The Playroom

Chapter Seven

T his is a disaster! I’ve torn through my entire closet, and I don’t have a damn thing to wear. I’ve never had this problem before. Clothes are just clothes, right? But not tonight. Not when it’s Leo.

It’s different.

Not sure why or how, but it is.

Should I go with jeans and a really nice button-up? Or maybe a polo with slacks? What if it’s something fancy? Or what if we’re just hitting up a bar with a local band?

Should I text him and ask about the vibe?

Everything that’s coming out of my mouth sounds like a prepubescent teenager—no, I need to play it chill.

Instead, I hit FaceTime as there’s only one person who can help me in a dire crisis such as this.

“Hey bitch!” he says, in a high pitch voice.

“Trey, I need your help?” I say in a tight panic.

Trey’s face shifts instantly, “Everything okay? Is there a body we need to bury?”

Rolling my eyes, “No.”

“Then what is it?”

“I have a date tonight and I have nothing to wear.”

Trey’s expression changed again–this time from concern to excitement. His eyes light up, and I can already hear the questions bubbling under the surface. What he doesn’t know, though, is that it’s with Leo–and I need to keep it that way.

“Just throw something together. It’s not like you’re going to see him again. Men never make it past the first round with you. What I don’t get is, why even date them if you’re not planning to sleep with them?”

“Trey, I love you, but focus,” I say, my voice saccharine–sweet as I grit my teeth.

“I’ve never seen you like this before. You must really like this guy...wait!” his eyes narrow, “Is this the guy from the bar the other night?”

Damn it.

As if wrestling with Emily earlier wasn’t bad enough, now I’ve got to wave around another web of half-truths for Trey. Why does lying to the people I care about feel like walking a tightrope in stilettos?

“As if! What if I told you that he was a different guy?”

“Really?” Trey arches an incredulous brow.

I sight, pinching the bridge of my nose, “Look, I really like this guy, okay? He’s someone I’m actually interested in. And—” I bite my lip for dramatic effect, knowing this next part will send him spiraling, “—you’d be proud of me. We kind of...messed around.”

The shriek that bursts from Trey through my phone could shatter glass.

“Oh. My. God. Is Drew finally being a slut?”

I laugh, hiding my face behind my hands momentarily, “Slut?” No. I’m just...branching out. Let me tell you something he said about vanilla.”

Trey sits up straighter, practically vibrating with excitement, “Girl, spill...like right now.”

I grin, drawing out the suspense, “He said he loves vanilla. And—” I let my voice drop lower, sultry, teasing, “He said he can add any damn filthy flavor he wants to it.”

Another ear-piercing screech comes from my phone.

“Uh...this man sounds heavenly! Who. Is. He?”

Here we go. Every time Trey asks this question, it comes with a minefield of implications. His track record with my dates is a running joke that’s too close to reality. But at least I know one thing—Trey hasn’t slept with Leo. Not that he’s a piece of man-meat to pass around, but still...no worries there.

“Sorry babe. My lips are sealed,” I wink, leaving Trey clawing at the mystery like a cat after a laser pointer.

“That’s not fair. I'll tell you about every guy who ends up in my bed.”

“I know you will. But let’s switch it up—I don’t want to jinx it,” I said gently, flashing a smile.

He rolled his eyes dramatically, “Fine. I won’t tell you about the next guy I’m with and see how you like it?”

“Oh, no...what will I ever do,” I tease, “Now heeellppp me!”

Trey burst out laughing.

“The jeans you’ve got on are perfect. Pair them with that black short sleeved button-up you never wear–it’s divine on you—and those dress boots. Trust me, roll the cuffs of jeans one or twice, and you’re golden.”

“Watch?” I suggested.

“Ew, no. Keep it clean. It’s the perfect mix of dressy and casual,” Trey said, “Wherever you’re going tonight, you’ll look like you belong—and maybe even like you own the place.”

“Thank you Fairy Godfather,” I said, blowing him a kiss.

“Have fun tonight, and do everything I would do,” Trey teased before ending the video call with a wink.

If only he knew.

With just a few minutes before Leo’s arrival, I scrambled to get dressed. Sliding into the outfit, fixing my hair, and walking through a light mist of Versace Eros cologne, I felt the buzz of anticipation build in my best.

One last check in the mirror—damn, Trey was right, this shirt is amazing. I really need to wear it more often.

Knock. Knock.

I smoothed down my shirt one last time, nerves twisting in my stomach, and hurried to the front door. Peering through the peephold, I catch sight of Leo. He’s standing there, handsome as ever, his gaze turned slightly to the side as he waits for me to answer.

Would it be terrible if I kissed him?

He did have my dick in his mouth and swallowed when I came, so it has to be okay. Honestly, Cosmopolitan Magazine should hire me as their go-to sex and relationship guru. I’m positive there are women and gay men out in the world dying for advice on these kinds of situations.

I open the door–and there he is. Leo stands just inches away, dressed to perfection in dark jeans and a crisp v-neck that gus his sculpted chest. The look is effortlessly sexy, paired with rugged brown lace-up boots.

My thoughts? Immediately filthy.

His blue eyes lock on mine, filled with a tenderness that catches me off guard, as if he’s been holding his breath and can finally exhale now that this moment—this date—is real.

“Hi,” he murmurs softly, his voice as warm as the smile pulling at his lips.

“Hi,” I replied just as quietly, unable to stop my gaze from wandering.

His hands are clasped behind his back, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s hiding.

“Do you always stand like you’re guarding a Queen, or is there something behind you?” I flirtatiously said.

Leo’s smile widens, playful and boyish.

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” he says, bringing his arms forward.

A beautiful bouquet of flowers appears in front of me.

Thankfully, there wasn’t a single rose in sight, much to my relief. While undeniably romantic, roses carry a weight of formality and significance—an unspoken milestone meant for a different chapter of time. Instead, the flowers Leo had brought were something else entirely—a vibrant bundle of sunflowers, wild daises, and sprigs of lavender. The sunflowers stood tall and bold, their golden faces beaming with confidence, while the daises added a touch of carefree charm. And the lavender, delicate and fragrant, tied it all together with an understated elegance that felt perfectly, unmistakably Leo.

“You didn’t have to get me flowers,” I say, taking them from my date, my fingers brushing against his as I do.

“I saw these and thought of you,” he replies, “something tells me you’re the kind of guy who appreciates the little things.”

I want to brush it off as an overreach, but he’s right. Despite myself, I do find joy in the small gestures that make life brighter. A thought act like this strikes deeper than I care to admit. But how does Leo know that? Is he really that perceptive, or am I wearing my heart on my sleeve without realizing it?

“Thank you,” I say finally, “Let me put these in some water before we head out.”

Leo nods and steps inside, quietly closing the door behind him. The faint click echoes through the room, but it’s quickly overpowered by the subtle yet heady scent of his cologne. It’s warm and woody, with just a hint of spice that fills the air and waves itself into the fabric of the space. I feel it settle into my chest, quickening my pulse without permission.

“You look stunning tonight,” he says bluntly.

I froze for a moment.

“Stunning? I don’t think so,” I said, turning my attention to the tap.

Watching the water from the tap fill the vase, I feel him behind me. His strong hands press against my chest, his fingers curling slightly as they caress and grip my pecs. His touch is firm, unapologetic.

“Leo…” I manage to say, barely audible over the rush of water coming from the sink.

His breath is hot against the nape of my neck, the faint rast of it brushing my skin and igniting every nerve in its path. His body presses against mine, solid and unyielding.

Without thinking, I whirl around and seize Leo’s lips in a deep, hungry kiss. Our tongues meet in a heated dance, the intensity building with every passing second. My hands roam over his hard body, exploring his form with a ravenous need. I can feel his arousal pressing against me, matching my own, as the heat between us grows.

The rough graze of his stubble against my cheek had me nearly melting in his arms. I want him to consume me entirely—but at the same time, a part of me craves something more grounded, something slower. I want us to have that first date.

“Aren’t we supposed to be heading to dinner?” I say against his lips, reluctantly breaking the kiss.

“Maybe I wanted dessert first,” he replies in a husky whisper.

Ugh, this man just knows what to say, making me want him more. Where does this come from? Guys I’ve been with don’t say stuff like this. The closest I’ve come to is in a text message and positive he got it from somewhere else.

“You turn me on so much,” I tell him.

“What exactly turns you on?”

Everything you’re doing to me.

But he doesn’t need to know that yet. Not now anyways. The thought makes me pull back slightly, though every fraction of my being protests. I rest my forehead against his, letting the moment settle around us.

“How about we save this kind of talk for another time,” I suggest.

He nods, understanding. We both straighten out our clothes, the air between us still charged with unspoken want. I turned off the water, arranging the flowers in the vase before setting them carefully on the kitchen counter.

“I hope you like them,” Leo says.

“Absolutely. They’re beautiful.”

A mischievous glint lights up his eyes as he steps closer, “I hope this isn’t too forward, but I really can’t resist the urge to touch you...or kiss you.”

“It’s not forward at all. Sometimes people—like me—need to hear things like that. And Leo, I feel the same way. I’m just...too much of a coward to even bring feelings like that up. I don’t know if this is going to work out once the playroom is introduced.”

Wrapping my arms around Leo, pulling him close, “Well, the night is still young. There’s plenty of time to make it happen again.”

He bit his bottom lip, his eyes flickering with want.

I could feel his want for another makeout session as he leaned in, only to stop just shy of my lips. He wasn’t kidding about resisting urges.

“Should we head out then?” Leo asked, breaking the charged silence.

“Yes, sir,” I replied back with a smirk.

“Sir?” Leo repeated, his tone quizzical.

Making nothing of it, I shrugged nonchalantly, heading toward the front door and grabbing my jacket along the way.

“Just trying it on.”

“And?” he pressed, his curiosity piqued.

I shot him a flirtatious gaze, “I’ll let you know when I find out.”

The car ride to the restaurant was surprisingly smooth, with Leo easing into the conversation. I learned that he was the oldest of two and that his younger sister, Carrie, worked as an obstetrician at Seattle Hospital.

“She’s always loved babies,” he explained, “Growing up, she’d carry around babydolls everywhere. It’s no surprise Carrie ended up delivering them for a living.”

Even with her busy schedule, Leo makes a point to call her often, “We don’t get to see each other much so the phone is our lifeline. Carrie does pop in from time to time at my house,” he added.

Then he mentioned his parents.

His tone softened, “They passed away in a car accident. It’s been...over two years now.”

For a moment, the hum of the engine was the only sound between us.

“It wasn’t because of a drunk driver or anything like that. They were coming home late from a party one of their friends had. Mom was asleep in the passenger side and ultimately my dad dozed off himself. Their car was found wrapped around a tree, both were killed on impact,” Leo explained to me.

The melancholic tone in his voice was unmistakable, though he tried to mask it with a facade of strength. The weight of his emotions lingered in the air between us, hanging like a heavy fog.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up my dead parents and their tragic story on our first date,” he commented next, trying to laugh it off.

What am I supposed to do?

A storm of emotions swirled inside me—sympathy, unease, and a flicker of self-doubt. Part of me wanted to reach out, to offer some form of comfort, while another part hesitated, caught in the uncertainty of where this night—and we—might lead. Finally, I reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“It’s okay,” I softly replied to him.

Luck was on our side as we found a convenient parking spot right by the entrance of the restaurant. It was a perfect blend of rustic charm and sophistication, tucked into a cozy corner of the bustling city. Its exterior was unassuming, with ivy creeping along the brick walls and a vintage sign softly glowing with the name Ember it was grounding. I didn’t think I’d ever been this relaxed—or this intrigued—on a date before.

“You know a little about me from our chat in the car, How about something about you?” he asked.

“Well…,” I began, searching for a good place to start.

“Are we ready to order?” The waitress's voice broke in, her timing impeccable.

We exchange a quick glance, his expression inviting me to go first, “Uh, yes. I’ll have the...Causa Rellena,” I said, trying not to stumble over the unfamiliar words.

“Excellent choice. It’s been a popular choice lately,” the waitress said, beaming as she jotted it down.

“I’ve been told to expand beyond my repetitive tendencies," I said, my eyes flickering to Leo.

He shrugged nonchalantly, meeting my eyes before looking at our waitress.

“And for you?” she asked Leo.

“I’ll have the Aji De Gallina,” he said smoothly, with confidence.

As she walked away, I caught a glimpse of Leo, “Aji De Gallina?” I curiously asked.

“Shredded chicken in a creamy, spicy sauce,” he explained, “I’ll let you have a bite of it…but, where were we?”

“Something about giving you a bit of my backstory,” I said.

“Ah, yes. Please, continue.”

“There’s really nothing special about me. I’m an only child and grew up with parents who drilled nothing but perfection and expected great things from me only to be disappointed that their only son became a book editor at a publishing company,” I said, in one breath.

“Publishing? That seems to be a really great accomplishment,” he responds.

“Try to convince my parents that.”

“What did your parents want you to do?”

“A doctor or a lawyer or anything that requires tons of stress and being paid rather well. I truly think they had me to ensure a lucrative retirement.”

My parents are having a rather charming portrait painted of them with Leo right now. There’s no need to delve into how truly awful they were or how they made my life a living hell growing up. Besides, he’s never going to meet them.

“I don’t see you as anything else,” He said.

“Me neither. Certainly glad, I didn’t fulfill my parents demands. I’d probably quit after the first day of class.”

“Okay, parents are off the table. Tell me about you?”

Leo takes a sip of his water; his blue eyes still focused on mine. Ugh. He is so sexy! His gaze penetrates me, causing my body to tremble with desire taking me back to him on his knees, eagerly devouring my cock in his mouth, an intense star locked onto mine.

I wouldn’t mind waking up to those steel blue eyes each and every morning or even the last thing I see before the day is over.

“As you probably guessed, I’m into reading,” I said with a light laugh, “Honestly, I don’t do much else. Guess you could call me a bit of a bookworm.

“Heartbreaker is something you can add to your list,” a smooth confident male voice interjected.

A gut-wrenching feeling slithers into my ears after hearing the voice, sending a cold shiver down my spine and making my stomach churn in fear, completely terrified to turn around knowing all too well who it belongs to.

“Hello Kyle,” I say as I turn, the low timbre of his voice still lingering in the air, disembodied yet unmistakable.

“Drew,” he drawled, his tone aced with thinly veiled disdain, “what a pleasure.”