you can’t say in front of her. Lily is my girlfriend, Y/N. Play nice.”
She laughs, loud and humorless. “Oh my god, I can’t believe it!”
“Are you done?”
“Dad, she’s my age!”
“You can’t control who you’re falling in love with, Y/N,” he argues back, making a point to whoever’s willing to listen. Clearly not her.
“Mom has only been buried for seven fucking months and you’re already out looking for love ? Jesus, didn’t you know that Lily was the class whore? She would sleep with every fucking professor to get her credit!”
“Y/N, watch your mouth!” The man grits his teeth.
“I — I’m, fuck — ” she clutches her stomach, suddenly feeling very nauseous. Sighing out shakily, she adds, “ Yo— y ou never loved mom, did you?”
Her dad swallows, his voice gets somber when he speaks. “Sweetheart, I loved your mother very much but life does go on. Lily does make me happy.”
“Yeah, until she gets what she wants, and then she’ll leave you.”
“Honey, are you going to let her talk to me like this?” The other woman whines, and honestly, if her dad wasn’t standing right between them, Y/N’s sure that she would punch her in the face. She’s not a violent person but that woman is clearly testing her patience.
“I can talk to you as I please!” she spits, and then she turns to her dad. “Fine! Live your life and I’ll live mine. I’m taking a break from the firm, and if you want, I’ll even resign. I just have to get away from here.”
She turns around before her dad can stop her. However, he follows her through the mansion, hurried footsteps echoing down the hallway. When she reaches the front door, her father’s voice shakes when he speaks. “If you walk out of that door right now, we’re done.”
Turning to look back, a tear spills down her cheek. “Fine.”
She slams the door behind her, taking a brief moment to inhale a shaky breath. It’s not like they’ve never fought before, it’s also not the messiest fight they’ve ever had. She knows they’ll eventually patch things up. But for now, she really needs to get away because she feels like she’s losing everyone around her and something inside of her just can’t take it.
On her way over to her apartment, Y/N dials Max but the call goes straight to voicemail. She tries twice more but with no luck. Angrily, she tosses the phone onto the passenger seat of her new Lexus, the anger from this over eccentric present adding fuel to the fire, before wiping at her tear-streaked cheeks with the back of her hand. She sniffs and takes a couple of deep breaths as she concentrates on the road with blurry eyes.
Once inside her apartment, she changes into some jean shorts and a tank top, throws on her sneakers, and pulls several bags out of her closet. Hastily, she tosses things inside she thinks she’ll need for an extended getaway to L.A.
Y/N takes her time to unplug all her electrics, she also packs enough snacks with her to keep her going for a fortnight. When she’s inside her car, she sends Max a text.
[Y/N] Hope you don’t mind if I visit you sooner than three weeks? Lmk
As soon as her thumb hits send, she leaves for the open road. Honestly, she doesn’t really know what her boyfriend will say, doesn’t know if he’ll be okay with her showing up because he’s always so busy. Either way, she can’t stay here, and well, she doesn’t have a back up plan for if he says no. But she still has some money in her bank she could book an Airbnb with if necessary, and she could explore L.A. until he has time for her. It’s no big deal.
Dean rounds up the corner to his apartment building on his motorcycle, feeling clammy and sticky, not to mention greasy, from the day’s work. He had a shift at the bar on Rodeo Dr in the morning and then went into the auto shop he’s jobbing in the afternoon. At least the bar gig pays better than the strip club he works in the evening, even though the cougars who meet for brunch are more than predatory, downright ogling him while he makes them their Bloody Mary’s and Mimosa’s. At least they tip well.
The owner has asked him to take up more shifts because the patrons liked him, to which Dean said he’s going to have to look over his numbers to see if he can afford to ditch the nightclub gig, because honestly, that one isn’t fun at all and the pay is miserable. He almost agrees immediately until he remembers that he can’t. At least not now. He still has to hold out for a couple of weeks since Charlie, who’s working with him at the club to support herself while doing her Master’s, will quit too and he would hate to leave her to fend for herself there for her remaining time.
In the parking lot, he sees his Baby, abandoned and gathering dust because he’s still waiting for a part to be delivered so he can fix her up. It’s been too long but the shop still couldn’t get their hands on the part that he needs, that’s why he has to make do with this motorcycle he got for just a couple hundred bucks. At least he has something to drive around on because sometimes it’s essential for him to be able to race from one corner of L.A. to the next to fit in auditioning and working into his schedule.
The first thing Dean notices next to his abandoned Baby, is the dirty, yet still very white Lexus parked in the lot. It’s not every day you see a new car here since it’s not really the nicest neighborhood. But it’s the only decent one Dean can afford an apartment in. His first guess is probably a girlfriend or a wife of a dealer doing shady things with one of the residents, which wouldn’t be the first time either. There had been a lot of yelling a couple of weeks back when a dealer found out his girl was banging someone else from a rival gang.
He pays it no mind other than being a bit surprised, but his head is swimming in work and reciting his lines for his audition in a couple of days anyway when he parks his motorcycle.
Dean gets off of it and removes his helmet, the breeze cooling off his head a little bit now that he’s not driving, the heat seeping into every pore of his body.
Walking up the steps with his key jingling around a finger, and his helmet in the other hand, he arrives at his level, and immediately, he notices the figure sitting on the floor in the hallway between the door to his apartment and the one of Max, a newer tenant whom Dean occasionally bumps into at parties and outings. They’re not really friends, he’s not really even friendly with him, thinks Max is full of shit, but hey, what does he know?
The figure turns out to be a girl, back propped up and head resting against the wall while her eyes are closed. Her chest heaves as she takes deep breaths, it looks to him like she’s sleeping.
She’s wearing a tight white tank top, one of the straps falling down her shoulder and Dean can definitely see the pink of her underwear strap. The bra is also visible under the sheer white fabric, and god, those fucking legs stretched out long and are very, very tempting. He can already imagine them wrapped around his waist. Her lips are slightly parted as she breathes through her mouth. She’s naturally beautiful with no trace of makeup on her face. He can imagine that she has the most beautiful eyes, and he would definitely want to see her smile.
Fuck. Get a fucking grip, Dean!
He shakes his head. Trying to at least get the indecent images out of his mind. It has been a couple of days since he got laid last, and apparently, it is showing.
For a moment, he entertains the thought of making a move on the girl outside of his apartment, but that thought gets crushed when she opens her eyes and immediately scowls at him. Well, she is beautiful when her eyes are open, he has to give her that, but that expression is definitely a turn-off.
Nonetheless, with all the air of hostility around her, he still opens his mouth to ask her if he could help, but Dean isn’t even able to push the words from his tongue as she already speaks up.
“I have a boyfriend,” the girl blurts out, unprompted, and there’s a little hiss to her voice.
She pulls her knees to her chest and hugs herself around her legs as she looks at him, her gaze razor sharp, and she definitely could kill someone with just one look. Dean is somehow simultaneously turned on and scared all at the same time. Still, he pulls back, his forehead wrinkling as he blinks.
“Uh,” he pushes out, somewhat irritated, “Congratulations?”
Jesus , forget being attracted to her, she is already grinding his gears. Dean rushes past her to get to his door, and while he’s mad about her thinking all he can do is hit on women, Dean fumbles with his keys, dropping them clumsily and probably making a fool out of himself right here in front of this annoying girl. He picks them up, careful not to look in her direction, fearing that he’ll see her glare — or worse, her making fun of him. When he’s upright again and finally gets the door to his apartment open, he storms in, and slams the wood shut.