Page 9 of Their Little House Colter
“Yeah. He’s my favorite, and I used to have to keep him in a drawer because my roommate was…not really—”
“Understanding?” He filled in for me.
“Um, aware, I think, is the better word.” I shoved my hands into my front pockets. I didn’t want Mike to look like a dick. He wasn’t one. But also, I didn’t want to lie to my new friend. “But I didn’t think he’d understand, and it would’ve made him uncomfortable, so that was on me, too.”
“You won’t have any of that here. We’re all little.” He bounced on the balls of his feet. “I was gonna play tonight. Did you want to play?”
“Do you mean in the playroom, or do you mean like, go out?” I’d have done either but was hoping he meant stay in.
“I was thinking the playroom, but we could go out. I just thought, maybe—”
“No, no, no. I’d love to do that. Are you going to dress the part?” I really wanted to wear my jammies.
He nodded, his lips pressed closed like he wanted to say more but was forcing himself not to.
“Great,” I said. “I think I’m just gonna do pajamas, though, because I’m kind of tired, and I need to take a shower first. Meet you in a half hour?”
“A half hour is perfect.”
He started to step away, stopping when I asked more out of curiosity than anything else. “Does everybody here have a daddy?” Fine, it wasn’t out of curiosity. I wanted to see if Dallas was single. Gods, I was begging to be hurt, wasn’t I?
“No. I mean, sometimes people do from time to time, but I don’t.” I thought he was done, but then he blurted out, “Do you?”
“No, I don’t. I’m not real good with having a daddy just for fun, and that kind of slows the whole process down.” Why was I telling him my life story?
Any worry I had of him being upset by my oversharing fell away as he skipped off—literally skipping.
I hit the shower, put on my dragon zipper jams, and brought my stuffie with me to the playroom.
Dallas was already there, working on a book. At first, I thought he was coloring, but as I got closer, I saw that it was a sticker-by-number.
“That’s so cool. I’ve never ever seen one of those.” I sat in front of him. “How do you do it?”
He explained how each page of stickers correlated with a certain color page and how to know which one went where.
We spent the next half hour putting stickers on there and talking about our favorite stuffies and which kind of chickie nuggies were best. It was something we both agreed on—Valentine nuggies were far superior. It was science.
And as much fun as we were having, I couldn’t help but catch myself looking at his lips and wondering what they would feel like against my own, what they would taste like, what his arms around me would—
Not now, Colter.
He’s not for us.
He’ll find a nice daddy who’ll take care of him, and we’ll be his friend. That’s all he can ever be.
Chapter Eight
Ari
Blair met me outside Chained. He was one of the few daddies I knew well who didn’t have a little in his life. It generally meant that when we went to the little room, we were popular guys, since the single littles outnumbered us. I preferred not to be with anyone often enough to give them any ideas that we were more than just play partners for an evening, but I also tried not to say no if anyone approached me. Hurt feelings could happen, and nobody needed that.
There were several friends in the conversation area, and we stopped there long enough to have a drink and catch up. As almost always, there was one of Chained’s delicious big/little platters of apps on the table between the sofas, and the chickie nuggies and ranch were rapidly disappearing into the mouths of eager and adorable littles. There were also some kind of mini pies that seemed popular with them.
“PB&J handheld pies,” Bridger said. “Hudson will eat them all if I don’t keep an eye on him.” He fixed a stern glare on his little whose onesie was printed with a rubber duckie, and Hudson set down the treat in his hand. “Just take it slow, sweet boy. You don’t want an upset tummy, do you?”
“No, Daddy.” He swung his head left to right. “That happened before.”
“It sure did.” Bridger reached for a piece of broccoli and closed Hudson’s hand around it. “Have a little tree.”
