We are part of a Daddy/Little group, all close friends. I'm a daddy, and Grayson's a little. We will play together sometimes because it fills the void we both have, but the desire to be more than friends is not there for either of us. We are sort of each other's safe space to explore. We have our limits, and neither of us is comfortable doing more than a playdate. He can relax, and I can fill the nurturing side of me. Although taking care of twenty-three six-year-olds daily fulfills a lot of the void most days.
I finish wiping the mess from the table into my palm, and Grayson rights the chair on the other side, pushing it under the table. I stand to dump the debris from my hand into the trash.
"In other news," I tell Grayson, "my classroom isn't as disastrous as my date last night."
"And that's the juicy story I came down to hear about," he claps his hands together and does this little squeal. "Let me guess…he was on his phone the whole night?"
"Worse, Grayson. So much worse." I shake my head, remembering the date that I couldn't escape fast enough.
"Oh, do tell," he holds his hands together like he's in prayer before taping his fingers together impatiently. Or evilly.
"Which part do you want to hear about first…his obsessive talking about his ex, or when he pulled out his phone to scroll through picture after picture of his cat wearing different crocheted hats? That he made." I pick up some pieces of paper from the floor just so I don't have to look at him. What would I see? Pity? Amusement? When I finally look over at him, his mouth is agape. "Actual hats, Grayson."
He can no longer contain his laughter.
"I'm glad my pain is your entertainment," I tell him, trying to fight back my own laughter at the situation. "I hope you get a cramp." My words lack any real venom.
"I'm sorry, it's just–" and he doesn't get to finish because his laughter starts all over again.
"I mean, I've seen these cats on Instagram and of course they're cute and entertaining, I just wasn't expecting my evening to be spent discussing his cat, his ex, or these stupid hats." I drop the trash from my hand into the bin before pumping somehands-itizer, as my kids call it, into my palm.
Unlike my dating life, at least my classroom is back together.
Grayson's hearty laugh echoes through the otherwise silent room. "Oh, Jason, my poor, sweet friend. You attract the mosteccentric creatures; tiny hats and all. At least he's passionate about something." He grins, picking up a worksheet from the tray on my desk before showing it to me. "Maybe you can teach him to count goldfish crackers next time."
"Get out." I deadpan with no bite to my words.
"Seriously. Let it go, enjoy the entertainment value of the disastrous date," he says with his arms spread wide. I step into them and enjoy the hug that I needed more than I knew. "You know the right guy is out there for you. Just be patient. Any guy would be lucky to have you," he tells me, seriousness lacing his words.
I wipe a rogue tear from my cheek; it must be from the laughter and not sadness. "Thanks, Gray. Same for you. You're going to make a daddy very happy one day as well."
"Oh, please, don't try to marry me off just yet. I need to play the field for a while." He jokes, but the words don't reach his eyes. "I just don't want to miss out on anything by being tied down. Unless I amliterallybeing tied down." He winks.
"And speaking of things not to miss out on," Grayson cocks a brow at my words, "tonight is Shaun's night to host this month's get-together, and he chose that new bar that opened up last month."
"You mean The Vault?" Grayson asks with a grin.
"That's it," I snap my fingers all dramatically. "I couldn't remember the name." The widest grin crosses his face. "What's with the Cheshire grin?"
"Nothing. The Vault just…um… plays good music."
"Bull," I tell him before mouthing the wordshitso little ears don't hear, just in case someone is lingering in the hallway outside the door.
Grayson opens his mouth to respond, but the bell rings, cutting him off. "Saved by the bell. Gotta go get my scholars from PE," he calls over his shoulder as he retreats for the hallway.
"This isn't over," I call out with a chuckle. Still, he's already halfway down the hallway when I turn in the opposite direction to gather my students from recess.
Walking through the crowd of laughter and clinking glasses, Grayson nudges me gently in the direction of our group. The usual suspects were already here.
"Hey, guys," I greet the table of couples. The whole lot of them start talking to me at once, and it warms something inside me. I may not have a boy of my own, but I have this mismatched group. Grayson leaves my side to talk to Caleb and Barrett on the other side of the table, and I find an empty spot next to Noah.
"How's school going?" Noah asks as I settle in for a night with friends.
"Like herding feral cats," I tell him, taking a long pull of my beer.
"That bad?" He sips from his bottle as well.
"Naw, they're six. They are trying to navigate the world, and I'm glad I can be there to help guide them in some small way, messes and all." I pick at the label on the bottle.
