"That's him now," I whisper-hissed, pointing towards the front door. "Please be nice."

Not bothering to hide his reluctance, my father took his time opening the door, pausing to check the time on his watch in the process.

"Dad!"

"I'm getting to it, Molly-Sue."

"Well, get there faster. Please."

"For what it's worth, I really don't think this is a good –"

"Dad!"

"Fine, fine."

When the door finally opened inwards, and I was faced with my childhood best friend standing on my doorstep, in a tuxedo no less, the air left my lungs in an audible whoosh.

"Mr. Peterson." Daryl's attention shifted to me and his entire posture changed. "Holy fu…" Nostrils flaring, his eyes burned with heat and affection. "Hey, Molls." He cleared his throat and tugged at his bowtie. "You look beautiful."

"Hey, D." Whatever nerves I had managed to wrangle in went haywire the second he put his eyes on me. "Thanks. So, do you."

His biceps and broad chest looked incredible in the crisp white shirt he was wearing. He was minus a jacket which only meant that his muscular physique was emphasized even further by the vest sewn to his big body. Disturbingly, I had a brief moment where I contemplated what it would feel to be pressed beneath that big body again.

Over and over again…

Down girl!

"Daryl," my father acknowledged with a weary sigh, dragging me from my thoughts, as he closed the door behind him. "You've come back."

"Yes, sir," Daryl confirmed, jaw ticking, stepping around my father and moving straight for me. "I have."

Silence enveloped the room as both men stared at each other.

"Where's your head at tonight, son?" my father broke the silence by asking.

"It's on straight, sir."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Let's hope so." My father nodded stiffly. There wasn't any severe tension emanating from my father, just a mixture of sadness and defeat. "For my daughter's sake."

"Huh?" I frowned, confused by their interaction. "What are y'all talking about?"

"Nothing," they both said in unison, as Daryl slipped a white rose corsage onto my wrist. "We should get going."

"Okay."

"Well, be safe, Jack and Diane."

"Who?" we asked in unison.

"I was referencing a John Mellencamp song…" My father began to explain, shaking his head. "Oh, never mind. I can see my attempt at humor has been wasted on millennials."

"Generation Z," Daryl said flatly, moving for the door.

"Yeah," I agreed, following him outside. "We're Gen Z's, Dad."

"Worse again," Dad muttered, waving us off.

"Daryl," my father called out when we reached the truck. "Protect my daughter."

Holding the passenger door open for me, Daryl nodded stiffly. "Yes, sir."

21 Daryl

"What was that about?" Molly asked when we were both inside my truck, on the way to the country club hotel that was hosting the dance.

She looked fucking amazing in the lacy white dress she had on, and if it hadn't been for that horrible interaction with her father back at the house, I would have been in a better mental place to appreciate just how beautiful my date was.