Chapter Seven

Bobby

“I’m going on a date, Rooney. What do you think?” I twirled around in front of my stuffie. I was wearing jeans and a sweater—nothing fancy. It was an outside date, so my coat and scarf were going to be over it anyway.

It wasn’t the first time I’d gone on a date since Daddy, but it was the first time I did it because I wanted to. A year after he passed, I’d been pressured by people at work to “take a step out there.” When someone in my apartment building asked me to dinner, I agreed. It was fine—or as fine as it could be. We’d barely started talking before I realized we were complete opposites.

And not in the “opposites attract” kind of way. He liked to go hunting and was looking for someone who wanted to do that with him. That was never going to be me. He thought of home as a place to sleep, which was also never going to be me. It was really easy for us to say goodbye that night and move along.

The second date I went on was an accident. I wasn’t even sure it counted as a date. Someone at work mentioned happy hour, and I thought everybody was going. It turned out, it wasn’t everybody. It was just my coworker and me. Embarrassingly, it took me at least an hour to realize they thought it was a date and another half hour to think to tell them I didn’t. What a disaster that had been.

In a lot of ways, tonight felt like my first real date. Even before I left the house, it was already a thousand times better than the others. For one, I knew we had one thing in common that mattered a lot to me: He didn’t look down on me for being little. If anything, he liked it.

I’d thought a lot about it over the years, even before Daddy—thinking about whether a person not being into the lifestyle was a deal breaker for me or not. I decided long ago that it wasn’t about whether someone could or would be my daddy. That didn’t really matter. What did matter was if they minded me being little. Did I prefer having someone to take care of me? Absolutely. But parallel play was okay too.

In theory, at least. I hadn’t tried it yet, but I’d been playing alone for a long time and it hadn’t been awful. Parallel play could work…probably.

I gave Rooney a hug and put him on the bed. Then I pulled on my coat, zipped and buttoned it, and wrapped my scarf around my neck. It wasn’t the warmest outfit ever, but it would have to do.

Checking the clock, I ran out of the apartment and down to the corner. I planned on taking the bus down to the tree lighting and needed to be there on time. Parking prices were jacked high to the sky in the city. Though I had a car and drove when I needed to, I much preferred not spending all my money on parking.

Even with the cash I pulled in from working at the club, I wasn’t sure I was going to meet my goals. I really couldn’t spend anything, especially since I got my new lease statement. My landlord wanted me to sign now, and I needed to be sure I had the money to move out, or I’d be forced to sign on for another whole year with significantly higher payments . No thank you to that. The bus it was.

I rode it to work every day, so I already had a pass, making it a double win. I made it to the stop just in time to climb on. It was pretty crowded, probably full of people going to the same place I was. Usually, weekend evenings weren’t like this.

We stopped at every single stop to let people on. I watched the time, hoping I’d get there before he arrived. In theory, I would, but something told me he’d feel bad about me taking the bus, and I didn’t want to have to explain being late, which was looking increasingly likely.

Maybe I was just embarrassed. I was a grown adult who wasn’t doing very well in the finance department, and he… I’d seen him in his suit. That wasn’t something off the clearance rack.

When I got there, I met him at the statue as we’d arranged. He had a big smile on his face.

“It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too.” I wasn’t sure if a hug was appropriate, but he looked so snuggly.

I went for it, and he hugged me back. Some guys were weird about public displays. They were fine dating a man, but letting strangers see that? Not so much. I was glad to see he wasn’t one of those, though I would have understood if he was. Society wasn’t always the kindest.

“I hope you weren’t waiting long.” I barely made it on time, but he could be one of those people who thought fifteen minutes early was late.

“No, I got here a few minutes ago. I lucked out with a good parking spot.”

I didn’t respond, not wanting to mention the bus.

“Did you want to wander through the Christmas village first?”

There was a Christmas village? “Yes!” I didn’t even hide my excitement. Why should I? “Is Santa there?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been. Let’s find out.” He held his hand out in an offer, and I took it. I couldn’t feel his skin—our hands were both gloved—but it was nice to have the connection, especially in the crowd.

One of the cobblestone streets to the side had been turned into a little Christmas village, shut off from traffic. There were tents with everything from ornaments to cocoa to roasted chestnuts to displays by different charities. We wandered from one to the next, saying what we liked best and would want Santa to bring us.

I learned about his work; he learned about mine. We talked about why I had a drummer costume, which led us to talking about Santa at the mall and how fascinating it was from a people-watching perspective. He didn’t let go of my hand the entire time. I loved it.

More than once, he asked if we should stop for cocoa, cookies, or s’mores. Each time, I declined—not wanting to admit that an eight-dollar cup of cocoa wasn’t in my budget. I also didn’t want to assume he was paying. We hadn’t really discussed it, and I wasn’t sure how best to respond. So instead, I said I wasn’t thirsty or hungry, and let it go.

I didn’t think too much of it until we were nearly through to the other side, and he stopped and asked, “What did you have for dinner?”

I stared at him. “I haven’t yet.” It would’ve been so easy to lie—to say I’d had a sandwich or cereal or ramen. But there was something about Nick that made me not want to.

“Boys should eat,” he said and then lowered his voice. “Is there something I need to know about your eating? Do you have allergies or a medical thing?”

I realized what he was getting at, and now I was triply embarrassed. He thought I wasn’t eating because of some food-control issue. Not that it would be weird if I did—it just wasn’t true for me. I lacked funds. I had to decide then and there: spend money I didn’t have to ease his worry or tell him the truth?

I opted for the truth.

“Money is really tight right now, and the prices are just…not really something I can manage.”

“I feel bad.” He reached up with his other gloved hand and cupped my cheek. “I thought I’d made it clear that I wanted to take you out. I didn’t mean to put you in a position where you felt like I was asking you to spend money. That’s on me. So here’s me asking you: Will you go out on a date with me? May I take you out?”

The words weren’t any different than when he’d first asked, but now I understood that, to him, they were.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

He gave my hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry I put you in that position. But just so you know, right now I’m going to get kind of pushy.”

“Really?” I tilted my head, amused. “And how’s that?”

“Come with me.” He started walking, our hands still linked as if I had a choice. He led me around the corner and down a small street.

“We’re having dinner,” he said, opening the door to a restaurant. “And I’m making sure you eat a real meal.”

He was being so daddy, and I liked it.