That isn't fair. Can't she see that I was uncomfortable being unpaired and put in a group where the people in my assigned group weren't particularly welcoming?
I open my mouth to protest. “But—”
“No. You were warned. Get up.”
A rush of shame washes over me, making my chest feel tight and my ears burn. Again, it's not the kind of embarrassment thatI get off on. It's not within my control, and I haven't chased the high of it this time. I'm not properly prepared for it. Add to that how inherently unjust this all feels, and I can feel a full-blown meltdown building at the back of my brain.
I'm not giving these people the satisfaction of seeing me upset, though, and I don’t trust this caregiver to look after me if I lose it.
“Fine,” I snap back, dropping the crumpled leaf on top of my half-formed basket. I push to my feet and raise my chin. “I'm going.”
“Reflect on the camp rules before you sign up for the next activity,” Becky tells me as I start to stomp away. Her tone is frustratingly patronizing. I know I shouldn't bite, but...
“That's rich,” I can't help sniping back. “Considering you totally let them” —I point at James— “callmenames. Or is it only rule breaking if you don't have a Daddy letting it slide, too?”
She narrows her eyes and points towards the path on the other side of the lawn. “I'm not debating this with you. You disrupted the activity for everyone else and leaving is the consequence. Goodbye, Benji.”
Walking away with my head held high, I can't help but compare today's disastrous experience with yesterday. My throat feels tight and my nose is stinging, but I refuse to blink as the world around me starts to blur. If I blink, it will break the seal on my tears. That isnothappening in front of these people.
I wasnotin the wrong. I wasn't. Yes, I was a bit bratty, but that's just who I am as a Middle/Little. It's part of how I regulate. Kris seemed to understand that yesterday, but maybe he's the anomaly after all. Like I told him, most caregivers don't want more than a scene with me, and it's probably because I am too prickly and too much work.
It's only once I'm in the privacy of my cabin that I finally let the tears fall. Collapsing onto the unmade bed, I press my face into the pillow, letting out a frustrated scream. It helps shift some of the pressure in my chest, and to suppress the angry buzz in my head, so I do it again. And again. And again.
This is why I should stick to scene play, I think to myself later as I start to calm down.Less disappointment.
At least during scene play, everything is pre-negotiated. There aren't any surprises, and my scene partners are prepared, too. So what if it's not as fulfilling as slipping into headspace and just being myself? It's less frustrating than the situation I wound up in today.
And that's the crux of the matter, isn't it? I've come to this camp to relax, and instead I left my headspace today feeling frustrated and completely out of whack.
Maybe James was right,I eventually decide, though the words feel bitter even in my own mind.Maybe I should hang out with the Littles instead.
It can't be worse than today, can it?
Chapter Seven
“Well,thatwas a day,” Becky, one of the Mommy volunteers, huffs with a hint of a laugh as she drops down on the bench seat diagonally to my right.
Beside me, Connor chuckles, “Did you have Littles or Middles this afternoon?”
I twirl my spaghetti around my fork, barely paying attention as she replies, “It was supposed to be Middles, but one of the campers should probably have been with the Littles instead.”
“Oh?” Connor asks. “You don't think they know their own headspace? That's...weird.”
It's my buddy's tone that has me focusing on what is actually being said. He's a sweet guy. Placid, usually. A total soft Dom like me. The hint of snark in his voice is concerning. As I chew my mouthful, I turn my head to look at him. He arches an eyebrow, a silent ‘Are you hearing this?’ projected in his eyes.
“He was brattier than any other Middle I’ve come across,” Becky says, and I don’t need to be told that she’s talking about Benji. “Reallychildish.”
“Thisisan age regression camp, Bec,” I sound condescending to my own ears and I scramble to reel my attitude back in. “Allthe regressors are going to be some form of childish.”
“I get that,” she’s snappish, waving her fork around as she complains, “but this one was pouty and ignored my warnings and, worse still, disrupted the activity for everyone else.”
“So…a brat,” Connor fills in helpfully. “How does that make them more Middle than Little?”
I glance across the table in time to watch her lips thinning as she purses them. “It was the way he was bratting. It seemed like a younger headspace than any of the others.”
Connor scoffs before I can. “Okay, so you’ve never seen a Middle throw a full-blown tantrum, then? Because I have. It doesn't mean they’re in a younger headspace. Hell, I’ve seen adults whoaren’tage regressors having complete meltdowns, and I certainly wouldn’t call them childish. Just overwhelmed.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say that Becky looks like she is on the verge of her own temper tantrum, but I keep that to myself. It’s a cruel thought, for one thing. And for another…well, I can admit that I’m being biased and feeling weirdly defensive of Benji.
