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I won’t deny that a small part of me deflates. Our kiss proved that our spark as teenagers hasn’t vanished despite the time we’ve spent apart. We still have a connection. I’m as attracted to him as I ever was, possibly more so. Although I know that’s in part superficial. I can see how gorgeous and ripped he is. I haven’t talked to him long enough to know if this new, mature version of Tanner has a beautiful personality to match.
I smile. “You’re looking out for me already, Daddy.” Calling him that is as natural as breathing, which is odd. It took me ages to get used to calling Rex, my ex, Daddy.
“Of course I am.” He straightens his knees so he’s towering above me once more. “I saw a sign for a chill-out room upstairs. Do you want to talk?”
He holds his hand out. I take it and let him lead me up a spiral staircase, abandoning what’s left of my drink. There are more bookcases upstairs. We go through the door marked Chill-out room and find ourselves in a dark, cosy room with comfy armchairs and chaise lounges, along with two water fountains and a supply of glasses. There are signs informing us of the rules. Heavy petting is okay, but full nudity and sexual acts are not.
We find an empty chaise lounge and sit. I go to sit beside him, but he shakes his head and pats his lap.
“Please sit here, boy.”
My lashes flutter as a shiver runs through me. Hearing him call me boy is almost magical. It stirs something inside me. Old feelings resurface, coupled with something new and tantalising. It reminds me of how he used to call me baby. There was always a possessive bite in how he said it, which made my knees weak. I liked feeling like I was his. Like I belonged to him and only him. Wanting to feel that way again, if only for the evening, I sit across his thighs with my feet on the chaise lounge and my arms around his neck. He puts his arm around my waist and rests his other hand on my knee. His grip has a firmness to it that makes me feel wanted and protected, as though he knows it’s what I need and crave.
Maybe he does. He is a Daddy after all. I gravitated towards being a boy because I want to be taken care of. I want someone to hold me and make everything okay. I rest my cheek on his broad shoulder. He tightens his grip and strokes his over my hip, just above the waistband of my jeans. The gentle thud of his heart and the warm puff of his breath against my skin calms my emotions. I’d be content if we did nothing but sit like this until The Library closes.
There’s something safe and familiar about being this close to him, though physically he’s changed so much. He was always tall, and he’d bulked out quite a bit by the time he was eighteen, but now he’s a mountain of a man. I can tell from the firmness of his chest and arms that it’s all muscle. He must be a total powerhouse on the rugby pitch. And in bed. My face flushes with heat.
“We used to sit like this in our spot. Do you remember?” Tanner asks.
“Yes.”
I close my eyes and allow my imagination to transport me back to spending lazy summer afternoons at our spot. We’d take picnic blankets, blow-up cushions, a bike pump, and snacks and drinks. We’d spend all day there, talking and dreaming of the future. I’d sit on his lap, and we’d kiss. We’d joke that we were practising our technique, but we couldn’t get enough of each other. I’m not sure why we felt the need to make excuses, but it was a rhythm we fell into.
“We spent a lot of time like this in my room when you came over while my parents were out,” I recall.
There was nothing cosier than sitting on Tanner’s lap on my bed, holding each other. Even though my parents weren’t in, Tanner would sneak in through the back, hoping my neighbours wouldn’t spot him. If they did, they never said anything to my parents or me.
“We did a lot more than that in your room,” he says with a fondness in his voice that makes my heart quiver.
“We did.”
Most of our firsts happened in my bedroom. Not that we did anything more than kiss until we became legal. Even then, it took us a long time to work up to doing much more than heavy petting.
“I’ve got so many happy memories of being with you,” Tanner says.
“Me too.”
“Do you fancy taking a trip down memory lane?”
I laugh. “That sounds like something Gran would say. But yeah, I’d like that.”
We spend the next few hours talking, reliving our happiest shared memories. We laugh, and I shed a few more tears.
“This is fun,” Tanner says.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“No, it is. I knew I missed you, but I didn’t realise how much. Being here with you tonight, talking through all these memories, reminds me how much you meant to me.”
“And how much it hurt when it all ended?”
“Yes. My heart hurt so much I thought I was dying.” I hold my hand up. “Yes, I know, I was being a dramatic teenager. But I was convinced you were my future, Tanner. My one true love.” I sigh. “I guess everything feels all-encompassing when you’re eighteen.”
“Yes.”
“The trouble is, as wonderful as revisiting those memories is, all those moments happened secretly. My parents still don’t know who I was supposed to take me to the sixth-form prom.”
