beneath the surface, part one - joel miller
pairing: joel miller x reader word count: chapter 1: 4k - 118k total warnings: EXPLICIT; 18+. alcohol abuse, violence, and abuse. author's note: hiiii 🤍 all 24 chapters are currently out on ao3 here, or 'beneath the surface' by ficsbyava! i will be working on uploading them all on here as well :) hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!
“Hey,” your dad approaches you from behind. “I didn’t know you were out here.” He offers you an awkward smile, presumably to try and calm the waters after your fight from last night.
“Yeah. Why? Do you need me to move?” you ask. You take a sip of your iced tea and pull your sunglasses down your nose to look up at him better. He still looks rough from last night, unsurprisingly.
It was your time tanning this summer, so you really hoped his answer was no. You probably wouldn’t have moved even if he said yes, to be honest. You had your chair, towel, drink, and book perfectly situated, and you had only been laying out for thirty minutes so far. The sun was warming you from the outside.
“No. You’re fine. We’re just going to do some work on the dock out here.”
Your eyebrow raises, “We?”
“Yeah, Joel is comin’ over to help out.”
Your heart instinctively drops an entire foot lower in your body upon hearing his name for the first time in so long, which irritates you. You can’t exactly put a finger on how old you were when Joel became a regular at your house, but you do remember when you started realizing how insanely and annoyingly attracted to him you were.
To be specific, it was last summer, when your dad’s drinking had first started to get out of hand. You were lonely, bored. Joel had come over with Ellie one particularly sticky August day, and you all ended up on your boat. Unsurprisingly, he ended up having to drive early on in the day, as your dad got too drunk to drive. You had accidentally caught yourself staring at his arm, the way the sweat made his skin glisten and his muscle popped out as he gripped the steering wheel.
Joel is perfectly tall with strong arms, broad shoulders, big, calloused hands, messy salt and pepper hair, and the sexiest facial hair, which is apparently your weakness. There was absolutely no reason for you, in your prime age of twenty three, to be pining over a forty five year old man, so you’ve always chosen to ignore it.
“Oh.” You flatly reply to your dad, trying to hide any emotion lurking into your tone.
You’ve always just hoped that eventually he would get married, you would be in a long term relationship, and he would just become a silly infatuation born out of boredom and immaturity. However, the older you get, you realize the chances of that get slimmer and slimmer by the day. You pray that something will happen this summer to change it.
Soon enough, you hear the loud rumble of a truck engine pulling into your driveway. You watch him out of the corner of your eye walk into the backyard. You’d forgotten how big of a guy he truly is. His shoulders pulled and stretched the fabric of this casual button-up shirt. You have to force yourself to pry your eyes off of his sun-blocked silhouette from behind your sunglasses.
As he gets closer, you can’t help but smile a little. “Hey,” you call out. Heat from making the bold move of speaking to him first rushes into your cheeks. You mentally scold yourself, feeling like a freshman with a crush on a senior again. You silently pray he wouldn’t be here long. You don’t know how long you can keep this up for.
“Hey.” he grunts back, not offering any chance of a conversation. His voice was deeper than you remember, with the smoothest southern drawl. It was enough to give you chills on an eighty degree day.
“What, you’re not going to ask me anything about my last year of college?” You tease, mustering up the courage to speak to him again.
He takes his first good look at you in a year. He definitely did not notice the way your curves filled out your bikini, or the way the sun looked beaming through your hair. He stops those thoughts from going any further quickly. Your hair is in an updo to keep it out of your face from the wind. Obviously, he’s not blind- you look fucking amazing, but he would never admit that, even in his own mind.
He mumbles, briefly pausing in front of your lawn chair, “Yeah yeah. How was it?”
“Fun,” you reply, lifting your sunglasses onto your forehead to get a better look at him.
“I’m not ready for it to be over.”
“Right,” he says. “‘Cause what are you gonna do once you can’t go t’the same three bars and get wasted with your friends every day of the week?”
He didn’t say it in a joking way, but you laugh anyway. His shirt clings to his back with sweat, and your mouth goes dry. You snap your book shut and pull your sunglasses down harder over your eyes. Nope. You are not doing this again.
For the next hour or two, your dad and Joel work on fixing your dock, while you tan on the grass in your backyard. Joel gets increasingly annoyed that he keeps finding himself looking over at you, without even meaning to. He decides it’s just a natural reflex to shield his eyes out of the sun that’s beaming from behind him. He decides it’s definitely not something that kept the image of your body in his mind instead of focusing on whatever work drama your dad was going on about.
Around one in the afternoon, you wake up on your lawn chair, slightly toasted, from your mid-day nap in the sun. Your skin is covered in dull creases from your towel pressing into you for so long. You sit up to look around, but everything has a blue tint and is covered in strange spots due to your eyes being burnt to a crisp. After your vision clears, you confirm that Joel and your dad are still on the dock.
“Dad?” you call out. “When will you be finished? I want to make lunch, I’m hungry.”
“Soon,” he replies. “We’re almost done.”
You retreat from the thick and sticky heat, searching for solace in the air conditioned serenity of the indoors. You take a quick shower to wash off any excess tanning oil, then absent mindedly throw on one of your signature tiny tank tops and soft grey shorts.
In a good mood from your newly developed tan line and relaxing day, you head downstairs, grab a seltzer, and go on the deck to start prepping for lunch. The cold condensation from the can drips down your knuckles the second you step outside, reminding you of how hot it is. Shortly after, your dad and Joel join you on the deck, both sweaty and panting from the hard work.
Joel notices you on the deck instantly. Your skin is tanned and smooth, your hair slightly blowing off your shoulders from the wind, and your thighs exposed all the way up to your shorts. His stomach drops slightly.
“Whew, you guys look sweaty. Do you guys need some water or somethin’?” You joke, watching them take their seats at the table.
Your dad shakes his head, pulling out his phone.“Nah, I’m all good, thanks hon.”
You look over to Joel, waiting for his response. He darts his gaze off of you. “No, I’m, uh, fine.”
You shrug, noticing how awkward his reply is, but brushing it off as heat exhaustion.
Joel grills some burgers, and you make a caesar salad that you all start to devour the second they’re ready. Your dad, of course, helped by sitting and drinking beers while yelling at you to hurry up and bring out the plates. In between bites, Joel and your dad mostly just talk about work, since they’re both in construction, and you mainly scroll on social media.
Joel still adds the same condiments to his burger. Mustard and pickles only. You don’t remember why you know that, but you can’t help noticing.
Mid sip of your drink, an Instagram story from Ellie, Joel’s adopted daughter, pops up.
“Oh my god!” you remark. “Ellie is so cute, I miss her so much. Look,” you coo, flipping your phone around to put her smiling face on display.
The post is of Ellie and her girlfriend, Dina, at a concert. Ellie has a huge smile plastered across her face with her arm around Dina. Ellie is one of your best friends, even though she's five years younger than you. When you were both younger, and your dad and Joel still hung out constantly, you two were pretty close. Now, after getting older, you didn’t see each other much, but it didn't matter, you were still just as close. She was just about to graduate high school, just as you had graduated college.
Your dad, already smelling something resembling a distillery, chuckles to himself, “Wow, I haven’t seen Ellie in awhile. She’s clearly turning out a lot better than you, Joel.”
Joel ignores his comment and inspects the photo, furrowing his brow. “When is this picture from?” he asks you, an irritated undertone sneaking into his voice.
You direct your attention back at your phone. “Um, She posted this thirty minutes ago. Why?”
Joel lets out a frustrated sigh and rakes one hand down his face. “Goddamn it,” he mutters, reaching for his own phone.
You raise your eyebrows, taking another bite of your burger and shrugging. “Jesus, what’s your problem? It’s a cute picture.”
Joel looks back up at you, shooting a look so sharp it could draw blood. “Yeah, it would be, if she wasn’t cuttin’ class right now,” he replies, typing in Ellie’s number on his phone.
Shit. You didn’t want her to get busted because of you. “Joel, let her be. She’s literally about to graduate and go to college,” you protest, not wanting Ellie to think you turned into an uncool snitch over the school year.
Joel brings his head up from his phone to meet your eyes, leveling you with a searing glare. “Sorry,” he speaks in an assertive, monotone voice. “Are you her dad?”
You scoff. “Obviously not. If I was, I would be at that concert with her.”
Your dad chimes in, saying your name to warn you, his demeanor serious. “This isn’t any of your business.”
You roll your eyes, reach across the table and softly push Joel’s phone screen down onto the table. “Come on. She’s at a concert. She’s not shooting up black tar heroin. Let the girl live a little, she deserves it.”
Joel’s stare at you hardens as he clenches his jaw. “Just because you did whatever the hell you wanted as a teenager and managed to graduate high school doesn’t mean I want my daughter to follow in your footsteps,” he grits.
Your dad waves his beer in the air as a white flag. “Guys. Everyone calm down.”
You ignore him, jaw slightly dropped in shock at Joel’s sudden insult. “What is that supposed to mean? You have no idea about my life as a teenager, much less about my life now.”
“Okay,” your dad gives up, throwing his hands into the air, still clutching his can. “I’m gonna go get another drink. Don’t kill each other until I’m back to watch,” he calls over his shoulder, going inside.
Joel ignores him and raises his eyebrows in a sarcastic way. “Oh really,” he patronizes you. “You weren’t smoking weed with God knows who, doing fuck all with your life?”
You draw in a sharp breath, shocked at the way he’s talking to you. Of course, you two had bickered about random things that never mattered many times before, but he had never insulted you like this. You were oddly hurt, and you weren’t sure why, because why would you give a shit about what he thought?
You take a deep breath, keeping your tone unwavering and flat as you stand up. “At least I tried to make something of myself, instead of staying stuck in the same place for twenty years pretending you're not bitter about it.” you retort.
Joel puts down his beer can on the table, much angrier and forceful than normal, as he watches you take your plate and go inside.
It’s good to be home.
-
A couple weeks had gone by since your unpleasant debate with Joel at the house. You fought with your dad pretty much constantly and never seemed to care much, but for some reason, you couldn’t shake being bothered by the situation. It didn’t help that Ellie hasn’t responded since you texted her the situation and apologized. You hoped she was just being classic Ellie, never on her phone, and not actually mad.
After the initial heat of anger in your stomach had died down, it was replaced by guilt for saying such things to Joel. Of course, he said some fucked up things too, but you couldn’t ignore the feeling that maybe if you never tried to tell him how to parent, this never would’ve happened. You aren’t sure which is worse- anger or guilt? You decide it’s definitely guilt.
You hadn’t really been up to much lately. You work as a server at the restaurant across from you on the lake once or twice a week, and mostly swim, have a drink on the boat, or tan in your free time, which, granted, is most of the time. It was a nice change of pace from college, where you were constantly with your friends, always out, always partying, never sleeping.
You roll out of bed late, for no particular reason, one specific morning. Your windows are open, which you thought might offer some relief from the thick June air last week, but as it turns out, it only stuffs your room with more unrelenting heat instead. To your dismay, after opening it, you discovered that the crank to close it back up was broken. It’s gone on a week now of sleeping with not even a sheet and taking cold showers.
You walk downstairs to scavenge something for breakfast. Your dad is still passed out on your couch from last night. You roll your eyes, sick of having to parent him for the second summer in a row. You use the pillow next to violently to hit him across the face, jolting him awake.
“Hey,” you say sternly. “If you have an extra fifteen minutes in between wallowing in self pity and drowning your sorrows with Miller Lite, can you fix my window upstairs finally? The heat is rising up there and it feels like I’m drowning in my own sweat.”
Your dad groggily groans, flipping over and groaning into his chosen couch pillow. “Enough with the nagging. I will do it today.”
You ignore him, not willing to waste any extra energy on his shitty attitude. It was pretty much his permanent attitude now, unless he was in his sweet spot of 3-5 beers. He was always a grumpy guy, similar to Joel, but after your mom passed, he never figured out how to cope. Losing someone is excruciating on anyone, including you, but you knew your mom wouldn’t have wanted you to spend your college years depressed and unable to pull yourself out of a hole.
Your dad, on the other hand, didn’t know much of anything afterwards. He completely shut down from the day she was gone onwards, and your hopes of him ever recovering hadn’t crossed your mind in months.
The day was spent like any other, just focused on holding yourself back from succumbing to the heat. Most of it was spent on an inner tube in the lake, as being in your room was too hot, being outside was definitely too hot, and you sure as hell did not want to be on the main floor with your dad.
Finally, around five, you were ready to eat dinner and binge watch your current show until you inevitably fell asleep. You exit the cooling, relaxing oasis of the lake and walk past your dad as quickly as possible to your room upstairs- thankfully, he doesn’t see you. You take your time in your shower, despite the freezing temperature you chose, shaving your legs, using your sugar scrub, and marinating in your favorite hair mask. You settle on a sandwich for dinner, you decide, as you step out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a towel.
Exquisitely clean, and smelling like a vanilla cupcake, you’re looking at your phone as you walk into your room to change. However, you’re stopped in your tracks at the sight of a man, hunched over your window sill. You automatically let out a gasp, realizing this was not your dad.
The man turns around, and of course, just your luck, it’s Joel. His eyes widen and face falls when he sees you standing in the doorway behind him, only wrapped in a towel. He quickly turns his head towards the wall and attempts to walk in the other direction, but trips over his toolbox and bumps his head into the wall.
Your brain goes into fight or flight mode, and regrettably, your body chooses to freeze. “Oh my God!” you say, panicking. Options here are limited. Bathroom or clothes in the dresser? Fuck the clothes, you need to get out of here as fast as possible.
You whirl towards the bathroom- Smack. Doorframe. Great. Now you both look like idiots.
Not knowing whether to seek fortitude in the bathroom in your towel for god knows how long, or to walk past Joel to your dresser, you stand there, mortified and paralyzed.
“Shit,” he says, his brain finally registering the situation and looking back to his toolbox on the ground. “Um.”
It dawns on you that you’re still standing in the doorway, trapping him from leaving too. You join him in looking down, only to find that your towel has slipped precariously lower on your chest. This situation literally could not have gone any worse. You pull it up harnessing the speed of light.
“Sorry! Sorry. Sorry.” You mentally facepalm. “I’ll just, uh, grab my clothes from my dresser real quick,” you stammer, scurrying past him to your dresser, grabbing the first clothes on top.
Joel can’t help but see your smooth, exposed back as you go past him and notice how small your neck is, and how your spine and shoulder blades are just slightly visible when you bend to grab clothes. His face reddening, he turns around to face the corner instead of you, hoping you didn’t see his glance, and preventing you from seeing him blush.
“I’m sorry…” he starts awkwardly. “Your dad didn’t have the right parts. He thought you weren’t home when I got here… I didn’t hear the shower.” He fidgets in the large toolbox in the corner, even though he didn’t need another part.
“It’s fine!” you say in the least calm way possible, running past him into the hallway.
Without another word, you practically sprint into your bathroom again. Once you reach salvation in a private place to change, you realize your heart is pounding. You try and take a few deep breaths to calm down, rationalizing that you weren’t naked- he didn’t see anything.
As you exit the room, Joel releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He rakes his hand through his hair, feeling incredibly uncomfortable that he saw you one step away from being naked. He sighs at the awkwardness of the situation. Although you two were by no means friends, he would never want to make you feel uncomfortable.
For the first time in a very, very long time, he looks around your room while trying to process that whole situation. As if he didn't feel weird enough, now he suddenly felt as though he was violating you, being in your private space. You have a notebook open on your desk, which reads “Nail Appointment - Friday @ 3” in big, loopy, letters in a pink pen. There’s a photo on your nightstand of you, probably around age fifteen, and your mom. He falters for a minute, shocked at seeing you so young. He could barely even recognize you- a completely different person. He feels immense shame for noticing your back and thinking about you in your bikini after reminding himself of who you really are to him. To make his shame worse, on your bed, is a small, white stuffed bunny.
He picks it up, trying to remember where it came from. This only makes it worse. He sets it down like he burned him and looks away.
He feels absolutely disgusted with himself, for forgetting just how he actually knows you. There was something about being in your room that was so intimate. Seeing where you sleep, get ready, live, and grow up makes him see you in an entirely different light.
When you’re no longer only covered by a towel, you debate your options. You can stay in here to avoid him, but he will most definitely realize you’re hiding, which might make it worse. You can go downstairs, where you will have to talk to your dad. Or, you can go back to your room to talk to Joel. None of these options were ideal, but then that same guilt from your words to Joel two weeks ago make themselves known in your stomach again.
“Hey,” you say softly, entering your room slowly.
Joel flinches slightly, turning around to look at you. Your hair is wet and down, framing your face. You have no bra on and are wearing low waisted sweat pants. He can feel himself draw a sharp breath in at the sight of you and prays to God that you didn’t hear it.
“Hey.” he says, clearing his throat. “Don’t worry, I’m almost done,” he mumbles under his breath.
You sit down on your bed across the room, looking at your phone to try and mask the awkwardness looming thick in the air. “It’s fine,” you reply, this time not sounding like you just saw your parents having sex. “Thanks for fixing it.”
“Yeah.” He murmurs, barely audible.
You take a deep breath in, trying to calculate how to form your apology. You think about saying, ‘sorry for what I said,’ but stop when you realize he should be the one saying that to you. He practically called you an idiot. You settle on, ‘sorry I tried to tell you how to parent your daughter,’ but as soon as you open your mouth, he stands up, dropping something into the tool bag.
“Well-” he sighs. “All fixed.” He won’t meet your gaze as he gathers his tools.
“Thanks, Joel,” is all you can get out.
Finally, he turns to meet your eyes. They don’t look angry and hard anymore like they did during your disagreement. You smile softly at him, signaling peace. He nods and heads past your door.
He pauses just outside of your room, blurting out, “Hey,” followed by your name softly.
“Yeah?” you reply, looking over at him.
He opens his mouth to say something. He doesn’t know exactly what, but he feels as though he needs to apologize to you. Although he didn’t understand why, because unlike you, he honestly didn’t feel guilty. He tried to gather his thoughts. Maybe it was seeing such a private area of your life, your bedroom, or being reminded of the fact that you're his lifelong best friend’s daughter.
“If you have any more trouble with the window, I’ll leave my wrench here for your dad to use.”
