Page 9 of BJ’s Lost Crayons (Found by Daddy #13)

BJ

My phone buzzed in my pocket during my meeting, but I ignored it. It wasn’t a really important meeting—we were just discussing how far along we were on our current project, and if we thought the timeline needed to be adjusted.

Our current project manager, Callie, wasn’t exactly good at the whole managing part. She was nice, though, and treated us like people, not robots, so there was that. And I was getting paid. Still, an email would have been so much easier.

I was surprised by how late it was when I got back to my desk. Nearly lunchtime, and I still had most of my to-do list to tackle. I took out my phone to place my order at the deli across the street to avoid waiting in their long line and saw the notification.

It was from Glenn—or, as my phone put it, Hot Moving Daddy .

Are you free for dinner tomorrow? My treat.

And fuck it—I wasn’t.

No. I punctuated it with a sad face emoji. I have a work thing. Stupid work.

To my surprise, he answered almost instantly with, Is there a day that works better for you?

He wasn’t playing games, like most guys I’d dated. I wasn’t going to be punished for turning him down. I didn’t need to wait hours for him to reply. This guy was such a green flag, minus the he-might-be-straight part.

And because I was me, I typed back, I’m free tonight .

So much for playing hard to get, but why should I. He wasn’t playing games with me as far as I could tell. There was no need for any cat-and-mouse action.

If this was even a date. He did have a little who was a woman, so maybe it wasn’t a date. Maybe he just wanted to be friends. Although, at the club he acted like he was possibly interested in more, didn’t he? Maybe I should just man up and ask him.

Does seven work for you? I can pick you up.

It did work for me, and I let him know. I nearly forgot to order my lunch in the process, only remembering when my cubical mate asked me if I was heading down to grab food.

I was going out with the hot daddy on a maybe date. A probably date. I wasn’t sure. Why was communicating so hard?

The rest of my day dragged on.

Every task I had seemed to take forever. Every conversation on the phone lasted a lifetime. And, finally, it was time for me to go home.

I was barely in the door when I had Derek’s number pulled up, and I called him, putting him on speaker.

“You’re call-calling. Why?” He wasn’t playing games, a text me if you need to call me kind of guy.

“Because I need to get ready, but I also need to talk to you. You sound better.”

His sister had messaged me before I even got to the club to let me know that he’d gotten his breathing treatment, so I’d already known he was on the mend, but it was nice to hear his voice.

He was kind of irresponsible when it came to his asthma, and I hated that for him.

He was going to need a pretty strict daddy if he ever put himself out there to get one.

“I am. Now, did you think you could just skip over what you are getting ready for?”

“I’m going on a date. Maybe. That’s what I wanted to ask you about.”

And so I told him everything, and he concluded that it was a date. I had to agree, or maybe it was wishful thinking. In the end, nothing changed. I still needed to just ask Glenn. It was as easy and as difficult as that.

Ask him I did, as I opened the door, before I even saw his face. “Is-this-a-date?” It came out as all one word.

He chuckled. “That was kind of what I was going for, yeah. Does that work for you?”

And suddenly I was no longer nervous. There was warmth to his voice, kindness, and not at all any indication that he was upset that I was confused, or that I had blurted anything out.

“Yeah, that works for me.” I grabbed my keys. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

He gave me his arm, and we walked that way to the car, where he was ever the gentleman—opening the door for me, shutting it once I was safely inside, and going around to his side to drive.

We ended up at a Mexican restaurant I’d been wanting to try. He hadn’t known that. It was nothing we’d discussed, and I took it as a good sign. But, then again, I was willing to look at anything that was happening in a positive light—because we might have only just met, but I really liked this guy.

We ordered dinner, and, as I dipped my fifty-seven-millionth chip into salsa, I just straight out asked him. “If this is a date, that means…”

“I’m interested?” He attempted to fill in my blank.

“No, I mean—you had Sally. So are you interested…like, just to play? You called this a date, and now I’m extra confused.”

“It is a date, but I would love to play sometime, too.”

I leaned in and spoke in hushed tones.

“What I mean is…do you like men?” The date should’ve been a huge-ass sign that he wasn’t playing games, but for some reason, I needed to hear it. Obviously, bisexual people existed, but that didn’t mean Glenn was one.

“Yes.”

Such a beautiful word.

“But, more importantly, I like you.”

We went on to discuss how he had identified as bi for as long as he could remember, and that Sally had been his one big love, but that he had mostly dated men before her.

And how he was a little bit worried about starting again, and that he hoped that her being part of his life wasn’t a dealbreaker for me.

I’d never spoken to a man who was so free with his emotions, not anyone I dated.

He shared everything I asked of him and more.

I felt not only seen and heard but also… valuable.

“Why would it be a dealbreaker?” I reached over and put my hand on his. “We love who we love. And you loved her.”

“Yeah. I really did. I still do.”

“And I’m sure somewhere she’s looking down at you and feeling the same.” People believe a lot of different things about what happens next, after we take our last breath. But it always felt like our loved ones never truly left us.

Our dinner came, and I ate a ton, enjoying every last bite and listening to Glenn talk about Sally—but also about his career, about his friends.

We didn’t talk a lot about being a daddy or a little.

This wasn’t the place to have that conversation.

But everything else, from how I moved here, about my job, how I’d only ever been with men, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t accepting of his bi-ness.

And by the time we left and went for a walk through the park across the street, we decided that we were going to see if maybe we were compatible as both dating partners and playmates.

We also decided to take it slow.

My body wasn’t wanting the slowness. I was so attracted to him. It was hard not to lean over and kiss his cheek as we walked hand in hand along the river. But if we were going to try to make something of this, slow was probably the way to go.

At least that’s what I was trying to convince myself.

Full speed ahead was more what I wanted to do.

That was a lie. It was Glenn I wanted to do. Why did he have to be hot and nice and daddy all wrapped up into one?