Page 23 of In the Middle of No(ah)where (Rockport Ridge #2)

Noah

W rapping up my first week as a college student is a bit terrifying—mainly because of the unknown.

Initially, I find myself clinging to the familiar.

I decided to check out the gaming club on campus, which meets once a week, hoping to find common ground with others who are also working on their degrees.

I thought it would offer me comfort. That would be a big…

fat…no. These are some hardcore gamers. When I walk into my first meeting, which I arrive thirty minutes late due to getting lost, a dozen people are looking through manuals and calling out codes to defeat whatever it is they're trying to beat on the large screen.

Did I just walk into the middle of a top-secret military operation?

After standing around for fifteen minutes observing and no one greeting me, I silently slipped out the same way I came in.

It's so different from the times I regressed and played with my group of friends at the community center.

In my third week on campus, I decided to reach out to other LGBTQ+ students.

There are a couple of groups on campus for social events, and I ended up joining the queer student alliance, finding a community of like-minded individuals who understand the complexities of navigating a world not always built for us.

It's a space where I can be myself. I openly discuss my relationship with Marcus and feel closer to him by including him in this part of my life—college life.

I never thought I would say that. I also discovered that I'm not alone in my academic struggles.

Over the next couple of weeks, others have shared similar challenges and triumphs with learning disabilities.

The connections I've made provide a sense of belonging—a newfound support system that supplements Marcus' unwavering love.

Love?

It's not the first time I thought about that L word when thinking of Marcus.

I locate a bench just outside the student union.

The cool autumn air whips by, and I pull my hood up over my head to block some of the breeze.

I sit and think about the past few months and about this word that keeps popping up in my head when I think about him.

Do I love Marcus?

He's always there for me. When I see him or hear from him, my heart pitter-patters in my chest. I think about him constantly, and when we have sex, it's like an extension of all the care we have for one another.

He's everything. He tells me all the time, "You're mine," in this way that claims ownership over me.

We just finished a shifter book the other night in bed, and I wonder if he would claim me the way the alpha claimed his omega–bite my neck and leave a mark.

I know I mentioned it during that first spanking session, but I haven't brought it up since. I'd love to wear his mark.

My feelings for Marcus have developed quickly, but I've likely been in love with him since the moment we met. His caring nature resonates deeply with me.

But does he feel the same way?

???

A month into my first semester of college, I feel the weight of it all becoming too much as I trek across campus to study for a while before my first exam.

I find a spot in the campus library, and my brain is filled with random thoughts, making it difficult for me to think straight.

Surrounded by other students chatting and laughing, they add to the chaos as my inner turmoil spikes.

Tears well up in my eyes, a silent confession of defeat.

A whisper of doubt that perhaps college–this grand adventure–has been a colossal mistake.

What was I thinking about coming here? The pressure to perform, to keep up, to appear normal, feels suffocating.

I pull the cell out of my backpack while my thumb hovers over Marcus' contact. The urge to confess these struggles is almost overwhelming. I close my eyes and imagine Marcus' voice––his reassuring tone, the gentle encouragement that has become my anchor.

The weight of unshed tears press down on my eyelids.

"Hello? Noah. You there?" I hear Marcus' faint voice. I look around the room but don't see him. Did I imagine it? "Hello?" I glance down and realize my thumb is still pressed against the screen where I hit the call button on his contact.

I lift the phone to my ear. Too scared to talk because I may sob.

"What's wrong, Puppy?" Marcus' words are rushed. Worried.

"Hi, Daddy," I whisper. Voice breaking. "It's too much."

"What is baby?" Baby. He's never called me that, only 'Puppy.' My heart leaps, and I feel like such a disappointment.

"My head," I tell him."I can't get it to stop."

"Take a deep breath for me." He tells me, and I comply. Letting the air fill my lungs and slowly escape through my mouth. "Good. Have you hurt yourself?" I can't blame him for asking. We made a promise to each other that if I ever felt the need to add a new scar, then I was to call him immediately.

"No."

"Have you taken your exam yet?"

"I still have a few hours. I was going to the library to study, and the emotions just hit out of nowhere. I can't get the chaos to calm."

There's silence on the line for a moment, and I check the screen to make sure he's still there.

"Do you need Daddy's help?" He asks pointedly, sensing that I have begun to slip into middle space.

And I know what he's suggesting. The same thing he did for me on the day of the open house.

He wants to get me grounded so I can focus.

"I think so."

"You think so?"

"No. I know so. I need it." I part whine, part beg, bringing back memories of the first time.

"Meet me at my house in fifteen minutes. I will make sure you're back on campus for your exam with a clear head." I no longer feel alone, lost in the hurricane.

And as promised, Marcus has me back on campus right in front of the building where I was allowed to take the exam.

"I'll wait here in the parking lot for you.

It will give me a chance to get caught up on my reading," he informs me while holding up our latest book.

I'm a few chapters ahead of him. I open my mouth, but he cuts me off, "don't spoil anything by telling me what's going to happen," he warns.

I give him a quick kiss and head into the building.

A little over an hour later, I'm walking to Marcus' car with a grin on my face. He steps out of the car and looks at me with a matching smile.

"I take it you did well?" He asks, opening his arms to me, and I step into them, pressing my lips against his. I'll never get tired of kissing this man.

"It was on the computer, so I got my score instantly." Holding the printout, they gave me with my score on top. He takes the paper and reads over it.

"Ninety-four percent baby? That's amazing. I knew you could do it." He brushes his lips to mine again.

I may have melted a little.

"I have you to thank. If it wasn't for the earlier session, I don't know if my brain would have been able to focus." I admit.

"Well, we can make this a regular thing for you. I can help you get into a state of subspace so your head clears before your exams.

"You don't mind?" I ask as my cheeks heat.

"Are you kidding me? I get to play with this ass," he teases with a light smack on it, and I feel the burn from our earlier session.

I laugh and shake my head. "Marcus."

"Yeah, Puppy?"

"I love you," I tell him before I let the moment slip by. My eyes gaze into his. Even if he doesn't feel the same way, I want him to know how I feel.

"That's great, baby." He says with a wink.

That's great? Really? That's what you say when someone–

"I love you, too. More than you can imagine." Marcus whispers.

My heart floats out of my chest, and I lock my lips with his. Again.

"Take me home and make love to me. I think I've earned a reward for this test." I declare.

"Yes. You did."

???

The following month passes just the same.

Juggling work and school. Marcus has been fulfilling his promise and meets me a few hours before my exams, sending me flying into subspace.

It's incredible how calm I get before the exam.

Following the exams, I head home and sink into a state of middle space with Carlos.

We hang out with Marcus and Jasper watching over us. Like tonight.

The four of us are sitting around the kitchen table in our apartment, and the new game Daddy bought promises hours of family fun!

Daddy even purchased the deluxe edition of "Conquer the Farm," complete with miniature catapults that launch tiny, realistic plastic sheep.

I think it's hilarious. Daddy said it's slightly terrifying.

Carlos launches a sheep directly into my meticulously planned supply of apples from the orchard, destroying them.

"Hey!" I shriek, launching myself dramatically backward. "That's cheating! Those sheep were strategically positioned to maximize my harvest!"

Daddy, mid-sip of his beer, chokes on my dramatics.

"They weren't strategically positioned; they were in the way of my hay bale maze." Liam retorted, his voice dripping with nine-year-old sarcasm. "Besides, it's whoever can conjure the most land…not dumb apples."

"There are rules!" I yell back, grabbing my own catapult. "Rule number one: don't launch livestock into your opponent's apples! Rule number two: don't be a total–" I trail off, searching for the perfect insult.

Daddy and Jasper clear their throats simultaneously.

"Boys," Jasper says, his voice a low rumble that suggests a spaceship is about to take off.

"Let's keep it civil. This is supposed to be fun," Daddy tells us.

Carlos snorts. "Fun? This is exciting! I'm about to conquer Noah's pathetic little section of apple hoarding acreage with my superior agricultural skills and well-aimed sheep!"

"Your skills involve sheep-based aggression!" I counter. My face turned a magnificent shade of red apple.

The game continues with a series of increasingly aggressive sheep launches, strategic resource stealing, and muttered immature insults. I desperately want to hurl my game piece–a rather glum-looking farmer with a plastic straw hat–directly at his head.

Daddy attempts to mediate, which involves a complicated explanation of fair play that goes completely in one ear and out the other.

Jasper ended up refereeing the rest of the game, which is not in the rule book, by issuing penalties for a lost turn, which were constantly disputed by both Carlos and me.

The final straw came when Carlos "accidentally" knocked over my two silos, which in turn fell onto my orchard, and each tree acted like a domino piece, with a mighty sheep launch. My whole section of the farm was destroyed with scattered plastic trees and miniature apples all over the game board.

I exploded.

"That's it!" I screamed, tears welling up. "I'm not playing anymore!"

Daddy sighed, and Carlos surprisingly looked sheepish. Pun entirely intended.

Jasper and Daddy realize that the ' Hours of Family Fun ' has devolved into a miniature warzone between me and Carlos.

The consequences? No dessert. Now I'm even madder at Carlos because Orange Sherbet is my favorite. Daddy sends me to my room for five minutes to think about my reaction. Jasper gets sent to his room, too.

When we came out, Carlos apologized for attacking my section of the farm and said it wasn't part of the game and that he had just gotten carried away. I told him it was okay and gave him a hug.

We still didn't get dessert.

I certainly learned my lesson: some games are best left unconquered. Especially when miniature livestock are involved.

???

Interactions with my classmates are a mixed bag.

Some are friendly, curious, and welcoming.

They ask about my interests, listen to my stories from Steamed and Life with Marcus, and treat me with genuine respect.

Others are more reserved and distant, their interactions polite but superficial.

Luckily, I haven't run into students who have been openly hostile toward me.

Some group members have mentioned in our LGBTQ+ meeting about being victims of openly hostile students on campus whose glances are laced with judgment.

I can't imagine. Hearing their stories makes me feel vulnerable and exposed—and not in a good way.

This is a sharp contrast to the safety and acceptance I find with Marcus and my group of friends.

Marcus's presence is my anchor, a grounding force amid the swirling chaos of my life. He understands my struggles and reminds me daily of my worth, my strength, my resilience.

Midterms are a week away, and I find myself regressing more and more–building elaborate Lego spaceships and creating my alien villages, seeking solace in the simplicity of childhood. Purin is now a semi-permanent fixture on the couch because I don't like to be too far away from him.

There are two knocks on the front door before it opens. I know it's Marcus. He's the only one that knocks like that, and my heart skips. When he steps inside, I smile at the bags in his hand.

"Did you get me chicken nuggets and extra fries?" I ask as he heads into the small kitchen.

"Have we met?" He grins and teases. "Go wash your hands, and we can eat." I turn and run to the kitchen sink before he calls over his shoulder. "And don't roll your eyes at me. You know how many germs are on those LEGO?"

How did he know I rolled my eyes? His back was turned. As if reading my mind. "I have eyes in the back of my head," he laughs.

"That's silly, Daddy. Are you an alien?" I half-dry my hands on the towel and finish wiping them on my jeans before pulling out the chair, where my nuggets are already open. I dip one in the BBQ sauce and pop the whole thing in my mouth in the biggest bite ever. "Mm, so good."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," he scolds before taking a bite of his cheeseburger.

"Sorry," I tell him before dipping my fry in the mound of ketchup. "What's the plan after dinner?" I ask.

"Did you pick up your room like I asked?" I slouch down in my chair, making myself small. "That's what I thought. First, we'll start by cleaning your room. Put all of your dirty clothes in the laundry bag I gave you and put it by the front door so we can take it to my house later to wash."

I love that he allows me to wash clothes at his house instead of using the laundry room.

"Then, you're going to shower."

"Together?" I ask hopefully.

"Of course." He gives me a wink and takes another bite of his burger.