Page 9 of Their Little House Boston (Five Little Roommates #3)

Boston

Going to Chained and imbibing more than my share of alcohol had not been the plan. I wasn’t a heavy drinker in general. Usually I was driving or getting home on my own, so even one was a lot. But Elliot had driven, and one drink led to another led to another.

The club was much…so very much. There were people sitting near us wearing different kinds of fetish gear, others in fancy suits, yet others with jeans and crop tops, and a few people even in pajamas.

And there was nothing creepy or wrong about any of that.

It was just a lot taken all at once, especially knowing that all of them were there because they were into some non-vanilla enjoyment.

I’d gone from my first time playing with a little to sitting in a kink club in a nanosecond, and I handled it poorly— very poorly. Drowning in booze was never the answer.

Elliot had taken care of me, though. I owed him…big-time.

I woke up with a headache, two bottles of water by my nightstand, one half gone, and a mouth that tasted like trash.

I opened one of the waters and guzzled it, hoping that it would help the headache.

Until that happened, I wasn’t going to be able to think clearly enough to figure out what bridges I might need to be repair, thanks to my shittastic decision-making the night before.

I wasn’t even sure how I got to bed; I’d been that bad.

As I tried to piece the whole night together, it slowly came to me.

I didn’t recall saying anything embarrassing or bad, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t.

I remembered hearing about Elliot’s little side and him telling me that he thought I was done for the night.

At least I wasn’t an asshole when he did that.

I knew how scary that could be, telling someone it was time to be done drinking.

I’d had more than my share of altercations trying to be the good friend back in college, but unlike those undergrads, I just went with it.

I’d always been a pretty chill drunk, more often falling asleep than anything else.

But from agreeing to go home to waking up, it was still all a blur.

I padded into the bathroom to take a long shower.

Hydration didn’t work by being in humid environments, but I always felt like taking a shower was the starting cure for hangovers, whether it did anything or not.

I stayed under the hot water a long time before shampooing my hair and cleaning my body, trying to grasp at memories.

They kept falling away.

And then it hit me.

“Fuck!” I grabbed my cheeks, squeezed them tightly. How— how could I have not only told him I liked him but kissed him?

He was little. I was not.

And what did I do? Kissed him like a freaking drunken loser. It probably wasn’t even good for him. Drunk kisses were not known as the most caring and sweetest ones on the planet.

I needed to apologize. Maybe he’d be kind enough to forgive me. Please let that be the case.

The water started going cold, telling me my shower was done, ready or not. I threw on some clothes and ordered a box of donuts to be delivered from my favorite bakery. I wanted to do something as a thank-you for getting me home/apology gift. Donuts felt like a decent way to go.

I grabbed them off the porch as soon as they arrived and went up to his room, knocking tentatively, worrying that he might be mad at me. He had every right to be.

But when he opened the door, he was smiling.

“You look better than I thought you would.”

“I drank too much,” I said as I shoved the box of donuts into his arms.

“Yeah. I was there. I remember,” He chuckled.

“This is a thank-you for getting me home, and also an apology.”

He leaned forward and looked down the hallway, I assumed to see if anybody was coming, then dragged me in, and shut the door behind us. He patted a spot on his bed for me to sit and put the donuts on his dresser before joining me.

“Please don’t tell me you’re sorry for a kiss.” His words were not even close to what I’d expected.

“I am. But it’s more than that.” I closed my eyes, hating what I had to do but knowing it was for the best. “I’m really new to this little thing, and I-I don’t even know if I belong here in this house, if I’m being honest. But you’re little.

And I like you. A lot. I liked you not drunk.

And apparently, I like you a whole lot when I am .

But also, I’m not a daddy. That I know for sure. And I’m-I’m—”

My apology turned into a full-on babbling session.

Before I could finish, his hands were on my cheeks and his lips were on mine.

This time, it wasn’t a little peck—it was a full-on kiss.

Slow and steady at first, and then deeper and deeper until I pulled away, not wanting to push too far but knowing that if we kept going, my hands were going to wander.

“Well, there you go. Now I kissed you .” He grinned.

“That was a revenge kiss?” I asked.

And he pressed his forehead to mine. “No. That’s an I’ve been wanting to kiss you since we met kiss.”

“You’re not mad I might not be little?”

“Why would I be mad at that? Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re new to this and you’re trying to figure it out. You are trying to figure it out, right?”

“I am,” I whispered.

“Why don’t you come to Chained with me, and I’ll show you the little spaces. Maybe you could check it out.”

“Are you sure? It won’t be weird after the whole kissing thing?”

He gave me a quick peck. “Not weird at all. Now, tell me about these donuts. You said they’re your favorite. Show me which one I need to start with.”

We hadn’t figured anything out. Not even close. But, as I bit into my cruller, for the first time since I realized I was attracted to him, I knew that we would.