Page 10 of Roleplay at Randy's
I look up at Hannah and her smug smile. ‘Elias.’
She finger spells, then follows it up with rubbing the ‘E’ sign on her nose.
My mouth drops open even as I feel a smile forming. ‘You gave him a sign name? Are youfriends?’
She shrugs. ‘He’s a regular. We’re familiar enough. He’s a funny guy.’
Ugh. That is in no way helping my resolve not to fall into serious like with the guy.
We chat a little off and on, but I’ve mostly got my headphones on making a content schedule.
Not everything I post is sexual in nature. Pictures and videos are good at hooking people, but I also write a lot of sappy posts about domestic daydreams of mine. Sure, there’s lots of lyrical descriptions about how my dream guy touches and holds me, but I wouldn’t consider most of them erotic.
Though, there’s a couple erotic stories on there for when I haven’t quite been in the mood to film but my thoughts were definitely in the gutters.
I try to balance it all out with the little cafe gig I pick up occasional shifts at.
Hannah and I don’t usually chat much when we hang out; we just enjoy the quiet of each other’s company. I swear it’s more her way of getting me out of my apartment—and away from the headache inducing toxic fumes.
Calum—the little boy—stays pretty well behaved the rest of the time. He munches on his fries, watches videos, and claps along to the songs. Sometimes he shouts bits of it along with them, but none of Randy's patrons seem to mind.
Occasionally, he’ll reach over and grab my hand—like when he drops a fry and wants me to pick it up—or get distracted by my hair, but he’s gentle this time, twirling it around his finger while staring at his show.
It’s kind of cute, honestly, and it makes my chest feel a little tight, because there was a time when I wondered if Riley and I would have kids someday. If he’d want that. If I’d want that.
It was years ago, but that doesn’t make the little ache in my heart any less raw.
A little while later, once I’ve got a solid plan for the week in place and am itching to do some internet surfing that isdefinitelynotsafe for babysitting, Hannah looks up and waves excitedly at a shadow that falls over the table.
I don’t look at first, but Calum has his hand in my hair again, and when Hannah’s movement gets his attention, he bounces up with all of his contained enthusiasm.
Which is fine, except the hand clutched in my hair doesn’t let up, and he yanks ithard.
I curse louder than I should in the presence of little ears, and soon enough the little iron grip releases me, and a soothing, familiar voice speaks overhead.
“Cal, little man, we have to be easy. I know, his hair is really pretty and soft, but we have to be gentle when we touch people. Can you say you’re sorry.”
Calum’s cheek presses to the top of my head, and I can’t hold back a smile.
“So-rry,” he says, broken up into two syllables and pitched high in the middle. I think it’s the first time I’ve heard him speak.
I pat his arm where it’s wrapped around my neck, and there’s a huff from beside me as his weight lightens.
“You’re too big for this.”
I know that laugh. Nervous and a little breathy.
I tilt my head to glance up and feel the breath in my lungs skitter out.
Elias Lee. Standing all kinds of disheveled with his blond hair sticking all out around his face with a bright smile as he holds Cal on his hip, the boy moves on to playing withhishair instead.
In the light and with the proper focus, I can see the streaks of teal scattered throughout.
His eyes move from Calum to me, and those already soft irises become gentler.
“Hi, Matty.”
“Hey, Elias.”
