Page 6 of Matteo's Mettle
“I’m paraphrasing.”
Josh’s blasé attitude about misquoting a classic tune has my lips twitching with amusement. “Just let me paint my duck in peace, would you?”
“You’re the boss.” He settles back in to his masterpiece without further argument, for which I’m beyond thankful.
I forget all about the hot Daddy for the better part of the next hour, managing to finally slip into little space. Josh drags me from one activity to another, and eventually I have to admit that I’m having fun.
Can I really give this up?
I know the guys won’t shun me if I take a step back from the lifestyle, but will I really be happy hanging out with them if I do? Will I be able to watch Ash being little for Charlie, or listen to Josh’s outlandish stories of how bratty he can be without it feeling like torture? Not to mention how much harder it might become if Chance, Spence and Ted also find their forever littles. Can I really sit among that and not miss being a part of it?
No. I don’t think I can.
Which means that walking away from being little includes walking away from the friends I’ve made here.
I don’t want to do that. But, at the same time, I don’t want to be living in limbo, either.
A loud, infectious laugh pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts. I instinctively turn towards the sound. My breath catches in my throat when I realize that the laughter is coming from the hot young Daddy I locked eyes with earlier.
“Who’s that?” I can’t help asking Josh, pointing in the Daddy’s direction.
Josh puts down the Play-Doh he’d been shaping into a giant penis andnotthe Disney characters we’re supposed to be building and follows the line from my index finger. Hot Young Daddy (as I am now calling him, because I’m clearly very creative) is standing with a group of caregivers, watching as a bunch of littles engage in a ‘dance off’ set to Disney songs.
Thankfully, Josh and I both agreed that that particular activity was not for us.
“HelloooDaddy,” my friend says, all low and husky as he drags the words out, his eyes lighting up as they land on the man in question. He lets out an appreciative whistle. “I’ve never seen him here before…and, believe me, I’d remember if I had.”
I snort.
Casting me a sideways glance, Josh’s expression turns sly. “I didn’t know you liked ‘em young, Matty. He’s gotta be about my age.”
I refuse to blush. I refuse to blush. I refuse to…damn it.
My cheeks flame.
“Shut up. I don’t usually.” And I don’t. I mean, I appreciate attractive men of all ages, but I’ve never been into younger Daddies. Of course, at my age, most of the guys in the club are at least a decade my junior now, and I can’t be upset at being rejected for my age while simultaneously rejecting potential Daddies for theirs. That’s just hypocritical. Still, this guy isyoungyoung. Like he’s probably still getting asked for his ID at bars young.
Josh turns to look Hot Young Daddy over again. “Pity his bands say he’s not looking to play.”
My gaze drifts to Hot Young Daddy’s wrist and my heart sinks. I should have figured someone as attractive as him would be taken.
“But he’s gay, so all is not lost.” Josh observes. His tone takes on a hopeful lilt. “Maybe he’s not actually with anyone? Maybe he just wanted to check out the club without pressure?”
I shake my head, arching an eyebrow. “You’re an eternal optimist, aren’t you?”
Josh shrugs but doesn’t turn back to look at me. He’s still staring unashamedly at Hot Young Daddy. Then his brows furrow. “If he’s gay, why’s he here with a girl?”
“What?” I swivel my head back around so quickly I’m surprised I don’t give myself whiplash. Sure enough, Hot Young Daddy is now cuddling a curvaceous little in a stunning Belle ballgown costume. Whatever was left of my hopes crashes and burns. I sigh. “Maybe Meg handed him the wrong band.”
“Hmm,” Josh doesn’t sound convinced. “Meg’s attention to detail is second to none. I don’t buy it.”
“Either way,” I try to drag him back into playing with the Play-Doh, “he’s here with someone, so he’s not worth thinking about.”
I manage to convince Josh to drop it and we turn back to our creations until someone calls his name. A Daddy I’ve met before saunters over, barely says hi to me, then asks Josh if he’s interested in ‘doing a scene’ with him. He might have just said “Hey, wanna fuck?” for all the good his attempt at subtlety does him. Josh bites his lip, clearly torn between wanting to blow off some steam with this guy or sticking with me.
“Go,” I wave him off, “have fun. I’ll text you tomorrow.”
Josh wraps his arms around me in a grateful hug, wishes me a happy birthday one last time, then disappears into the crowd of caregivers and littles, holding the random Daddy’s hand. I drop my lump of Play-Doh with a sigh. It lands with a heavy splat on the table in front of me.
