Page 21 of Santa’s Little Faker
“Yes. I’m yours.” Refusing to question exactly what I was promising, I tried not to make it too ridiculous. “I’m your special helper and I will not do any Daddy kind of things or special friend kind of things with Terrence’s friend.”
Was that too broad or just broad enough?
“I wouldn’t date him to save him from your mother or Enzo’s…that’s just you, Trippy.” The childish nickname slipped out, making him giggle. “You’re still a trip, but you’re my trip.”
After a stupid round of insane teasing from his family when he was younger, he’d asked me what his name meant. I was a bit of a teenage prick at the time, so I’d told him he was a trip…mostly because he was kind of annoying at that age and I’d just seen the reference in an old movie.
I’d quickly followed up by explaining that it was a place people went to go on vacation because it’d been the only reference I’d known, but Trippy had somehow stuck. I had to admit, though, he was still a trip but nothing about his current headspace made me think of him as an actual kid.
When had he grown up so much?
He wanted a Daddy?
He wanted to be spanked?
Pushing those thoughts out of my head, because the images they were creating were problematic, I glanced toward the movie again hoping it would distract him.
It didn’t.
“I’m the only one who gets kisses too.” Still frowning at me in a very un-Orlando-like way, he was taking the strange conversation very seriously. “Holding hands too.”
This fake dating situation was getting a bit out of hand.
“That’s right.”
At some point I was going to have to put some limits on it.
“I’m just there for you, Trippy.” I wasn’t sure he was going to let me distract him with anything else, so I did my best to steer the conversation in a slightly less intense direction. “When should we do our first date?”
Lord.
His family made me have the strangest conversations…I wasn’t sure I could complain, though, because they’d been doing it since I’d moved in next door to them as a teenager.
Thankfully, my distraction worked this time and his gruff frown disappeared as he looked down at his picture. “Two more pictures? Three? Oh. Do I get dessert?”
Was I going on a date with little Orlando or big Orlando?
“If you’re hungry for dessert after dinner then we can talk about it.” A treat wouldn’t hurt him, but his friend associated Daddies with healthy food, so I shrugged. “Maybe we can share one? That will look like a good date.”
And no matter where we ended up, his family would hear about it one way or another.
The only reasonable goal seemed to be to try to keep the date looking as vanilla as possible, so going out with a grown-up Orlando should probably be our aim.
“Oh.” Leaning over the table on his elbows, he wiggled his bottom as the coloring and movie were forgotten. “We can be like Lady and the Tramp.”
Was that a good idea?
“Your mother might not like us doing that in public.” At the very least she’d end up with weird questions. Orlando’s frown said he didn’t like that answer. Shit. “But how about I feed you the first bite? That’s very…very dating too.”
Was I allowed to say romantic when it wasn’t supposed to be real?
“Yes.” Orlando didn’t seem to mind the trade-off either way and gave me a beaming smile. “And you can order for me. Dates and Doms both can do that.”
Technically yes.
“As long as that would make you happy.” I wasn’t going to drive him insane just to put on a show for his nosy family. “Would—”
His wicked grin and naughty snicker had me pausing mid-sentence, but I had to admit it took me a few seconds to realize what I’d said.
