8. Arlo

CHAPTER 8

Arlo

I don't realize what's happening before it's too late. I'm so horrified when the knowledge that I've been pickpocketed hits me that I don't understand what Thomas is doing.

Until he's bolting after the thieves.

"No!" I cry, immediately chasing after him.

It's not that I don't want my property back. But yesterday he didn't even want to play-race me back to our villas. Now he's sprinting through this market like he's James Bond and they've just stolen the nuclear codes.

It's incredibly admirable, and there's a part of me that swells with pride that he would do that for me.

But that all vanishes as soon as he stumbles to a halt, clutching his knee. Even from a dozen feet away, I can see the grimace on his face.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry!" I say as I rush up to him, already worried that he's going to be mad at me. He shakes his head and frowns at me.

"Aw, kid, I'm sorry. Those bastards got your wallet, and I couldn't catch them. Fuck!" He looks so mad, and my heart stutters in my chest.

"Your knee," I whimper miserably.

But he waves his hand and straightens up. "Nothing a bit of ice won't fix, I'm sure," he says dismissively, although I'm not convinced. "I hope you didn't have much money on you."

"To buy ice?" I say. Then I realize how stupid that is. If we have to buy ice, Thomas still has his wallet and…

Oh…

Oh no.

"They took my wallet," I say as the gravity of the situation dawns on me. My hand is already shaking as I clamp it over my mouth, tears springing into my eyes. I am so fucked!

"Hey, hey," Thomas says urgently. It's like he forgets about his pain in a second as he grabs my shoulders and looks at me with concern. "Sweetheart, it's fine."

I shake my head, but I can't make the words come out. Thomas glances around, spying a little coffee place with a free table outside, so he steers us to sit down. It's a good plan for both of us, as he obviously needs to take the weight off his knee, and I feel like I'm about to pass out. I think he maybe signals to someone to order drinks, but I'm too busy spiraling to really be sure.

"Arlo," Thomas says firmly. "Arlo, please look at me." When I do, he smiles so brightly at me that for a second I think he's right. Things really will be okay. "There we go. Good boy. Now, I'm so sorry that just happened to you, but believe me when I say it's just money. The resort is all inclusive anyway, and if you want to buy anything more at the market, Daddy will take care of it."

I blink and hiccup, guilt and awe warring within me. I love that he wants to do that, but I've only known him a day. I couldn't possibly impose upon him like that. We'd only just finished our food and haven't even started shopping yet. I wanted to get some things for Jolly but also some silly trinkets for me. Who knows if I'll ever get the chance to take a holiday like this again, and I wanted some souvenirs to remember it by.

But that's really not the problem at hand.

I gulp down air and try to form some words. Thomas is still shaking his head. "Baby, please believe me when I say that it's not a problem at all. I've got plenty of money. I really want to make this okay, and there's nothing here I wouldn't buy if it would make you smile again."

Biting my lip, I try to offer him a smile. "That's so sweet," I manage to whisper. "Thank you. But…"

He brushes his thumb against my cheeks, wiping the tears away. It's so gentle and intimate it takes my breath. For a second, I just stare at him. He's the one in pain, yet he's looking at me like his only concern in the whole world is my wellbeing.

I'm so stupid. Why didn't I think like a proper adult? It's all well and good wanting to be a little and shirk my responsibilities, but the fact is that I'm a grown-up. Mummy and Pa are right. It's my duty to inherit the company and continue the family name with honor, but the truth is that I'm a useless baby who can't be trusted with anything and?—

"Arlo!" Thomas snaps firmly. I wonder if it's not the first time he said my name just then. But if he wanted my attention, he's got it. I blink and take a deep breath. He'd had his hands on either side of my face, but as a waitress approaches with a tray, I pull back both to give her room and to put a bit of distance between Thomas and myself.

It was feeling a tad too intimate for a public space.

I clear my throat and thank the waitress as she places two coffees in front of us. There doesn't look to be any milk, but there is sugar which I think is what I need right now. Thomas needs something else as well, though.

"Um, excuse me," I say as the waitress goes to leave. "Do you have any ice?"

She raises her eyebrows and looks between me and my drink. "You want iced coffee instead?" she says amicably.

I wave my hands. "Oh, no. I'm sorry. My friend hurt his leg." I point to Thomas's knee.

"Oh!" the waitress says with an understanding smile. "Of course. One minute, please."

I think it's amazing how everyone seems to be able to speak at least a little English here, if not fluently. I did French and Latin at school, and I was terrible at both no matter how hard I tried.

After the waitress bustles back inside the little café, I look back to see Thomas smiling at me, but there's something else on his face as well that I can't quite read. "Sorry, did I overstep?" I ask.

He shakes his head and sighs, but I think it's a happy noise. "You're just a very special boy, Arlo. I should be taking care of you, not the other way around."

And just like that, all my panic and shame come rushing back. "You've only known me a couple of days," I insist, feeling my cheeks flushing and my eyes stinging with tears. "I don't want to be your problem."

But the truth is that I don't know what the hell I'm going to do. This is a disaster. Am I going to have to call home and ask for help?

The mere thought makes me inhale sharply, and my hands start shaking again. If I have to admit where I am and what I was doing…I don't think my parents will ever let me live down the disgrace. Preemptive humiliation washes over me.

The only thing that snaps me out of it is Thomas gripping my hand and squeezing it tight. I blink and realize that the waitress must have already returned and left again because in his other hand is a cloth bundled against his knee, and I assume it's got a plastic bag of ice wrapped up inside of it.

"Arlo, you are not a problem," Thomas tells me firmly. "When I said I wanted to be a Daddy on this getaway, I meant it. And yeah, that means nice things like packing you snacks and making sure you're covered in enough sunscreen. But honestly? If I get to help you with a real emergency, that's like a dream to me. Not that I want you to be in trouble," he adds with raised eyebrows to clarify. "But this is what I've longed for. I need to be needed. So you are not a burden or a problem, okay?"

Taking a shaky breath, I nod. But he doesn't understand the extent of the situation, and he won't until I tell him.

Bloody hell, how could I have been so irresponsible?

"Thomas," I say heavily. "I…I haven't traveled much. I think I'm a bit na?ve. I thought…I really wasn't sure about trusting the hotel safe. I thought it would be better to keep everything on me. But I didn't even feel that boy lift the wallet from my pocket." I scowl bitterly and try to blink away any more tears.

Thomas doesn't seem perturbed as he reaches up and cups the side of my face again. "So you had all your money on you," he guesses.

I nod miserably. "Those boys are going to be so happy when they realize they've hit the jackpot."

"Fuck them," Thomas growls with such force it shocks me out of my fugue for a moment. "I told you—money isn't a problem for me. I'm so sorry you were violated like that, but you really don't have to give it a second thought."

"I had almost a thousand pounds in Rupiah on me," I admit feebly. How could I have been so foolish?

But when I peek back at Thomas, his expression hasn't shifted. I don't understand.

"Don't you work for a charity?" I ask, trying to make sense of his reaction. That's a lot of money! Not for Mummy and Pa, obviously. But I worked hard to save all that up, and now it's just gone.

Unfortunately, he laughs. It's not unkind in the slightest, but it doesn't do anything to explain what's going on. "I had a different job before that, sweetheart," he says, stroking my cheek. It sends butterflies through my chest. "I don't want to be a dick about it, but I really can take care of you. Hell, if I thought you'd let me, I'd withdraw that right outta an ATM for you this second."

"No, no!" I splutter. I definitely don't want that. But…okay. So perhaps he's telling the truth, and I really don't have to fret so much about accepting his extremely kind offer to help me out with the money situation.

He takes his hand off my face to hold it up in a gesture of defeat, chuckling. "I know, I know. But would you at least consider allowing me to be your sugar Daddy, just for today? We came here to go shopping, after all."

He winks, and I wish it were that simple. In fact, that could have been quite fun if it hadn't started in disaster. But we can't buy what I need here.

"I…I…" My throat has clamped up again as I struggle to maintain control over my emotions. I need to be strong. I need to be responsible. But all I want to do is crumple to the ground and wail.

"Arlo," Thomas says with such compassion it makes my heart shudder and my lower lip wobble. "Talk to me."

"That wasn't actually my wallet," I blurt out. "I was just using it as one."

Thomas frowns. "Then what was it, sweetheart?"

I take a shaky breath and make myself look into his brown eyes despite the shame that's engulfing me. "It was my passport holder," I utter, feeling like I'm unraveling. "They didn't just get my money. They got my room key card and my passport, too. I'm stranded here. I can't get back to England."

With that, I burst into tears again.