My frustration grew. Shoving the cube back into my pencil case, I leaned down to where my bag sat on the floor and pulled out my crocheting. I slipped the leather strap of the portable yarn holder over my wrist. The moment I wrapped the yarn over the hook and made the first stitch my mind settled and I was finally able to focus on what Professor Easton was teaching for the rest of the class. It wasn’t until the bell rang and I started packing up that my thoughts picked up speed again. Switching to my favorite distraction: Eric.
The first time Eric had taken me shopping for crochet supplies, he’d told me about an article he’d recently read online that mentioned how crocheting, knitting and other crafts couldbe beneficial for autistics and ADHDers. He’d asked if I would be willing to help him explore the question more. Of course I’d agreed. He’d reached out to the researcher who’d published the article he’d seen and began working with her on it. While they quickly establish that crafts, crocheting in particular, were beneficial in several ways to neurodiverse people, they also discovered a major drawback. A lot of the people they’d interviewed for the project had reported they had developed conditions like tennis elbow or other repetitive-strain type injuries in their wrists, hands or arms.
While I’d now been crocheting for over ten years and so far didn’t have any long-term issues with my hands or arms, I could remember many times when my need to crochet had been more of a compulsion than a craft I was doing for fun. I knew how, especially when I was overwhelmed or stressed, I could hyper-focus on my crocheting and lose all track of time. After those sessions, my wrists or fingers would ache. I could see how if someone did that regularly, repetitive-strain injuries could occur as a result.
Ways to prevent, or at least limit, the chances of injury were what Eric was currently looking into. He’d discovered even small things like the portable yarn holder he’d found for me, could help. A simple upside-down T shaped piece of plastic that you pushed through the center of a skein of yarn, before clipping the wrist strap onto the top. It was light and easy to use. Eric had found it when he went looking for a solution to how tense I’d get trying to keep the moving skein of yarn from falling from my lap as I crocheted, or if I was moving around, I’d contort my hand to keep hold of the yarn while I continued to crochet. Another change he’d implemented had been to replace all my hooks with ergonomic ones that had thicker handles shaped to fit in my hand better. I’d been surprised at how much they helped. Notonly because they were easier to hold, but they also prevented the cramping that used to happen after long crocheting sessions.
Once I had everything packed away, I took out the gift I’d made and held it hidden within my palms as I waited for all the other students to leave before I headed toward the front of the classroom where Professor Easton was sitting behind his desk. He had a beard like Eric did, but the professor’s was gray. I had some classes with his Little, Lizzie, who called him hersilver fox hottie. His reputation was that he was one of the sterner professors, who rarely smiled when working and ran a strict classroom. When I’d first started taking his class, he’d terrified me and I’d tried so hard to be good, to not do anything that might upset him or earn me a demerit slip. Unfortunately, that resulted in me being so focused on behaving and looking like the perfect student, that I’d not had any bandwidth left to actually listen to anything he was trying to teach.
My carefully created mask had completely shattered on me last week when we’d had a test and I’d taken one look at the questions and had panicked. I hadn’t been able to answer more than one or two. My panic attack quickly spiraled out of control, made worse because I’d been sure Professor Easton would be angry and yell at me or call me names like my stepfather used to do, or give me a dreaded demerit slip, or maybe even demand I be spanked.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. Within minutes of me beginning to rock in my chair, tears streaming down my face, he’d come over and crouched down beside my desk. He hadn’t raised his voice at all, instead he’d spoken quietly. Calmly telling me that I was okay, I was safe. That he’d messaged Eric and he was on his way. He’d stayed beside me, reassuring me in that gentle tone, that Eric would be here soon. He hadn’t tried to touch me, not even to pat my hand. Like someone had told him I couldn’t handle anyone but Eric touching me. He’d been kindand respectful; he hadn’t told me to quit being childish, that I should be able to just stop. He’d simply stayed close like a shield, making sure I stayed safe until Eric arrived and took me to the sensory room.
The next day, Eric had joined me in Professor Easton’s office and we’d created a plan to help me learn what I hadn’t understood from previous lessons, along with putting some accommodations in place to make sure I could pay attention going forward. Thanks to that meeting, I knew I could crochet in his class without getting a demerit slip.
Remembering how Lizzie had mentioned that her Daddy loved dragons when she’d seen me with Kimori for the first time, I’d decided to make him one as a thank you. But I hadn’t wanted to give it to him in front of everyone, didn’t want the other students to witness this moment, just in case he didn’t like my small offering.
After making sure the dragon was completely hidden from view in my hands, I made my way to stand beside his desk, chewing on my lip as nerves threatened to have me running from the room before he noticed me standing there. He looked up and his expression softened when he saw me.
“Hello, Calla, did you need some help with what we covered today?”
I shook my head before I signed thank you, then holding my breath, reached forward and set the small pocket-sized crocheted dragon in the middle of his desk. I’d used steel gray yarn for the body and a bright electric blue for the wing webbing and spikes.
I blew out my breath in relief when, with a broad grin, he picked the little dragon up. He then set it on his palm to hold up so he could take a closer look.
“Oh! Calla, you didn’t have to do this. I’m always happy to help a student who wants to learn. But thank you, sweetheart.He’s amazing. I have no idea how you get all the stitches so small or so neat, you certainly have a talent for crocheting.”
There was a knock on the door and I looked over to see Eric filling the doorway smiling over at me.
“Hey, Eric, have you seen what your girl made me?”
He nodded as he stepped inside. “She was very excited to give it to you once she’d finished it last night. I’m glad you like it.”
Professor Easton shook his head. “What’s not to like? I love it, Calla. I’m guessing my little Lizzie told you I had a thing for dragons?”
I nodded, heat racing across my cheeks as I shuffled my feet. I wasn’t sure how to end this conversation once I’d handed my gift over. Now that Eric was here, I was ready to leave. He’d told me this morning that he had a surprise to show me after class, and that we’d need to drive to get there. It’d been the main reason why I’d been so distracted all day today, wondering what the surprise could be.
“Well, thanks again, Calla. I will treasure my little dragon. Now you best run along with your Daddy, I believe you’re in for a special weekend.”
I gave another nod and more heat flared in my face as Eric took my hand with a chuckle and walked me from the classroom out into the mostly empty hallway. Clearly Professor Easton knew about Eric’s surprise, but that wasn’t what my mind was stuck on. Was Eric my Daddy? Professor Easton wasn’t the first teacher to refer to him in that way, but he was the first to say it in front of Eric. I’d learned a lot about the Daddy/Little dynamic since moving to Rawhide Ranch. Spent a lot of time watching how different couples lived within the lifestyle. I’d even spent time in the Littles’ Wing, exploring if I fit in there. It hadn’t taken me long to know the nursery was not for me. I couldn’t imagine wearing a nappy or being put to bed in a cot with a bottle. But the older Littles, who got to color and make crafts, takeafternoon naps and then skip up to get cuddles from their Daddy or Mommy when they came to pick them up at the end of the day—that I had liked a lot. Even if I hadn’t been brave enough to actually skip up to Eric for a cuddle when he’d come to get me.
I liked how the Littles were so free to be themselves, no matter how silly that was. They didn’t need to worry about going too far or what anyone would say because they trusted that their Daddy or Mommy would keep them protected and safe.
Eric had certainly filled that role for me from the moment I’d arrived at Rawhide. How would he react if I did call him Daddy? I hadn’t spoken out loud to him at all yet, but I wanted to. Was desperate to see his expression soften and his gaze warm with affection, like I’d seen the other Daddies do when their Littles called them by their title. Would signing it have the same affect? I wasn’t sure. A fingertip gliding over my cheek, leaving tingles in its wake as it tucked my hair behind my ear, cleared my mind. My face heated again as I realized we’d walked all the way to my dorm room while I’d been stuck in my head.
“Welcome back, sweet one. I need you to get changed out of your uniform, and don’t forget to wear a sweater. I’ll wait for you in the common area.” He grinned, excitement radiating from him. “I can’t wait to show you the surprise.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my temple before he strode out, closing the door behind him.
Ten minutes later, I was sitting in the front passenger seat of 004, Eric’s little Aston Martin, as he drove us out through the main gates of the Ranch and onto the road. Instead of watching the scenery as I normally did when we went out, I turned to face him, taking in his freshly trimmed beard and hair. He must have gotten it cut this morning after he walked me to my first class of the day because at breakfast this morning it hadn’t looked like it did now.
While his smile was the usual one he wore when he was driving 004, the tense set of his shoulders and tight grip on the steering wheel were not normal. He was nervous about something. He’d not given me a single hint about what his big surprise was, so I had no idea what it could be. And assuming it was his big reveal that was making him nervous, I was getting worried. Did he think I wasn’t going to like whatever it was? Because that was unlikely. Since meeting Eric two months ago, he had yet to do anything I didn’t like. Well, there was the time he’d tried to make me eat avocado. It had been green and slimy, and looked like snot. No way was I ever going to eat that. But aside from that, he’d been very in tune with me, always seeming to know just what I needed, or wanted, sometimes before I did.
The car slowed and I turned to see a large set of gates in front of us beginning to open. A sign beside it read “The Ridge”. It was a name I’d heard in conversation several times around the Ranch. A lot of the staff seemed to live here. Once we passed through, the gates closed behind us and Eric reached over to squeeze my hand for a moment before he released me to change gears as he sped back up.
“Nearly there, sweet one.”
Lifting the heart necklace, I chewed on the edge as we went over a rise and houses and businesses started to dot the landscape as we continued to drive. Was he taking me to meet someone? Had my meltdown during class last week been too much for him? Had I embarrassed him so badly he wanted to hand my care over to someone else?
Squeezing my eyes tightly closed, I tightened my hold on Kimori.
