Page 44 of The Trailer Park Twink
“You were just so beautiful, Dallas. You were pretty and you always smiled at me. Please don't be mad. It was just a little light stalking.”
To my surprise, he lifts me off his lap and places me on the empty space next to him. Before I can object, he stands and walks toward the cabin. Dazed, I just sit here watching him walk away, and it takes me all of five seconds to realize I’ve probably just ruined everything with my big mouth and horrible life choices. I use some dirt to extinguish the fire then head to find Dallas.
When I make it inside, Dallas is making a bed on the sofa. He’s already got sheets laid out, and he’s unfolding a blanket.
“Please don’t be mad at me.”
“Oh, I’m not mad. I amlivid,Austin Snowden.” He spreads the blanket across the sofa, then slips between the sheets and blanket, rolling onto his side and facing away from me. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
I kneel behind him and place my hand on his back. “I’m sorry. I can’t say I’d do anything differently given the chance, because it led us here, but I’m sorry for hurting you. For watching you jack off when you thought you were alone.”
“Dammit,” he says with an exhausted sigh. “It ain’t about—I need you to give me a little time. Just go to bed and we can talk about it in the morning.”
“But . . . just come to bed. Okay? I don’t want to be away from you. And we have the nice new sheets and a pretty pink comforter. Tonight is the first night of the rest of our lives.”
“Well, you should have thought about that before you climbed that damn tree. I’m not happy with you right now.”
He doesn’t turn over to give me a goodnight kiss, and it’s enough to make it feel like I’ve just thrown away every dream I’ve ever dreamed.
I could leave him alone like he asked me to, but my place is at his side. So, I head to the bedroom and grab the comforter off the bed and drag it back to the living room with a pillow in my hand. Dallas doesn’t turn over as I make a pallet beside the couch, nor does he make a peep when I reach up and rest my hand on his hip as I try to fall asleep, needing to feel a connection with him. He just lies up there on the couch, his body tense.
“I love you, Daddy.”
He sighs. “I love you too.”
I toss and turn most of the night, too wound-up in worry to get more than a few minutes of sleep at a time. Dallas has never refused to tell me he loves me back. Never. It makes me scared I’ve overstepped by stalking him in my younger years. Hell, maybe I did, but what’s done is done, and Daddy’s furious, and it’s killing me to be this close to him and not feel our connection.
I pretend to be sleeping when he wakes at five, keeping my eyes shut tight as he steps over me and heads toward the kitchen. Squinting, I peek through thearchway leading into the kitchen, watching as he grabs a few bottles of water from the fridge.
At first, I think one bottle might be for me. That theory proves inaccurate when he walks past me and grabs his tackle box before opening the front door.
“Daddy,” I whisper, my voice rough from exhaustion. He pauses in the doorway, sighing like he’s just been caught cheating or something. “Are you leaving?”
“I’m going fishing to clear my head. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
No, because that doesn’t work for me at all. The longer he’s alone, the more chance he has to talk himself out of this. The longer he’ll have to realize just how problematic I am, and long enough for him to decide I’m not worth the trouble.
“Can I come too?” I ask. He shakes his head, but he doesn’t move to leave. “Please? I’ll be quiet, I promise. I won’t scare the fish away. I just want to be with you.”
With slumped shoulders, he relents, glancing over his shoulder and giving me a nod, but still refusing to meet my gaze. That’s fine though. We’ll get there. At least he’s extending an olive branch, small though it may be.
“You’ve got five minutes. If you’re not ready, I’m taking the boat out without you.” With that, he grabs his cowboy hat from the coat rack beside the door and puts it on as he heads out the door.
Okay, number one, I didn’t even realize he owned a boat. And number two, fucking yay, because the thought of lounging on a boat as Daddy navigates the calm waters of whatever the hell this lake is named sounds absolutely divine. I wonder if it's a big boat. Maybe even a yacht!
When I emerge from the house, Daddy does a double take at my outfit. Hoping to get a bit of a tan, I’m only wearing a pink tank top and a matching pair of trunks that leave nothing to the imagination. Every inch is on display, and Dallas is staring like he’s trying to memorize it to heart.
For the briefest of moments, I think he might toss me over his shoulder and cart me back into the house so he can ravish me for the rest of day. No such luck. He just points at the edge of the water.
Okay, so, any chance of fun in the sun has been dashed, because instead of a mini-yacht, he has a small canoe-like boat with barely any room for me. There will be no getting my tan on, because I’ll practically be in Dallas’ pockets. Oh well. Don’t care. I’ll still get to be in close quarters with Daddy, so I’ll take it.
I take a seat in the alleged boat, turned backward so I can face him. Dallas is on the shore, pushing the boat into the water before climbing in. He uses his paddle to push us away from the shore and motions for me to grab the other one. I didn’t sign up for manual labor, but that’s okay. I have a lot of upper armstrength thanks to my rigorous masturbation schedule. At his side, a fishing pole is wedged in a little metal-loop contraption, locking it in place. There’s a tacklebox between us, and a small sack lunch. I guess we’re going to be out here a while.
The entire time we paddle, I keep looking up at him, hoping he’ll be looking back, but he doesn’t. Just keeps his eyes locked straight ahead, steering us God knows where. He stops rowing when we reach a small, secluded lagoon. Above, a canopy of trees shield us from the rest of the world, and the small space reminds me of that scene in The Little Mermaid when the stupid crab is yammering on about kissing the girl. I don’t want to kiss a girl though. I want Daddy. Want to hug and kiss him all over. Want to cuddle up close and have him stroke my hair.
We’re silent as he loads his bait onto the line and flings it into the lake, the silence sounding like a midnight scream; unavoidable, unrequested, and unwanted. I can’t stand this awkward tension, so I open my mouth to speak, but he must see me in his peripheral vision, because he quickly shakes his head.
“You said you wouldn’t scare the fish if I brought you.”
