Page 51 of Brat Baby (Sugar Life #1, #3)

Emery

“A knife, seriously?” Oakley repeats for what must be the fourth time this afternoon, her eyes as wide as a cartoon character’s.

I nod and take a bite of the spaghetti Bolognese she taught me how to cook tonight. Her teaching me how to cook is something that started late last week when she discovered I didn’t even know how to cook rice.

She’d given me a sad stare for half a second before turning into a head chef and teaching me things I’m sure I should have known by now.

“And three of them are back together with you?”

I nod again, nudging one of the still-unpacked boxes that litter our dorm. Spoiler alert: it was not only a few boxes.

As promised, everything arrived yesterday afternoon. Both Oakley and I stood around in a state of shock at the sheer volume of stuff once the delivery guys left. I swear Hudson added more things when I wasn’t looking because I don’t remember saying yes to half this stuff.

I’ve slowly been unboxing things and tossing my old things into bags I plan to donate back to Goodwill.

Only a few items have made it to the trash.

And not only has my room gotten a bit of a makeover, so has the main living space.

We have shelves and knickknacks, which makes the room feel a bit squishy, but it’s all too pretty not to have up. Thankfully, Oaks is okay with it all.

“I’m honestly not sure if I’m intrigued or worried for you,” she mutters as she pops a forkful of pasta into her mouth. When I don’t reply, she looks up, then waves her fork around as she explains. “The knife thing. We have already established that I’m cool about the multiple daddy thing.”

Cool is not the word I would use to describe her feelings, but okay.

Maybe intrigued? Definitely shocked. But also very, very interested, without wanting to show it.

Personally, I think the fact that she has multiple, mostly platonic, daddies on her roster right now is probably satisfying some sort of unmet need within her.

Maybe when this whole situation with my daddies has sorted itself out, I can ask them if they have friends that might be interested in Oaks.

“Honestly, same. I had no idea that sort of thing would do it for me, but it so did,” I reply, conjuring up the sensation of Xavier’s blade pressing into my tongue as my mouth stretched around the rest of him, all with a slice of fear cutting into my pleasure.

A shiver runs down my spine and heat pools in my core at the memory.

Yep, totally does it for me. I haven’t mentioned the vibrator in the classroom or Hudson’s office. I like Oakley, but it’s probably best that I don’t mention having sex with my professors on school property.

“As long as you’re happy, that’s all I care about. I would hate to think I introduced you to all of this and it was making you sad.” She glances up from her spaghetti, eyes sharper than I’ve ever seen them. “You are happy, right?”

An overwhelming warmth washes over me, and my throat grows tight at her concern. “Yeah, Oaks, I’m happy. Just need to get through to Derek and I’ll be perfect.”

She watches me carefully for a few seconds, her blonde hair flopping around her face from the scrunchie that is losing its hold on her messy bun. “Any thoughts on what’s going on in his head? Has he given you any indication that things could be worked out?”

I shake my head. “No, to both. I’m not an idiot—it’s definitely the student-teacher thing—but the part I don’t get is why we can’t talk to someone about the fact that we were together before we knew that?

Or even, just talk to each other? Like, isn’t there a way to declare the relationship?

Or pause it for this first semester, then we can figure out an alternate arrangement or something for the rest of college? ”

Oakley chokes on a mouthful that she just swallowed. She coughs and gasps, finally getting it unstuck.

My eyes widen, and I reach for her drink to offer it to her.

She accepts it and takes a long drink, clearing her throat before speaking again, this time with a bit of a rasp.

“Did you just say the rest of college ? As in, you plan on being with the four of them for at least four more years? As in, a long-term relationship. With four much older men. Sharing you. You being exclusively theirs for four years? What happened to six months? We’re talking no college boyfriends or even fooling around.

What if you want to go to a frat party or do a semester in England or something?

And what about after college, what if the job you get is across the country? Are they going to follow you?”

I…

Well, when she puts it like that, it does sound a little naive. They aren’t my forever home. They can’t all keep me. As much as I wish it did, the world doesn’t work like that. We just need to sort out the next six months. Then we can talk about another extension.

I mean, if they do all want to keep me, that’s something we can work out ourselves, in our own time.

As much as I’m fairly certain I want them for a lot longer, right now, I need to figure out the next six months.

Get them back on track with the contract, which is apparently still in place, because I got paid for my weekend again Sunday night.

That has to mean something, right?

I hold up my hands, palms out. “Look, I’m not sure where this is all going, and I may have gotten ahead of myself. But I want them, and they want me. I know they do. I just need to remind Derek of that little fact, then we can all work on a plan. Together.”

She stares at me, sucking on her straw, before putting the drink back on the table.

“Em, if this is what you want, I’ve got your back, you know that.

Cheerleader, Anakin Skywalker, and all that stuff.

Just make sure it really is what you want.

Don’t confuse their sugar daddy interest with actual feelings.

Right now, they are just clients, and clients can drop you without any warning. ”

It's my turn to stare at her as my dinner threatens to make a reappearance. “Why would you put that out in the universe after everything I just said?”

Oakley turns in her seat to face me more fully, puts both hands on my shoulders, and gives me the hardest stare she has ever given me.

“Em, you are amazing, and you have that tragic backstory and everything, but this is not Pretty Woman . This is real life. Four older men do not carry one young woman off into the sunset for the rest of their lives. At least, not to my knowledge. This relationship you have with them, it’s transactional.

I know you really want this thing you have with them to move beyond contracts and timeframes, and if it does, hell yeah, I’m going to support you, but I want to make sure that you’re being realistic.

What you are looking for with them is the extreme exception.

It is not the most likely outcome. I just really don’t want you getting your hopes up too high. ”

My throat tightens and my appetite disappears. I know she’s right. I do.

I just don’t want to believe her.