Page 32 of The Trailer Park Twink

I toss and turn most of the night, too wound-up in worry to get more than a few minutes of sleep at a time.

Dallas has never refused to tell me he loves me back.

Never. It makes me scared I’ve overstepped by stalking him in my younger years.

Hell, maybe I did, but what’s done is done, and Daddy’s furious, and it’s killing me to be this close to him and not feel our connection.

I pretend to be sleeping when he wakes at five, keeping my eyes shut tight as he steps over me and heads toward the kitchen. Squinting, I peek through the archway leading into the kitchen, watching as he grabs a few bottles of water from the fridge.

At first, I think one bottle might be for me. That theory proves inaccurate when he walks past me and grabs his tackle box before opening the front door.

“Daddy,” I whisper, my voice rough from exhaustion. He pauses in the doorway, sighing like he’s just been caught cheating or something. “Are you leaving?”

“I’m going fishing to clear my head. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

No, because that doesn’t work for me at all. The longer he’s alone, the more chance he has to talk himself out of this. The longer he’ll have to realize just how problematic I am, and long enough for him to decide I’m not worth the trouble.

“Can I come too?” I ask. He shakes his head, but he doesn’t move to leave. “Please? I’ll be quiet, I promise. I won’t scare the fish away. I just want to be with you.”

With slumped shoulders, he relents, glancing over his shoulder and giving me a nod, but still refusing to meet my gaze. That’s fine though. We’ll get there. At least he’s extending an olive branch, small though it may be.

“You’ve got five minutes. If you’re not ready, I’m taking the boat out without you.” With that, he grabs his cowboy hat from the coat rack beside the door and puts it on as he heads out the door .

Okay, number one, I didn’t even realize he owned a boat. And number two, fucking yay, because the thought of lounging on a boat as Daddy navigates the calm waters of whatever the hell this lake is named sounds absolutely divine. I wonder if it's a big boat. Maybe even a yacht!

When I emerge from the house, Daddy does a double take at my outfit. Hoping to get a bit of a tan, I’m only wearing a pink tank top and a matching pair of trunks that leave nothing to the imagination. Every inch is on display, and Dallas is staring like he’s trying to memorize it to heart.

For the briefest of moments, I think he might toss me over his shoulder and cart me back into the house so he can ravish me for the rest of day. No such luck. He just points at the edge of the water.

Okay, so, any chance of fun in the sun has been dashed, because instead of a mini-yacht, he has a small canoe-like boat with barely any room for me.

There will be no getting my tan on, because I’ll practically be in Dallas’ pockets.

Oh well. Don’t care. I’ll still get to be in close quarters with Daddy, so I’ll take it.

I take a seat in the alleged boat, turned backward so I can face him.

Dallas is on the shore, pushing the boat into the water before climbing in.

He uses his paddle to push us away from the shore and motions for me to grab the other one.

I didn’t sign up for manual labor, but that’s okay.

I have a lot of upper arm strength thanks to my rigorous masturbation schedule.

At his side, a fishing pole is wedged in a little metal-loop contraption, locking it in place.

There’s a tacklebox between us, and a small sack lunch.

I guess we’re going to be out here a while.

The entire time we paddle, I keep looking up at him, hoping he’ll be looking back, but he doesn’t.

Just keeps his eyes locked straight ahead, steering us God knows where.

He stops rowing when we reach a small, secluded lagoon.

Above, a canopy of trees shield us from the rest of the world, and the small space reminds me of that scene in The Little Mermaid when the stupid crab is yammering on about kissing the girl.

I don’t want to kiss a girl though. I want Daddy.

Want to hug and kiss him all over. Want to cuddle up close and have him stroke my hair.

We’re silent as he loads his bait onto the line and flings it into the lake, the silence sounding like a midnight scream; unavoidable, unrequested, and unwanted.

I can’t stand this awkward tension, so I open my mouth to speak, but he must see me in his peripheral vision, because he quickly shakes his head.

“You said you wouldn’t scare the fish if I brought you.”

I snap my mouth shut, because he has a point.

It doesn’t make it any less upsetting though.

All I want—all I ever want—is to spend time with him.

To be at his side where I belong. Now, things are awkward, and it’s all my fault.

So, I sit here. I sit and stew and think of all the promises Dallas has ever promised me.

That he’d love me unconditionally, no matter what.

That I’m the most important person in his world.

How he was so lonely before we met, and now he never has to be lonely again.

He’s said all of that more times than I can count. I’m not letting him ruin this.

Around the forty-five minute mark, I’ve absolutely had it. “Would you just say it already?”

He looks up at me with narrowed eyes and shooshes me. Fucking shooshes me!

“I already told you,” he whispers. “You have to be quiet. You’ll scare the fish away.”

He adjusts his hat, smooshing it down lower like he's trying to hide inside it. “Oh, for God’s sake. As if you can’t simply buy fish at the store like a normal person.

I don’t care about the goddamn fish, I care about you.

You haven’t talked to me all morning. You won’t look at me for longer than a few seconds.

Do you hate me now? Because that’s what it feels like.

Like you’re sick of me and you’re just waiting for me run to off so you don’t have to deal with me anymore. ”

“Don’t ever say that again,” he says firmly. “I don’t care if you’re joking or not—”

“I’m not,” I clarify. “Nothing about this is funny,”

“Well it's just about the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Of course I don’t want you to leave. You’re home. This is home now. You said so yourself.”

“Yeah,” I say with a scowl, lifting my tank top over my head and flinging it into the water so he can’t tell me to put it back on.

Fuck it. I'm going rogue. I'll win this war by any means necessary. “Well, that was before you started giving me the silent treatment for no reason.” I stand without falling—thank God, because that would be tragic—and slide my trunks down, tossing them over my shoulder like I did with my shirt. I regret it instantly, because those were my favorite, but this is Dallas. Sacrifices must be made. If I thought the sight of my nude state might shut him up and get him back on the SS Incest, I’ve clearly been mistaken, because he looks more annoyed than he did a second ago. Too fucking bad.

“No reason?” he scoffs, laughing bitterly. “The fact that you don’t even know what the reason is is troubling in and of itself. And sit your ass down, dammit. You could fall.”

I roll my eyes. “You’d save me. This is because I watched you masturbate, isn’t it?

” I ask, forming a fist around my cock. Slowly, I stroke myself, watching for any sign that my plan is working.

“I know what I did was wrong, but I’m not apologizing for it.

I regret nothing. If you’re that mad about my seeing you jack off when you weren’t looking, then fuck it, fine.

Tit for tat.” I stare down at my cock. “Look how hard it is for you. It stays hard for you, Daddy. It always has. I can’t lie to you and say I regret anything that led to us finding each other, because I don’t.

I regret nothing when it comes to you and me, and if this is your way of breaking up with me, you need to know that I’m not going to let you.

You don’t get to end this. Ever. Mine, Daddy. ”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Austin,” he whispers, his voice shaking. “Baby, I’m not—”

I quickly shake my head, silencing him. “This is yours now. It always has been, but now it’s official.

” Releasing the hold I’ve got on myself, I take him by the hand and guide him to me.

His fingers wrap around me like it’s second nature, and I can’t stop the whimper from crawling out of my throat.

“Please don’t shut me out, Dallas. Okay?

I’ll be good for you, just don’t go quiet on me like this.

Come back to me. Please? I know I crossed a line, but I did it because I’m fucking feral for you. ”

His thumb brushes gently against my shaft, back and forth on an endless loop.

“You could have hurt yourself.” If he’s still talking about me standing up in the boat, I’ll sit my happy ass down just to stand back up again so I can annoy him.

He’s derailing the conversation with insignificant arguments and it feels like a stall tactic.

“If I fell overboard, you’d just pull me back in.” I cock an eyebrow at him. “Well, I would hope you would, at least. I know you’re mad at me and everything, but angry or not, I would certainly fucking hope you wouldn’t just let me drown.”