Page 16 of Little Boy Toy

Zale quickly added, “I hope it’s okay that I said that. I don’t mean to push. I’m not asking you for anything you don’t want.”

His hesitance made me hesitate, as well. “I know you’re not…” My voice trailed off.

Zale saw my unease and stepped in. “I enjoy being around you. Is that okay?”

My heart turned over in my chest. “It’s very okay.”

I felt like I could be myself around him. If that meant being my little self, it was okay. He knew that was part of me and didn’t seem fazed by it at all.

I smiled up at him, then turned away and set paper plates on the tiny table between my living room and kitchen.

When the pizza came, Zale insisted on paying. That made the dinner feel more like a date. Which I didn’t mind at all.

The pizza smelled so good I couldn’t wait to dig in. I burned my tongue on the first bite and started swigging juice from my sippy cup while letting out tiny moans.

“All right?” Zale asked.

He didn’t laugh at me, but his eyes softened. Maybe he wanted to laugh. Or maybe he wanted to take care of me. A boy could dream.

I nodded vigorously as I drained my cup. Zale got up without any prompting from me and got more juice from the fridge. He refilled my cup and handed it to me.

“Thank you.” I took another sip, but the burn was already forgotten. Instead, I was noticing more and more details about Zale that I liked.

He had those sweet locks of dark hair that fell about his temples and brushed the tops of his cheeks when he bent his head forward. They curled ever so slightly at the ends. He was broad and tall, but he had babyish lips, a pink full bow, and those long legs went on forever. I loved the way his eyebrows, with a cut through the corner of the left one, gave him a smirky, Jason Momoa look.

If I couldn’t have Zale, at least I could memorize him for my private fantasies.

“Pizza is my favorite veggie,” I said, happily biting into my second, much cooler slice.

Zale laughed. “I would agree with that. Next time maybe we can get peppers and mushrooms.”

“Sure. But no onions, please.”

“Duly noted.”

He had said ‘next time.’ I couldn’t help the way my pulse revved at those words. We were both on the same page about wanting to keep seeing each other.

After dinner, we played my favorite video game. Zale laughed a lot. When I first met him, he seemed like the type of guy who was pretty serious. I liked that he could relax with me.

When he got up to leave, he said, “Kendry, can I hug you goodbye?”

It was weird—and nice—that he asked. Not a kiss, but a hug.

“I’d like that.”

“Fantastic.”

He leaned down just as I lifted my hands. His arms went around my chest and he hugged me tight to his chest, all warm and smelling of fresh soap. As I reached up to put my wrists around his neck, he suddenly let go. I stepped back hard, almost losing my balance.

“Oops.” He said, placing a hand on my shoulder to steady me.

“It was a good night.” Despite the short hug. I could have hugged him for longer. Much longer. Minutes. Maybe hours.

He didn’t seem ready, though, so I said nothing.

That night I lay in my bed hugging one of my stuffed bears on one side, and my alien on the other. I kept seeing his face appear against my closed eyelids and feeling that hug. Like a stirring squeeze right against the center of my heart.

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