Page 3

Present Day

For the first time in over a month, I wake up warm and semi-refreshed.

My first paycheck from the coffee shop job went to paying bills. Making sure I kept a place to live for at least another month. I saved some extra money by being smart about the allocated amount of money we get for lunch at the shop. There aren't a lot of food choices, but I've lived off of less for longer. My second paycheck was for me. Well, half went to paying on a credit card I really am trying to keep from going to collections. They've been hounding my phone for weeks now.

The other half went to buying things for the apartment, things I need. I tried to be smart with the money. I had a couple hundred dollars, but things are expensive. I never realized how much it cost to buy a pot to cook in. Or sheets, blankets. Curtains.

I got rid of the bed frame once I realized that a Queen sized mattress was way out of the budget for me. I bought one of those mattresses that come in a box and found a cheap, well used, bed frame for sale at a yard sale a block from the apartment. I know it's meant to be for a child, with the faded red paint and the stickers that were attempted to be pulled off, but it works. My next big purchase was a good blanket and a pillow.

I aimed to go for a plain colored blanket, something simple, but when I spotted the Ninja Turtles one, I couldn't resist. I grew up watching Ninja Turtles. It came on after I would put my siblings to bed for the night, the one time I had to myself. Those four turtles and rat kept me company while I did homework or cleaned up the house.

My alarm goes off for the second time and I sit up to reach for it off the folding table next to my bed. It's only six in the morning. My shift starts right at opening time. I have a little bit of time, but it takes me at least thirty minutes to walk to work.

The floor goes from carpet to linoleum in the bathroom and I curl my toes at how cold it is. I can't afford to turn the heat on much. The bathroom is… small. It's a shower that I barely fit in, toilet, and sink. The grout around the tiles on the floor is old and stained. The sink has peeling caulk where the counter meets the wall. I've cleaned the mirror, but it still looks dirty. There is only one light above the mirror and it gives a whole 'serial killer lives here' vibe.

I brush my teeth and relieve myself before heading to the tiny kitchen. It's just as plain and used as the rest of the place. Simple, white fridge. Countertops are green and the cabinets below are a medium wood color. It doesn't really match. I have a microwave and a stove but that's it. Which means it's another quick breakfast of a fried egg on untoasted toast.

"It's called bread. Untoasted toast is just bread, genius." I grumble the thought to myself as I try to wake up. I open the fridge and stare at the lack of food. It's sad. Nothing like the fridge at Garrett's place.

I sigh, remembering that morning. It's been six weeks and I haven't once used the number he gave me. I thought about it more than once, but I felt so embarrassed last time. I'd fallen asleep within minutes of getting out of the shower. When I woke up the next morning, I was covered by a blanket and Riley, his dog, was curled up by my feet.

He was already awake and making breakfast when I walked down in my clothes, which I suspect he washed while I was passed out. He smiled and asked if I had any allergies before making me a plate with hash browns, pancakes, and bacon. It was the first real meal I had in weeks. First homemade meal in even longer than that. I devoured it before he even finished his two slices of bacon. He didn't comment on it, just asked if I wanted anything else. I declined.

We made small talk while he finished eating. Where I lived, how I found the club, if I wanted a ride home or to stay another night. I was tempted to take him up on the offer, but I didn't want to impose. After I said my goodbyes to Riley, he did drive me back to my place. I could sense his judgement of the apartments, though he didn't say anything. Neither of us really spoke outside of me giving him directions.

The memories of a warm house and comfortable bed fade when I step outside. It's the week before Christmas and freezing. I pull the thin jacket a bit tighter around me and fold my arms across my chest. There's no wind this morning, thankfully, but it doesn't cut the cold any more. My apartment is on the second floor and I clomp down the stairs quickly. I have exactly half an hour to get to work, but only ten minutes to pass by the corner of Greenway and Tinker Street.

The biggest selling point on the apartment— the only really, because there isn't much to be grateful for other than cheap rent— is that it's close by to where my siblings still live. I haven't talked to them in years, but I've kept tabs. I've made sure they were okay without them seeing me. If they saw me, chances were they'd tell our parents. Then my parents would try to manipulate them to ask me for things. I want to help my siblings, I know that my harsh feelings are toward the two that gave us life isn't their fault. I can barely afford a one bedroom, much less support three others.

They're standing by the Stop sign, just like each day they have school. Jayden has his hood up, Katy is saying something but I'm way too far to hear it. My youngest sister, Quinn, is huddled close to Jayden for warmth. She's wearing a hoodie that looks like she outgrew last year. While I'm twenty-two, the others are still middle and high school ages: Jayden, sixteen, Katy, fifteen, and Quinn just turned twelve. Katy will be celebrating her Sweet Sixteen at the end of February.

I watch them for a minute before I continue on. I hate that I can't talk to them. Maybe now that I have money coming in, I can buy a few things and leave it for them. I'd drop it by the house, but I don't know if my parents would take the items or not. Try to sell them or use them for themselves. Maybe leave breakfast? I always made them food before school, so they would know it was from me, right?

The coffee shop is warm and smells amazing when I walk in. Tyler and Nasir are laughing at something and Austin is on the coffee side. His boyfriend, Remington, is standing on the outside of the counter. They look like they're in the middle of a serious conversation. I hang my jacket on one of the hooks outside of the storage closet and grab an apron. They're a light brown and hide any coffee stains, which is a bonus. I do my best to not get messy, but when we get busy, things splash.

"Hey, Orion!" Austin turns to me and offers a smile. I return it easily. We have about five minutes before we unlock the doors.

"Hey, Boss Man. Hey, Boss Man's boyfriend." I move to the register and clock myself in.

"As much as I hate you calling me Boss Man, I love hearing the word boyfriend." I glance over and see Austin making heart eyes at Remington. He's here most mornings, dropping Austin off for work. He hangs around for a cup of coffee before heading to his job. "We have the group coming in today, so I'll jump over and help you with their drinks in a bit. Until then, I need to shove this one out the door and get some paperwork done. Let me know if you need anything."

I'm getting the hang of the drinks for regulars. The group that comes in on Thursdays was overwhelming at first, but after the third week I started getting used to it. Once I learned enough to make two drinks at a time, their waiting cut down drastically. I start running a check to make sure everything is stocked.

"Hey, Remington." A deep voice cuts through my mental checklist. I glance up to see who else has come in before we're open. My hands freeze and I know my mouth is open, all but gawking at Garrett. I take in his appearance. His brown eyes, high cheek bones, full lips. His beard is thick and no longer than the two inches it was last time I saw him. He must keep it like that intentionally. Broad shoulders and muscles are hidden under a suit jacket and tie. When I look back up at him, there's recognition in his eyes. "Orion, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Hi." I don't know what to do or say.

"You two know each other?" Austin asks. His eyes are wide and I can see an almost childlike excitement in them.

"We've met," Garrett says simply. "Couple weeks ago, actually."

I'm grateful that he doesn't give more information. The last thing I need is for my boss to know that I was at a kink club, much less a room for age regression. I might have been looking up things online about it; purely out of curiosity. There's quite a community for it.

"That's awesome," Austin says. I see Remington give Garrett a look. One that says 'We're talking about this'. I'm sure Garrett has told him all about the guy that he took home but fell asleep.

"I'll see you after work, okay?" Remington reaches across the counter and takes Austin's hand, squeezing it. "Be good today. I love you."

"I love you, too." Austin's cheeks are tinged pink and I finally go back to working. I actively avoid Garrett's look, his body, as all three walk to the main doors and Austin unlocks them. What kind of small world in a big city is this that Austin and Remington know Garrett, the one person I made a fool of myself in front of?

There are customers coming in right away, which keeps Austin from asking any follow up questions. I greet the customers with a smile and take their money one-by-one. As promised, right at nine, Austin comes up and helps me with the group of twelve nurses that come in together. I make small talk with each of them as I punch in their orders. One, Brandt Tetherly, has a ham and cheese croissant in his hand. I have a sneaking suspicion that he likes either Tyler or Nasir. He's the only one out of their group that heads straight for the food before getting coffee. He's also always raving on how good the sandwich is.

It isn't until nearly noon that we start to slow down today. When I clock out for my break, Austin is the one to ring me up for my food.

"Do you mind if I join you for your lunch?" Austin asks. I'm taken aback for a second but agree, not sure why. It can't be work related if he wants to talk while I'm not clocked in. As we take our food to the furthest table in the corner of the seating area, I have a sinking feeling he's going to ask about Garrett. My suspicion is proven right before I can even take the first bite of my own meal.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," Austin starts. Which is never a good start to a conversation. It's leeway into an uncomfortable question. "But can I ask how you know Garrett?"

"I don't really know him," I say lowly. "We met a couple of weeks ago… At a place."

"Was it at a club?" The question throws me for a loop. How does Austin, of all people, know about the club? He's so… My boss. He's a manager. If Austin knows about the club and is familiar with Garrett, then he probably knows what Garrett does there. My cheeks heat with embarrassment. I want to lie. But I've also been wanting to talk to someone. Maybe not about all the questions I have, but… some things.

"I had a couple of drinks there back before Thanksgiving. Before getting this job, actually. I met him, we talked a bit, and then I went home with him. Nothing happened, though. I just slept and then went home the next day."

"Please don't take what I'm about to ask the wrong way," Austin says. Again, not a good sign, but I wait him out. I take a bite of my food while his mouth does the fish motion of trying to find the right words. "Remington told me that Garrett was talking to someone in the Dreamland room at the club a while ago. Was that you?"

If Dreamland is the name of the room I stumbled upon, then yeah, it was. I chew far more thoroughly than I normally would have. I don't say anything, but just nod. The excitement I see cross Austin's face is not what I was expecting. I don't know what I was expecting, honestly, but happiness wasn't it.

"Are you… I mean, do you… Regress?" Austin stumbles over his words. If I hadn't done all the searching on my phone— which was definitely a small luxury I upgraded with my paycheck– I wouldn’t know what he meant by regress. But I do and the way he’s looking, waiting for me to respond, gives me another puzzle piece to why he’s asking this.

"No," I say simply. "I just stumbled upon that room that night. Has he talked about me? How do you know this?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." I know my tone was more judgey than I intended. I've lived on my own long enough. I'm independent, always have been. Always will be. I don't need someone to take care of me. Not like that. I've been on my own since seventeen; I'm doing fine. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. I'll… Let you finish your lunch. Sorry. Again."

I drop my sandwich and hold out a hand to stop him. He turns his face away but doesn't move another step. "I'm sorry, Austin. It's just not something I'm into."

A thought crosses my mind. The excitement he had earlier when he realized Garrett knew me. Him coming over to talk. Was he one that regressed? I just shoved my foot so far in my mouth I can feel the weight of it in my stomach. "I didn't mean—"

"It's fine," Austin says. I can hear the emotion in his voice even though I can't see his face. "Just please don't repeat any of this."

"I won't," I promise.

I look down at my food as he walks away, having no appetite after practically shaming Austin— my boss— for something he does. I don't know how to make it right, though. Do I just apologize or talk to him more? Ask him about it? I mean, it isn't that I'm not, not into it. I did just spend my money on a Ninja Turtles blanket, but that's because I loved the Ninja Turtles growing up…

That's different. Right? I try to figure out how it's different. I bought the blanket because it reminded me of a better time, a time when I was happy and relaxed. That's… the same, isn't it? No. Regressing is a lot more than just having a blanket that you like. It's… baby toys and having someone else do everything for you.

I've been on my own long enough to know that's not something I want. I like my independence. I like making my own rules and decisions. It's done me well the last five years. Giving that up?

"This is too much," I mumble to myself. I check my phone and see I only have a few minutes left of break. I wrap the rest of my sandwich up and head to the restroom before clocking back in. The rest of the day, I can't help but watch for glimpses of Austin. I don't know if he's trying to avoid me or if he's actually busy and working in his office. He does come out closer to closing time to help out. I give him a short nod but don't say anything. I don't know what to say.

We're the last two in the building after we close. Since I come in later than the others, I'm here an extra half an hour later than Tyler and Nasir. Which means Austin and I have the place to ourselves. I finish wiping down the counters in complete silence while Austin wipes the tables. I try more than once to find words to bring it up. It isn't until he's walking back toward me that I stop him.

"Austin, wait." He stops and I can see the apprehension in his eyes. I don't blame him. I look down at my hands before taking a deep breath and looking back up at him. "I'm sorry, for earlier. I didn't mean for that— No, please let me finish." I hold up a hand when I see him start to say something. "I didn't mean for what I said to come across as rude as it did. I don't have anything against it and yes, I was… intrigued… about the room when I was at the club. My life, it just doesn't match up. Garrett was nice and let me stay at his place, but that's it."

I don’t care what people do in their own time, as long as it isn’t hurting another person.

"I get it," Austin says. "I just figured if you know Garrett, then you know what he is."

"You mean a Daddy?" The word doesn't sound as strange as I expected when I say it. "I gathered that when I met him. He's very demanding when you don't talk."

Austin cracks a smile. "Yeah, that sounds like him. My Da— Uh, Remington— is kind of the same way. Except sometimes he says I talk too fast and will make me slow down and repeat myself."

I laugh at that, because I can't see it. Austin has been nothing but professional and only talks when needed. I can sense the undertone of happiness in his voice when he talks about Remington, though. I'm happy for him.