“It is, but…”
“There’s no buts. At least not the kind you want. You want a Daddy, right? That’s still the goal?”
I sighed. I did want a Daddy. Desperately. I knew my parents loved and cared for me, but at the end of the day, I wanted to hand over control and decision-making to someone who wanted to invest in me and build a relationship. I wanted to give him the things he needed as well.
“Yes.”
I couldn’t lie to him. It was no use because he’d ignore what I said and continue on with what he knew I really wanted—the secrets we revealed to one another shrouded in the darkness of our hotel rooms during road trips.
“Then get out of the damn car.”
He was right. I needed to suck it up.
“Are you scared?”
Was he nuts? Of course, I was scared. So, so scared. But I didn’t know if I was scared of what I wanted to lose or what I could gain.
“Aren’t you?”
“Of taking the chance… no. Of not finding the man I want, the Daddy I want… abso-fucking-lutely. All day. Every day.”
Well, that made me feel some better.
“But, dude… sitting in your Jeep, staring at the damn building week after week is self-sabotage. It’s begging to live a life without what you want. If this was hockey, you’d have stormed through that door and yelled, ‘I’m here, I’m queer, now point me to the Daddies.’”
I burst out laughing. I had done something like that when we were in high school and I first started playing. Homophobia in locker rooms ran rampant, and I refused to hide. Not that I could with the eyeliner, lip gloss, and nail polish I wore. Even if I weren’t gay, people would’ve made that jump. So, I laid all my cards on the table from the first practice.
Now… if only I could muster the brass ones to do that here and walk through the door of the club where I could literally make one of my dreams come true.
“I don’t know anyone in there.”
I hadn’t even gotten up the nerve to go to any of the Sunday munches.
Shane laughed. “Never stopped you before. Just do your emo, broody boy routine. The right Daddy will flock to you like a moth to the flame.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I just am. But if you need reassurance, then let me say this, I rue the day my psyche decided to make me a sub and not a Daddy because we would’ve made one fucking righteous couple. Hot, sexy, kinky, talented on the ice and off.”
Neither of us had voiced those thoughts before, but Shane, if he were a Daddy, would’ve ticked off every box on my Daddy Wish List except the Age Gap/Silver Fox box. It wasn’t a requirement, and had Shane and I been just slightly more different, I would have crossed that wish off the list and jumped into the Best Friends to Lovers pool with no regrets.
“Aid, open the damn door, lock your car, and go strut your stuff. You did all the prep work, right?”
Ugh!
“Aid?”
“Yes.” The word came out as a cross between a groan and a sing-songy whine.
He laughed. Actually cracked up would be a better descriptor. Through the chuckles, he asked, “You’re wearing the outfit we picked out, right?”
This time, the groan was just that. A groan. The outfithepicked out had less fabric than my jockstrap, so no, I wasn’t wearing that.
“You didn’t wear it? Why?”
“Because my cheeks were out and not the ones on my face.”
“And…”
