Even now, hours later, just the thought of what he said makes my cock twitch. It gives me that feeling you get when you’re doing something mundane, something every day and normal, but you know that later, something you’ve really been looking forward to is going to happen. I used to get that feeling all the time when I was a kid, especially when I managed to convince myself that my dad would be coming to see me. It wasn’t just my dad. It also happened when I was expecting a call from a girl or a guy I liked or something like that.
Ultimately, as I got older, I learned to ignore it. It took a long time, but eventually, I got there. That’s what happens when you get let down one too many times.
Now the feeling is back, and it’s stronger than ever before.
The fact that what I’m looking forward to is essentially a damn good hiding from a man who gets on my last nerve isn’t lost on me. I’m not at all pleased about it. I know it’s insane. It’s probably one of the stupider things I’ve done in my life, and that’s saying something. I’d love to stop it or find some way to come to my senses. It’s just that the jitters and rushes are considerably overpowering rational thought, which puts me at a really big fucking disadvantage.
You’d think I’d be more concerned about this glaring lack of reason. You’d think I’d be panicking or doing something practical like calling Luke or Wyn and telling them what’s happening and trying to get them to talk some sense into me. The thing is, I have two speeds in my life: overthinking everything in existence or not thinking things through in the slightest.
There’s no in-between.
I’d love it if there was, but there isn’t.
It’s all right. I’m used to it, I guess.
Stuart is waiting for me when I get home. He stands on the porch with his arms crossed over his chest, squinting into the late afternoon sun. He holds the door open for me and leads me into the study. The excitement that’s been with me all day curdles, cooling and thickening, rapidly spiraling into nerves. I sit beside him on the dining chair he’s placed next to his big leather swivel chair.
The study is like the rest of the house, well-finished with timber floors and high-quality joinery. Unlike the rest of the house, which feels homey and inviting, the study is somber. The walls are painted a dusty sage-green and the desk is imposing. A gallery of photographs on the wall behind the desk hangs with such symmetry and precision that I can’t imagine how the effect was achieved without the extensive use of AI. My eye immediately lands on a picture of Stuart and my dad sitting side-by-side on the beach. They look to be in their early twenties. They both have over-long hair and are tanned so dark their teeth seem artificially white. My dad has a huge, shit-eating grin on his face and Stuart is eyeing the camera warily. There are a few pictures of Stuart and a blonde woman who bears a strong resemblance to him, two of an older couple—possibly his parents—and one of a dark-haired man holding Sadie and laughing as she tries to lick his face.
Stuart lays two pieces of paper out on the desk in front of me and says, “This is a rough idea. Nothing is set in stone until you’re completely sure you’re happy with it.”
Excitement, nerves, fear, and a strong sense ofwhat the fuck is going on with my lifemash together and make forming a coherent sentence not an option for me at present.
I read the words before me and then watch as they swim on the page.
Be respectful
Be considerate
Be obedient
All of them offend me in equal measure. The implication that I’m none of these things is painfully clear. The thought of it makes my skin feel prickly, and I’m suddenly unsure whether arousal or annoyance is my dominant reaction. I want to argue. I can feel the words rising in my throat, but I can tell that the tone I’d use would be a clear breach of rules one, two, and possibly three.
I manage to bite them back, but it takes a concerted effort.
I scan through the second page. The rules listed are things like:
Take your shoes off when you enter the home
Hang your work bag at the door
Eat a good breakfast
Watch the attitude at all times
Do not feed Sadie treats (I’ve seen you)
Prepare dinner twice per week
Load and unload the dishwasher every other day (Don’t forget to use a tablet)
Help with the laundry
Don’t leave your clothes on the floor
Do not roll your eyes at me
Get to bed at a reasonable hour from Monday through Thursday
