Page 3 of In the Middle of No(ah)where (Rockport Ridge #2)

Noah

N ope. Nope. Nope. Nope, and nope. "This is definitely not for me," I tell the empty air in my bedroom with heated cheeks.

What did I just read? Diapers. Sippy cups.

Bottles. Onesies. I've seen reality TV shows about adult babies, but this takes it too far.

I won't yuck anyone's yum, but I won't be nursing on a bottle while pretending some strange man is my daddy.

As new as all this is, something about age play must have grabbed my attention because I can't stop researching.

When I scroll through a couple more vlogs on YouTube, the guy wearing a cute onesie with a pacifier clipped to it on the screen says something that resonates with me.

"It's a way to escape. I don't have to worry about my adult problems because I know my daddy will be there to help me.

" Hold up. Wait. Is this really a thing?

Could I have a daddy to help me navigate being an adult?

My parents are no help. I know they love me and are there if I need them, but they act like I should have it all figured out since I'm eighteen now.

One video mentioned something about daddy issues, and that doesn't resonate with me either.

My dad and I aren't best friends, but he's always been there when I've had issues at school or needed advice about something.

We just don't see eye-to-eye on the gay issue.

After cutting myself, it came out, and I was ready to let the chips fall as they might.

I was prepared to spend the last two years of school in foster homes, but my parents hugged me.

Dad apologized, but it was more out of fear of losing me than what he said.

They know I'm gay, but we don't talk about it. I've also made a point to never mention any boy's name around them. It's unfortunate to have to be this secretive in my own home, but that's just the way it is.

I watched a few more videos, and they mirror what the last one said about it being a form of escape.

They get into something called a little mindset and can relax knowing they are taken care of.

What would that feel like? However, the idea of wearing a diaper to escape still doesn't resonate with me.

Besides, I'm not really a twink. Would Daddies want someone small and tiny?

My mind recalls the guy from the last video.

He wasn't small. In fact, he was older than his daddy. How does that work?

So many questions.

Google helps some. It seems like age play is about age regression and caregiving.

Some have mommies, and some have daddies.

It really depends on preference. One article said that it can be nonsexual, while others enjoy the sexual element.

So…a daddy's role is to take care of his little.

The younger guy in the video appears to have caretaking tendencies and enjoys caring for the other individual, who seems to enjoy being cared for. Actual age doesn't matter.

Yep, this whole age play thing is clear as mud.

What I find fascinating is that someone can regress to various ages. All the ones I've been watching have regressed to toddler age. Chicken nuggies––not nuggets––especially the ones in the shape of dinosaurs, and sippy cups were a common theme among them.

I close my laptop and lie back on my bed, feeling a bit overwhelmed with a world I didn't even know existed.

Is this something I'm even interested in exploring?

I reach over and grab my Switch from the nightstand. Once it's powered up, I let out a deep sigh and try to forget about the playdate flier.

???

"I'm so glad you got the job," Caleb tells me as I walk through the door at Steamed. The shop isn't open yet, and he's getting things set up behind the counter. A woman with long brunette hair comes through the swinging doors.

"Jessie, this is Noah." Caleb introduces her.

"The new guy?" I nod at Jessie's question. "Carlie said she had a newbie starting this morning. Welcome aboard," she tells me while carrying the tray of pastries to the display case.

"Thanks," I tell her while making my way up to the counter.

"Carlie, the newbie's here!" Jessie yells out, and I roll my eyes at her smirk.

"You'll get used to it," Caleb says while stacking more cups onto the pile. The gleam in his eyes while stacking cups reminds me of the guys in the videos who were stacking blocks. I try to shake the image out of my mind.

"Noah, glad you made it in. Come on back, and I'll set you up with your training." Carlie guides me to a small table with a laptop sitting on it. "Would you like some coffee? Something to eat?" She offers.

"I'm okay right now," I tell her.

"There are some bottles of water and juice boxes in the staff fridge if you get thirsty. Or, you can ask Caleb or Jessie, and they can make you a cup of coffee. It's one of the perks of working here. Free drinks." She winks and points to a vintage-looking refrigerator on the back wall.

Once I'm signed in, she apologizes ahead of time for how boring it will be. She was right. These videos are boring. Primarily safety-related, but then there is a series of short videos that provide a good foundation on how to make some of the shops' more popular drinks.

I think I'll get the hang of things pretty quickly.

I spend the rest of the day shadowing Caleb and Jessie, which is strange because Caleb is a newbie, too, since he's only been working here a few days longer than me. Essentially, we're both shadowing Jessie, and Carlie steps in to help out when the line gets a little busier.

At the end of our shift, Caleb and I scan our badges simultaneously to clock out.

"It was great seeing you again," Caleb says as we make our way through the shop to the front door.

"You, too. I think I'll like it here once I get the hang of things." I tell him.

"You picked up things fast. I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Thanks."

Caleb holds the door for me, and I exit onto the sidewalk. "Um, would you like to switch numbers, just in case something comes up?" He asks me with his head hanging down. This guy needs a little more confidence.

"I think that's a great idea." I slide my phone out of my pocket and hand it to him so he can put in his number, and he does the same.

After clicking some buttons, I turn his camera on and take a silly-faced selfie for the contact photo, and he giggles.

I hand his phone back to him with a grin. "Call or text me anytime."

"Thanks. You, too." He pockets his phone, and I watch him retreat toward the bus stop. Should I offer him a ride? He's so tiny, and something inside me wants to protect him. But, since I barely know him, I refrain from offering him a ride and walk to my car.

It was a good first day.

I roll the windows down in the car and drive home, enjoying the breeze and an unusually cool day for summer.

When I pull onto our street, I slow down to breathe in the cooler temperatures and the fragrance of fresh-cut grass of the neighbor's house I mowed yesterday.

It feels more like a spring day with the green, lush lawns and flowers, the sounds of birds chirping and dogs barking in the air, and…

my dad's home? He's never home this early.

Was it his day off? Not overthinking, I park the car along the curb and walk toward the house, stopping stone cold on the front porch when I hear yelling.

My parents are yelling at each other.

Since I don't want to go inside to, whatever that is, I sit on the steps and glance around at the houses on our street.

Nobody is out, and I'm thankful for that.

I'd hate for my family to be the subject of town gossip.

Rockport Ridge isn't small, but it's not a city either.

We have approximately 100,000 people in our town, not to mention some of the neighboring nearby cities, which makes it feel much larger.

" You slept with her again!"

"How could you do this to our family?"

"Get the fuck out! "

I've listened to enough information to figure out what their fight is about. My dad's having an affair. But this doesn't explain why he's home. Wait. Did she say again? My dad's a fucking cheater? And he wants to judge me for being gay? The little respect I had for him slipped.

The perfect veneer they portray begins to crack.

I just want to go to my room and hide away from it all.

When the front door swings open and hits the wall, I jump to my feet and turn around to see the disappointment on my dad's face.

He doesn't say anything at first; he just stands there looking past me out into the yard.

He takes a deep breath. "See ya around, kiddo," he tells me and walks by, tossing a duffle bag in the cab of his truck and driving off without another look.

A few minutes later, I find Mom sitting at the kitchen table, red-rimmed eyes staring back at me when I enter through the arched doorway.

"What are you doing home?" she asks with venom in her tone.

"My shift at work ended." I cross over to the fridge and grab a bottle of water. "Everything, okay?" I flinch at my own comment. Of course, things aren't okay .

"It's a wonder you didn't apply to college with how smart you are," she lashes out quietly. "Apparently, you got your father's looks and his brains." She takes a sip of whatever's in her cup.

I've never talked back to my parents. I just went along with whatever they wanted and didn't make waves. Why today was going to be the day I grew a backbone, I'll never know. I stand a little straighter and square my shoulders.

"Just because you're mad at him doesn't give you the right to talk down to me," I tell her steadily.

She lets out one of those short, forced laughs and takes another sip. "I know you thought you had a year to figure your shit out, but the due date has moved up. I'm selling the house. You're an adult now. Find a new place to live."

I just stare at her, and the room feels like it's spinning.

"When?" Bile rises in my throat, and I take a sip of my water.

"Preferably sooner than later." She pushes back from the table, grabs her cup, and passes by me with a smirk.

She stops in the doorway but doesn't look at me as she speaks.

"You think you can talk to me that way; you must be grown.

Figure your shit out because I'm done. Oh, and if you ever, ever sass me again, it will be the last thing you do.

" She threatens before vanishing around the corner.

I lean against the counter for support.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

I pull out my phone to text Dad, but since he's the reason my world is crumbling right now, I don't dare contact him. My family has created a perfect facade, and I don't know who to turn to right now. I just need someone to talk to about all of this.

My phone vibrates in my pocket as I head up the stairs to my bedroom.

Caleb: It was fun working with you today. Hopefully, we can become friends outside of Steamed.

It would be nice to make a new friend—someone I could talk to and hang out with. Most of my so-called friends are heading off to college, and I will be here figuring out all the aspects of my life. I'm an adult now, and it shouldn't be this hard.

Me: You too. I have a feeling we're going to be the bestestest of friends.

His response comes instantly.

Caleb: LOL. Is that even a word?

Caleb: I think so 2.

Me: It's when 'bestest' isn't big enough. laughing face emoji

Me: eyeroll emoji Can I ask…how old are you?

Caleb: 17. I start my senior year in August. U?

Me: Cool. 18 here. I just graduated.

Caleb: Going to college?

I groan. Of course, Caleb would ask. Everyone does it out of curiosity, and I can't fault him for it. Is he planning on going to college? Perhaps he's seeking some advice.

Me: No. Just working for now.

I leave out the part about needing to look for a place to live soon. He doesn't need to know my family drama. My parents taught me well how to present a perfect image. Who cares that I'm falling apart on the inside.

Caleb: I don't know you well yet, but I'm glad UR sticking around for a bit.

Me: Yeah. Me 2. I need to do some chores around the house. C U in the morning.

Caleb: C U

My brief conversation with Caleb helped me relax a bit. At least I might have a new friend. If nothing else, I have someone to talk to.

I pull up my banking app to check my funds.

I'm grateful to my family and neighbors who gave me money for graduation.

With what I was able to save over the years, plus graduation funds, I should be okay for a while, especially with my job at Steamed.

I can also take on a second job at night if needed.

I can do this. I think.

Waking up my laptop, I lean against the headboard and type places for rent near me into the search bar. I inhale deeply and let it out slowly as I search the listings of what will hopefully become my new home.