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“Maggie, are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Opening her eyes, she stared down at him. “Lots of adults have toys that they cuddle. And act like they’re real. With feelings. It’s called being lonely and pathetic.”
Shoot. Was it better to be known as lonely and pathetic than to have people know she was a Little?
Monkeyballs. She wasn’t sure.
“Lonely and pathetic?” he repeated. “You will not talk about yourself like that.”
Sheesh. So bossy.
He reached up as though he was going to touch her, then dropped his hand.
What?
Did he not want to touch her now that he realized she cuddled a soft toy?
It wasn’t like Ziggy was her emotional crutch who made her feel better when she touched him.
Oh.
Wait.
Scratch that. He was totally that.
Think, Maggie.
How to distract him from this turn of events?
“I thought you had found my vibrator,” she blurted out.
Perfect.
You get ten out of ten for completely humiliating yourself.
Closing her eyes again, she tried to count backward from ten.
That didn’t just happen. Please say that didn’t just happen.
Ian cleared his throat.
“I’m going to need you to turn around, leave this room, and pretend you never met me.”
“Maggie,” he said in a soft voice.
What was happening right now? Ian didn’t have a soft voice. She must be delirious. Or maybe it was because this was a dream.
“None of this happened,” she whispered in a low croon. “This was all just a dream.”
“Look at me, Little Misfit.” He was still talking to her in that gentle voice.
Now it was just getting bizarre.
“You need to go now,” she told him. “We will never talk of this.”
“Look at me.”
“Nope. That’s not happening. If I don’t look at you, then none of this happened. Go. Shoo. Scram. Vamoose.”
