Just thinking about it has my blood boiling. We haven’t goneall the wayyet, my dick still too sensitive to do anythingmore than stroke the tip and the top of it, but I’m dedicated to doing it tonight. I have everything planned, and Raiden doesn’t suspect a thing.
Raiden stops in front of me, his chest heaving and watching me with half lidded eyes as I finish handing out all the snacks.
“And one for the choreographer,” I say teasingly, holding out the banana protein muffin I made, stuffed with chocolate chips. I might have eaten one to make sure they tested good… Okay, it was actually three but they’re decently healthy.
“You mean head choreographer, owner, wrangler of children, and speaker to animals.” He dramatically fans his hand in front of his face, his eyes are bright with laughter.
After he found a family of squirrels in our backyard and has taken to feeding them everyday, he claims himself as the Dr. Doolittle of our house.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Is that not what I said?”
Raiden takes a huge bite of his muffin, smearing chocolate from the chips along his chin and making a mess, before groaning dramatically and fluttering his eyes.
“I don’t even care what you originally said. These are so good, please tell me there’s more.”
“There’s plenty more, and I have some extras I put in the freezer that we should be able to thaw out and eat next week for breakfast since you’ll be so busy.”
“A man after my own heart.” He blows me a kiss, before he gets distracted by one of the kids asking him a question. When the rest of the kids join in, asking Raiden questions about everything under the sun, I leave him to it, double-checking that everyone got a muffin before I go back inside and continue my boyfriend duties of preparing food.
Next week, Raiden is helping the dance team with their tryouts. He’s doing their routine and judging them while they practice, and then again as they perform. He’s been walking around the house sayinga team is only as good as their weakestlink.And reminding himself that he was in their shoes once, remembering how stressful tryouts used to be. On top of all of that, he has his weekly meetings in the backyard with a group of friends he’s made from an online forum. A group of abuse survivors make themselves at home in our backyard once a week, celebrating their growth and enjoying themselves over charcuterie boards and fancy mocktails that I specially craft each week.
Next week I’m going to be busy as well, helping a local group with the new software we’re starting to distribute. Hollis is taking a back seat on this, he and Connor are too busy being lovey dovey to care if the business tanks, but me and Ace are hell- bent on getting this contract with them. They’re working with specific underground organizations to target pedophile rings, and with the new software that Elijah engineered just to backtrack and be able to trace something or another. I still don’t know exactly how it works, but I’m going to talk with them about their plans. Maybe they’ll even let me assist. I have plenty of experience from my time in the military, and I could be of help.
Caught in my own thoughts of how that would even work, a gentle tug breaks me out of my career opportunities.
It’s Mateo, and he’s looking up at me with dark grey eyes, lined with tears.
“What’s wrong, buddy?” I squat down awkwardly, trying to get down to his height so he won’t have to crane his neck to look up at me.
He doesn’t answer, but wraps his arms around me and puts his head on my shoulder. I feel the warm liquid of his tears soaking through my shirt. I rub his shoulder, feeling them tremble with every hiccup he lets out.
The other children are still outside playing, I can hear their loud laughs and squeals as they entertain themselves as I hold this boy from crumbling.
“I don’t fit in,” he finally says, lifting his head away from my shoulder and wiping his nose on his arm. It’s gross, I’m not going to lie, so I stand up and offer him a paper towel from the holder on our counter.
He takes it, grateful, then throws it away when he’s done, coming to stand back in front of me. His eyes are puffy and swollen, but he stands tall as he looks at me. There’s still a small tremor in his shoulders, but I admire his resilience as he squares his shoulders and speaks his words clearer this time. “I don’t fit in with the other kids. They’re all so good and I’m not.”
I’m confused at what he’s talking about, not realizing that it’s about Raiden’s dance class until I hear the music coming from our outdoor stereo and Mateo’s eyes well up again.
“You’re amazing, Mateo. I’m sure Mr. Raiden thinks so too, but the most important thing is that you’re having fun.” Isn’t that what I’m supposed to tell kids? It’s not about the finish line but the journey there?
“I don’t know if I’m having fun either.” He looks so pitiful, I pull him into my arms, and rub my knuckles across his head, messing up his dark hair.
“If you’re not having fun, don’t do it anymore. You should be having fun.”
His face blushes and he hides it away from me and I realize the real root of the problem. Oh god, how young do kids start having boy problems? Mateo is the same age as Damon, and Damon is seven. Is that too young?
That’s way too young.
“Maybe… Mr. Raiden could help you? If you tell him what you need, he can be really nice and show you until you understand,” I offer lamely.
“I can do what?” Said man asks, breezing into the kitchen and thieving another muffin from the cooling rack.
“You can help Mateo, he’s struggling with some things and I think he could use your help.” Translation: I have no clue howto comfort children and the only child I have experience with is Sophia and at least I knew her well enough that I could sayhey, might have accidentally said something awful to your kid today, might want to check in with him before bedtime and make sure I didn’t traumatize him.I don’t think I can do that with other people’s kids.
Raiden immediately jumps from playful Raiden to his Mr. Raiden persona, the man who is in charge of making sure children don’t get hurt on his watch but also manage to have fun at the same time.
“Let’s go to the studio, and we can figure it out.” He extends his hand to the little boy, waiting for him to take it before they walk out the door. Before they disappear from earshot I hear Mateo ask, “Can we invite Damon too?”
