Page 161 of Stabby Little

Grant drives his thumb into my chin. "I'll pay for top psychologists in New York City to help you where I fall short. I'll enroll you in classes to catch you up on the education you missed out on in the warehouse. When you need a shoulder to cry on, I'll take you into my arms and read you the stories you loved as a boy. I don't fucking care if I need to readGoodnight Moonten times or make an audiobook of myself readingWhere The Wild Things Areso you can fall asleep. I'll make you fluffy buttermilk pancakes in the morning and dress you in your cozy pink bunny onesie so you feel safe at night. Hell, I'll even tuck you into bed. Or you can sleep in my bed. Fuck knows I haven't had anyone to share my bed with in years, sweetie. Not since Linda left. If you'd like, I'll hold you in my arms as we fall asleep."

A million emotions crash into me as I stare at Grant. This… iseverythingI pictured him saying when I lived in the warehouse. The words tumbling out of his lips, these beautiful, caring words, are the very things I prayed he'd tell me when I finally escaped, which I knew would happen, because I had to fucking escape to find my way back to him.

I take his hand and squeeze it tight. "There's something I need to tell you, Grant. I'm not the most normal boy.”

“Go on.”

“My captors warped my mind. They made me crave some very fucked up things.”

Grant nods. “I'm listening.”

“If you agree to take on this role, I might do things that'll make you uncomfortable. I won't be able to control it, either. I'm not the sweet boy you knew before my captors kidnapped me. I'm a monster at times, a nightmare at others, and I'm also into certain kinks. I might—no, Iwill—attempt to engage you sexually even if you try to blow me off. Even if you say no, I'll still try. Informed consent is something that was stolen from me, so I'm still trying to understand it."

Grant cups my cheek. "I have a confession for you, sweet boy." His voice turns low and gravelly as his eyes kiss mine. "Would you think I'm sick if I say I don't mind? Would you think I'm a fucked up dirty old man who wants to be intimate with his son's best friend?"

I lean in and press my lips to his cheek. "I've fantasized about this more than you could ever know in the warehouse." My voice grows soft. "I thought about… calling you certain names. Certain titles. You putting your hands on me."

Grant moves his hand underneath my blanket and rubs my hip. He peels back the pajamas Arlo lent me, then stares at my birthmark on my hip.

"This birthmark looks very familiar."

I furrow my brow. "What do you mean?"

"Come to the Little Bunny Club tomorrow night. You'll find out."

50

OLLIE

Saturday night, June 27th

I rub my palms on my dark jeans as I step into the Little Bunny Club. I head to Valentin's office to accept my white mask and kitty gear. After I don it in the luxury bathroom, I walk down the hall to the black room with the lava lamp.

The only thing different tonight is I'm no longer wearing my blond wig. I'm letting my dark hair shine in all its glory.

Grant's cryptic words billow through my mind. I asked him why he wanted me to head to the club, but he refused to answer. He said Constantine was organizing a surprise for me with the other Littles and that he needed me to attend in my usual gear.

None of it made sense. I have no idea how he determined what myusual gearwas. I assume Constantine informed him I was sneaking into the club under Kobe's identity, and he was curious to see my kitty outfit, too. But I'm not sure.

And I still don't know what any of this has to do with my birthmark—the same birthmark that's always existed on my hip. Why Grant purported to recognize it, I'll never know. I assume it's because he saw me naked when I was zip tied to the water pipe, but why did he act like it was familiar? No matter how many times I asked him about it this past week, he ignored me. He said he'd explain everything Saturday night and I needed to be patient.

Patience. It's not exactly one of my virtues.

Grant better not surprise me in a bad way. I'll never forgive him.

The boy in the dress I recognize from a few weeks ago passes me in the hallway. "Don't you look lovely."

I roll my eyes. "I'm meeting up with the man I've been in love with since I was a boy so if you thought you had a one percent chance of getting with me before, tonight it's zero."

He taps his acrylic nails on his thighs. "Well, I never. I thought you were nice when we were preparing rosé in the kitchen together, but I was wrong."

"Think what you want." I gesture to my body. "You must not have heard me. The man I've been in love with since I was a boy is going to see me inthisoutfit. I might actually have a chance with him."

The boy marches past me. "I don't think he'll be into you with that attitude. But I wish you the best of luck."

"Thanks." I head down the hall. "You, too. Have fun with your banana."

Visions of this twink blowing a banana flash through my mind. I seriously can't believe he demonstrated blowjob lessons for me, because if anyone knows how to give a blowjob, it's me. Seven years servicing the sickest motherfuckers in the state did that for me. But he was friendly enough tonight, so it's bad karma to wish him ill will. Also, he wished me luck when I reiterated I was meeting the love of my life. That should count for something, right?

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