“You thought Ren might be one?”
“Renisone, even if you don’t exactly use those formalities. Everything that you described to me says that Ren is your dom and you’re his submissive.”
Felton tilts his head to the side. “Oh. Right. I said that already, didn’t I?”
I smile. “You did. And you’re right. He is. But I’m looking for someone intentionally and… consciously maybe? I want someone to learn from.”
“A mentor.”
“I suppose so, yeah.”
“You can talk to Ren, I think. He might not be an expert, but what we have works for us.”
“I might. Thanks for sharing with me, though. I really appreciate your trust in me.”
Felton gives me a coy smile. “You and Willits think I don’t know when you’re saying nice things to me because I like them, but I do,” he says. “So thanks.”
“Actually, what we’re doing is giving you affirmation,” I tell him.
“Is that different than what I said?”
“Kind of. We’re not just saying nice things to you because you like them. You need to hear when you’re doing something right. You need it in everyday life because, as you pointed out, you grew up believing everything you did was wrong. We’re doing the opposite, not because you like it but because you need it to feel comfortable in life. It helps you build your confidence, too, to know that you’re not always wrong.”
“Affirmation,” he repeats.
I incline my head. “Yes. Interestingly, that’s also a common theme in the dom/sub lifestyle. Many subs require affirmation. Of course, there’s also the opposite. Some get off to humiliation and degradation.”
Felton’s eyes go wide. “No, thank you.”
Grinning, I shake my head. “I’m not into that either. To each their own, right?”
He nods. I imagine that humiliation and degradation is probably far too close to home as to how his father treated him.
Willits comes around the corner with a large paper bag in his hands. I can smell food as he smiles at us and sets it on the table. Out of it he pulls takeout containers.
“I didn’t know this was a potluck,” Felton says as he leans forward.
“It’s not. It’s takeout. I’m hungry, but it’s rude to eat in front of you, so I brought enough for all of us.” He lifts out a large clear container of vegetables and holds it up. “Including salad since we’re supposed to be taking care of our bodies right now.”
“This is all protein and carbs. It’s fine. Tomorrow’s game will help us work it all off anyway,” I say as I hand Felton a paper plate that Willits took out of the bag.
“I like that justification,” Willits says.
We take several minutes to fill our plates before sitting back. Willits sits in the chair perpendicular to the couch Felton and I are on. I turn the volume on the television up a little so we can hear it but not so loud that we’ll be yelling over it to converse.
“Your sister is still at your house, yeah?” I ask as I munch on a chicken wing.
Willits nods. “Yep.”
“And?” Felton asks. “How’s her girlfriend?”
He shakes his head. “Fine. She’s really sweet, actually.” Willits frowns as he takes another bite. Felton and I exchange a look and don’t ask anything further. After a minute, Willits huffs and looks at us. “I was really hoping she was awful because I don’t want to believe my parents are just homophobic. I’m not sure what else to believe at this point.”
“Well,” I say, trying to find something positive. Is there something positive though? “We’ll do that fake boyfriend thing, yeah? And you can see for yourself.”
Willits gives me an absent smile. “Thanks.”
Not knowing what else to say, I nod. However, my gut clenches at seeing Willits upset. It’s at that moment that I realize how empathetic I am toward my friends. I hate their upset. It feels personal. Not like they’re upset with me but like I want to do something to fix it.
