Page 55 of Becoming His Perfect Daddy
Ugh, this is embarrassing.
Fuck.
Okay, so . . . I *may* have taken to writing the name of my crushes all over my notebooks in middle school. And maybe high school.
And maybe one of them saw it and kissed me when I was a junior.
And maybe we “dated” for three months. (Dated in quotes because it never got past kissing and holding hands at school.)
3:36 pm
But if anyone ever asks me about any of that, I will deny it.
3:39 pm
I can’t believe I told you all that. I've never told anyone that.
*gif of someone zipping their lips*
3:40 pm
Does that mean I’m special, Daddy?
Yes, sweet boy, more than you know. <3
Chapter fifteen
Cameron
Mid-September
“Cameron!”
I glanced over to see Tristan waving at me from in front of the long bar. Grinning, I hurried across the raised platform at Mix It Up’s entrance and skipped down the steps into the main part of the bar. The elevated area surrounding the front doors held several tables and chairs, but just a few steps down, on the lower level, was the dance floor with the shiny main bar off to the right and a stage along the back wall. The place was still empty enough that I could both hear and see my bestie, but I knew it’d be filling up within the hour. That was why I’d agreed to meet Tris here a little early.
Tristan was talking with Henry, the owner of Mix It Up, who was predictably behind the bar slinging drinks. Though he had a decent number of employees, he was often here helping out. I wondered if he was lonely and used the bar as his excuse to get out of the house.
My bestie laughed at something he said as I approached, and I eyed him, my eyes narrowing. Was he flirting with Henry? The man appeared to be twenty years older than him, though I suspected Tris would go for that. I could definitely see him wanting a Daddy who was much older to take care of him.
Hmm. Maybe . . .
When I stepped up next to Tris’s barstool, Henry handed me my usual rum and coke without me needing to ask, and I tasted it, smiling as the delicious liquor hit my tongue. Tristan turned to me then, sipping his fancy Mai Tai—Henry had to have tricked it out just for him, because no way did their regular drinks include custom fruit spirals and mini umbrellas—but when his eyes lit on something behind me, they shot wide, and he sputtered around his drink.
I leapt toward him, patting him on the back as he coughed, trying to clear his throat. Henry handed us a few drink napkins to help clean up the liquor he’d spit on both of us.
Once he’d recovered and my T-shirt was mostly dry—thankfully it was black and wouldn’t show any stains—my curiosity got the best of me. I glanced over my shoulder but saw nothing amiss. “Okay, Tris, what was that? What’s going on?”
He shook his head, blinking, before he turned back toward the bar. “Oh, nothing.”
“Tristan Applegate!” I lightly punched his bicep. “What happened?”
He slowly, comically, turned his entire body toward me. “Okay, so don’t freak out.”
My heart started racing, so I smacked him again. “Tris! That’s not helping! OfcourseI’m going to freak out now!”
He set his nearly empty drink on the bar, and I barely noticed Henry grab it and start to make a new one. Then Tristan grabbed me by the shoulders, staring down at me. I was jealous of the three or four inches he had on me. “Okay, so someone’s here.”
I just stared at him for a second. “Um, okay? Someone? Of course, ‘someone’ is here, Tris. This is a bar. There are a lot of someones here.”
