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He strutted past me once I moved over. I glanced down the hall to make sure he didn’t bring any of the Princess Pack with him. Those guys were a riot, but I wasn’t in the mood to corral them all.
“Milk me,” Doyle declared as he popped the box open and dropped onto my couch.
Shaking my head, I went into the kitchen and grabbed one of his special cups. I had a set here since he stopped by often enough to need it. The other princesses in the pack typically brought their own.
After pouring his drink and grabbing water for myself — even though a beer would have been nice given my mood—I went to join him. The grabby hands he made at me were cute enough to take some of the darkness away.
“Thank you! Now eat one of these eclairs and tell me what the plan is. Are you finally doing The Thing?” He grabbed his own treat, then turned so his back was against the arm of the couch and his now shoeless feet were propped in front of him.
“The Thing?” I questioned.
He waved his hand as he worked to swallow the massive bite he’d taken. Boy was always rushing the sugar into his system, as if he didn’t already have enough natural energy.
“You know… The Thing. Getting the agent of your dreams and moving down South so your pops doesn’t have to suffer through harsh winters.”
“I didn’t realize my life choices had a coined phrase.”
“Everything has a coined phrase, my friend. You just have to think creatively.” He took a sip from his cup. “Now back to the main topic. Did you email that hunky man to ask for his help or not? If you’re moving, I need to plan a going away party. I’m sure Princess Aster wouldn’t mind hosting. The Daddies all love you to pieces, even though you’re younger than us all.”
Doyle was right. I was the youngest in their group by several years. It didn’t matter to me seeing as our similarities were about the kink dynamics we enjoyed. So long as everyone was a consenting adult, it was cool.
“While I love the idea of the move, I can say you guys are going to be the sad part of leaving. You’re all basically my extended family at this point.”
“Hell yeah we are! Which means this isn’t a goodbye at all. We will be calling and video chatting and visiting as much as possible. You can’t escape us. I even heard Daddy Paddy talk with Lewis about opening a club down there somewhere. He said Texas, but maybe we can swing his decision with you moving.”
I took a bite of the éclair to avoid commenting. It wasn’t that I hated the idea of there being a Club Deny near me. The part that tripped me up was whether or not I’d have the time to care for whatever Little I met once I went pro. It was part of the reason I hadn’t committed to anyone despite there being options.
There was also my stupid crush on Grizzly. Nothing would ever come of it. It still didn’t help that in my head, I compared everyone I met to him.
And I didn’t even know if he was Little. You couldn’t tell just by looking at someone. The idea that there was some type of standard irked me. I’d seen all shapes, sizes, and genders be Daddies.
“That’s totally up to Patrick, Lewis, and Miguel. Whether it happens or not, I’ll likely be slammed with signing a deal and getting sorted.”
Doyle hummed thoughtfully. “You’re right. It being the next state over could be good for you too. Then you’re not shitting where you eat.”
“Dammit! I’m eating, man. Why did you say that?”
He giggled, kicking his feet all happy like. I scowled for a moment before cracking up myself. When we finally managed to calm back down, I grabbed the remote from the table and handed it over.
“Put on one of your shows. You can stay for one, right?”
“Yep. Daddy told me when my curfew is. I’ll make it back in plenty of time.” He drew out the word plenty, which told me he would in fact be cutting it close.
Pierce would have a field day with him over it. He loved when Doyle was sassy and ornery. They were a perfect pair that way.
Now I just needed to find my Little. And get a new agent. And move. And get drafted.
Maybe I needed to start a list. This was going to be a lot.
CHAPTER 2
Grizzly
When I was a kid, I wanted to live among the clouds. To me, they represented freedom. You couldn’t catch a cloud. Couldn’t scold it or tell it to be more manly. You could only take in its beauty as it floated past.
There was a park on my way home with a field I used to visit after school. I’d lie in the warm grass, my backpack tossed beside me and stare at the sky. Time would pass in a blur as I let my imagination take hold.
Even as I got older, I still gravitated to that field. It felt the same at nearly six feet tall and two-fifty as it did at three feet and less than a hundred pounds.
