Page 8 of Stars Like Confetti

And man, how he had grown. If I thought tomboy Shea was confident, that person had nothing on him now. What I’d seen was only a glimpse of the man beneath, and I couldn’t be happier that he’d finally found his true self, had finally broken free of the prison he’d been living in. Only, what had he been up to? Had he been in Georgia that whole time? Or was he still in that small town in Kentucky that was like something out of a southern TV drama?

I had so many questions, but I couldn’t bombard Shea with them, not until he was ready.

So, I busied myself with other boring admin tasks that evening—checking in with the other caregivers, running over the allergy plans again, and generally finding anything and everything to keep me from gluing myself to the poor guy’s side.

I’d seen him sitting with Tyler at the meeting, who was a VIP member of the Playhouse and had been for quite a few years. He was a good friend for Shea to latch onto. They’d never match romantically, but it was nice that Shea had someone in his corner, considering he was one of the few campers who didn’t know anyone.

I’d have known if he’d been to Playhouse, right?

By the time the sun set, I was utterly exhausted, both physically and emotionally. It had been a long week of preparations, and the discovery of my one who got away sent me into an emotional tailspin. Confident that Jordan and Kaylee could handle any problems that came up, I took myself to bed early. Best part of being an adult if you ask me.

The private cabins were quite a bit smaller than the others, for all the right reasons. They still had animal names, if only to make it easier for the campers—but it was simply fun for me to do. I was in the Stitch cabin—he’s my favorite. Sue me. The personal cabins were far less cartoonish than the main ones, but the signs were there if you looked close enough.

The bedsheets that appeared to be a damask print were actually formed of tiny Stitch heads. Blue, pink, and yellow accents decorated the space, right down to hibiscus flowers in the bathroom.

Instead of stalls like the main cabins, there was a single walk-in shower, a bathtub big enough for two, and a changing table stocked with supplies. I hadn’t been the one to stock or even assign the cabins, but they were all the same regardless.

In the shower, I didn’t even bother turning on the hot water. I loved the sun, but man, I hated the heat. I didn’t like to sweat—not for no reason anyway. The spray was nice and cool, and I found myself lingering just to feel it for a few more minutes. Plus, the quiet and the solitude made room for me to think of him.

I never cared about gender when it came to a partner. What mattered to me was feeling that spark, and with Shea? We’d burn down the world. The only thing that mattered to me was that Shea was happy in whatever body he so desired. I loved him for him, not for his anatomy. I could only hope that he felt the same. While my transition was far less binary than his, I still wasn’t the same person from back then. My hands slid down my body, mapping out the differences. My chest was smaller, thanks to a rigorous workout schedule, though I still had breasts, even if they were flattened from years of binding and less voluminous from hormones. My stomach was more defined, but I wouldn’t go as far as to say I had abs. My arms and legs as well had the slight definition of muscle. All in all, my appearance was more masculine now, even if my anatomy didn’t match.

Trying not to let self-consciousness take root, I turned off the water. I didn’t often feel insecure, but… this was Shea. He was my everything. Even at seventeen, any time I thought of a marriage, or kids—it was him.

It was always him.

Forgoing clothes altogether, I toweled off and crawled into bed. The moment I closed my eyes, a picture of Shea formed, and I drifted off to the image of him.

A few hours later, I was startled awake to the sound of my phone ringing—my camp phone, that only staff and campers had access to. “Theo,” was all I answered with, rubbing sleep from my eyes.

“Sorry to wake you, T.” It was Kaylee, who volunteered for the night shift because she had an insomniatic Little. She was speaking softly to someone sniffling in the background.

“S’fine. What’s up?”

“I’ve got a Little in the Snoopy cabin who’s a bit upset. I tried to console him myself but he’s only asking for you.”

I shot upright in bed. She could only be talking about Shea. I mean, it could possibly be Tyler, but… “I’m on my way.”

I tugged on the closest set of clothes I could find, ending up with a pair of denim cutoffs and a sports bra. Slipping into my hiking boots and grabbing my camp lanyard, I made my way over to the cabin. Gravel crunched underfoot with each step on the path. Most lights were out, save for the odd one or two, and the lights in the dining hall stayed on twenty-four hours a day. During planning, I was fully aware that while this was a summer camp, we were all adults. There was no set bedtime or limits on food—just a place for Littles and caregivers to exist without restraint.

The screen door of the Snoopy cabin was unlocked when I got there, and I opened it quietly. Tyler was awake—barely—scrolling on his phone. He gave me a sleepy smile and a wave when I walked in. A couple lay sleeping in the other bed, seemingly unaware of any disruptions. Shea’s bed was empty. “What’s going on?” I asked softly.

“I woke up to change, and Shea was sitting on one of the shower benches crying. I called Kaylee, but he keeps asking for you.”

I came to a stop next to the bed and brushed his curls out of his eyes. He leaned into the touch. “Did you get changed okay? I can help you, or go get another Daddy if you want.”

He shook his head. “I managed. Thank you.”

He let me take his phone, lock it, and place it on the nightstand. “Go back to sleep, honey.”

He didn’t protest, curling up on his side and drifting off nearly immediately.

Kaylee’s soft voice filtered from the bathroom, and I followed the sound, to the changing area between the shower and the bathtub. Shea, eyes red from crying, lit up when he saw me. “Shh,” Kaylee said. “You don’t want to wake anyone up, do you?”

Shea shook his head and opened his arms up for me. He’d regressed and based on our interaction earlier, he nearly went nonverbal. “I’ve got it Kaylee,” I told her, stepping up to the table. “Get back to Dakota.”

“Thanks.” She squeezed my arm and gave me a look that said, “We’ll be talking about this later.”

“Hey, sweet boy.” I turned to Shea, bringing him into my arms and quietly did my caregiver checks. I patted butt—no diaper, but he was dry so no accident. He didn’t feel warm, so no fever. He clung to me like a lifeline, desperately trying to curl his fists into the tight-fitting material of my sports bra.