Page 2 of Saving Little Clark

We had barely made it through the front door before we were shedding our grown-up personas like old snakeskins, giggling and bouncing with giddy excitement. Alex immediately made a beeline for the massive toy chest in the corner, rummaging through its contents with a mischievous grin.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, holding up a brightly colored Lego set triumphantly. "I knew you still had this bad boy stashed away. Remember when we started building it last summer and got distracted by that epic water balloon fight in the park?"

I laughed, the memory washing over me like a burst of sunshine. "How could I forget? You nailed Mrs. Henderson from 4B right in the bouffant. I thought she was going to have a hissy fit right there on the sidewalk."

Alex snickered, already dumping the Lego pieces out onto the plush carpet and sorting them into piles. "Totally worth the dirty looks and passive aggressive notes on the building bulletin board. That old bat needs to learn to lighten up and live a little."

I plopped down beside him, cross-legged and eager, my fingers itching to start creating. We had been working on thisparticular set for ages - a sprawling, fantastical castle with soaring turrets, a drawbridge, and even a working catapult.

As we lost ourselves in the familiar rhythm of snapping pieces together and trading ideas, our conversation began to drift into playful territory.

"All I'm saying is, Batman would make a kickass Daddy," Alex argued, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he focused on attaching a particularly fiddly brick. "He's strong, protective, and he's got all those cool gadgets to keep his boy safe and entertained."

I snorted, shaking my head in amused disagreement. "Yeah, but he's also broody as hell and emotionally constipated. Can you imagine trying to get cuddles and reassurance from the Dark Knight? He'd probably just grunt and disappear into the Batcave for three days."

Alex paused, considering. "Okay, fair point. But counterargument: Superman. He's got the whole gentle giant thing going on, plus he can literally fly you anywhere in the world for picnics and adventures."

"Good one," I acknowledged, snapping a tiny flag onto the top of a turret. "But consider this: Captain America. He's the ultimate protector, plus he's got that whole wholesome vibe that would make him so good at praise and validation."

Alex's eyes lit up, a dreamy smile spreading across his face. "Oh man, can you imagine? Being all cozy in footie pajamas, curled up on the couch while he reads you bedtime stories and tells you what a good boy you are? I'm swooning just thinking about it."

I giggled, warmth blooming in my chest at the adorable image.

"Speaking of ultimate showdowns," he said, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "I think it's time we finally settle the age-old debate: strawberry or chocolate ice cream? Which one reigns supreme?"

I groaned playfully, dropping my head into my hands. "Alex, we've been over this a million times. Chocolate is the obvious winner. It's rich, decadent, and it goes with everything. Strawberry is just a one-trick pony."

"Blasphemy!" Alex cried, clutching his chest in mock-outrage. "Strawberry is the taste of summer, the flavor of happiness itself! Remember when your dad took us to that farm upstate to pick fresh berries? You were in heaven, your face and hands stained pink for days afterwards."

I smiled softly at the memory, a bittersweet pang of nostalgia twisting in my gut. It had been one of the last truly carefree moments of my adult life, before my dad died of cancer.

As the afternoon wore on and the light outside began to fade into a soft, dusky purple, Alex cleared his throat, a hint of nervous excitement creeping into his voice.

"So, I've been meaning to tell you something," he said, fiddling with a loose brick absently. "Remember that Daddy/Little club I joined a few months ago? The one you were kind of iffy about at first?"

I nodded, a flicker of apprehension mingling with curiosity in my chest. I remembered the first event he had attended, a "Teddy Bear Picnic" in the park. He had come home that evening with excitement in his eyes and grass stains on his overalls, clutching a brand-new stuffed bear to his chest like a precious treasure.

"It was magical, Clarkie," he had gushed, bouncing on the balls of his feet with barely contained glee. "There were somany Littles there, but everyone was so welcoming and friendly. We played tag and had sack races and ate PB&J sandwiches with the crusts cut off. I felt like I finally found a place where I could be totally, unapologetically myself."

Seeing the joy and contentment radiating from my best friend, I felt a pang of longing. But the wounds from my past relationship were still too raw, the scars too fresh and tender to risk exposing to a new group of people.

But now, as he crawled around my living room floor, his eyes sparkling with mischief and barely-contained excitement, I could tell he had something up his sleeve.

"So," he drawled, plopping down beside me and resting his chin on his hands like a gossipy schoolgirl. "A little birdie told me that the club is having a super special, ultra-amazing, once-in-a-lifetime event next weekend. And you, my dear Clarkie, are going to be my date!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? And what exactly is this mysterious event that has you practically vibrating out of your onesie?"

Alex grinned, bouncing in place like a kid on a sugar high. "Okay, picture this," he said, waving his hands in the air for dramatic effect. "A grand ballroom, decked out in twinkling lights and shimmering fabrics. Everyone dressed up in the most adorable fairy tale costumes - princesses and knights, fairies and woodland creatures. There's a giant story time circle where all the Littles can cuddle up and listen to classic bedtime tales, complete with voices and sound effects."

He hopped to his feet, waddling as he twirled around the room with an imaginary partner. "And then, the main event. a magical, enchanted dance floor, where Daddies and Littles can waltz and foxtrot and cha-cha the night away. It's like a scenestraight out of Cinderella, only instead of glass slippers and pumpkin carriages, it's light-up sneakers and sticker-covered sippy cups!"

"I don't know," I sighed, picking at a loose thread on my sweater. "It sounds amazing. But after everything that happened with Sterling, I'm just not sure if I'm ready to put myself out there again. What if I get hurt? What if no one wants to be my Daddy, or worse, what if I fall for someone who turns out to be just as toxic and manipulative as he was?"

Alex's expression softened, his eyes shining with understanding and empathy. He crawled closer, taking my hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Oh, Clarkie," he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "There are so many good, kind, caring Daddies out there who would be lucky to have a Little as sweet and special as you. And if anyone tries to mess with you or make you feel small in a bad way, they'll have to go through me first!"

He puffed out his chest, striking a heroic pose that made me giggle in spite of myself.

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