Chapter 8
Duval
It’s such a joy to watch my boy playing in the sand. Foster sinks even more into his Little mindset with each minute we’re out here.
As I watch him, my boy drops down slowly and runs his hand over the sand when we first arrive. It's as if he's smoothing it out or testing how it feels.
Once he adjusts, it becomes obvious he’s not going to keep his feelings contained. He grabs handfuls of the dirt and begins flinging it up high, making it rain sand all around him. It lands atop his silver-streaked hair and covers his body.
While I want to tell him to calm down, he laughs so hard I can't bring myself to make him stop. He's overjoyed with his playtime.
It's beautiful to watch.
I want him to be like this always.
I contemplate buying a sandbox for my place back in Bellport. Maybe I can get him one and convince him to come over sometime. Surely that's enough motivation to see me again after this trip.
If I have it my way, we'll be seeing each other often. I can't have too many tricks up my sleeve, can I?
When it becomes obvious he's done with his sand rain show, I tell him we should get to building some sandcastles like we planned. Luckily, there's an entire box of tools available for us to use since we didn’t know to bring our own.
This party is very much designed for Littles. I could not be more thankful.
We gather two shovels and one bucket, along with a starfish mold.
“Alright Daddy. This is how you do it,” he tells me in a soft tone.
It's the most he's spoken all day. I can't help but follow his instructions. I will do anything to make him happy right now.
He takes the time to show me how to shovel up the sand just right. Then he has me scooping it into the bucket for him. Once it’s packed just right, he flips it over and pats it down. When he lifts it, the sand crumbles, and he frowns.
“Let Daddy help,” I say quickly, rushing to use the bucket to go get some water.
When I come back, I spread it over the sand so that it gets moist. I repeat the motion and pack it down tightly before easing the cover off. It manages to stay upright. He claps joyously.
We repeat the movement a few more times, making several different pillars, then we dig a moat around it. I scoop up more water to fill the area. A lot of it soaks up, but eventually, we have a moat.
My boy goes about making starfish molds out of sand. He encircles the entire thing until he's done, then he throws his hands up and says, “Ta-da!”.
I clap for him, just as excited as he was before.
He takes a little bow, grinning at me while holding up his fingers as if to take a picture.
I pull out my phone and snap a few shots.
Once I show them to him, he rubs his hands together, turns towards the sandcastles, and then dives for them.
In a move I don't expect, he destroys everything.
He's Godzilla taking down the city with glee.
I chuckle at his movements and how exaggerated it all is. While it isn't how he’s shown himself to be so far, I can see how it would be fun when in a Little mindset.
After he's done demolishing everything, he drops onto his back in the sand. He breathes heavily, and I snap another quick photo to remember the moment.
He's the boy of my dreams, and I can't send the universe enough thanks for sending him my way.
I realize he's far too tired to keep playing after a few minutes of him keeping still. Scooping him up, I dust off as much sand as I can before ushering him back inside.
We have a few snacks and some punch, but he still doesn't seem to be as energized.
“Do you need a nap, little one?” I ask him.
His thumb slips between his lips as he softly bobs his head. Then he leans against my body.
“Why don't you rest here. We’ll head home later? If the party wraps up sooner, I'll get you out, okay?”
I feel him nod against me. He wiggles until he's comfortable, then he’s still as can be. I take the towel I'd grabbed to dust him off with and drape it over his body. It's not as good as a blanket, but it can somewhat simulate it.
Edward passes us a little while later. He smiles and waves, sending a few men my way to chat. We talk about their careers and how they came into the Daddy lifestyle. Their boys color silently on the table surrounding the outdoor seating area where we wound up.
When it's all said and done, my boy naps for about an hour. He shyly blinks up at me and peels his thumb from between his lips after coming to.
He smacks his mouth a few times, as if it’s dry.
I hand over the juice cup I’d snagged for him when the last round of waiters came by.
To watch people carrying trays of apple juice cartons and bottles full of milk was an interesting sight.
It only further affirmed that I was in the right place with the right people.
I kind of hate that my boy missed seeing it. But then again, everything else has been perfect. I'm sure he understands just how blessed we are to have happened upon this party, to have found these people.
“You ready to head out, little one?” I ask him whenever he finishes his carton.
He nods as he hands it over. We make our way out of the house the same way we arrived. The security guard from before gives us a friendly smile this time though.
It's only as we're buckling in the backseat of the hired car they’ve provided us that my boy starts to come to. He looks down at himself and grimaces.
“Daddy,” he says, his tone laced with panic.
I shake my head at him. “I know, little one. I'm going back in to get your clothes now. I can't believe we forgot.”
He blushes but remains seated while I shuffle back inside. Thankfully, the driver doesn't seem bothered to have a Little in a bright pink swimsuit waiting in the car.
Edward meets me right inside the front door. I laugh when I see he's got my boy’s clothes folded neatly in his hands.
“You forgot these,” he says with a smile.
I nod, taking the bundle from him. “Yes. Thank you so much! Foster got a little nervous once we were in the car, and he realized it.”
Edward stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I’m glad you both made it. It was fun.”
I tilt my head, wondering if there's more to the boy than I thought.
My answer comes quickly when he asks, “Is there any way I can get your or Foster's number or email?
I'd like to keep in touch with as many Little friends as I can find.
You know, ‘cause real life can be a lot and sometimes it's nice to have other people.”
I pull out my phone and hand it over. “Sure! Put in your information, then shoot a message to yourself. I'll get you Foster's information too.”
It's then I realize I don't even have my boy’s number. We've been so wrapped up in each other non-stop it hadn't crossed my mind to get it.
Now though, I need it. I have to be able to keep up with him once we’re back in Bellport. There’s no way I'm going to let someone as perfect as him out of my life. I know better than to let an opportunity slip through my fingers.
Once Edward gets everything settled, he hands my phone back over and waves at me. “Don't be a stranger,” he says, turning around and running down the hall as carefree as ever.
I go back to the car and find my boy bouncing in the seat worriedly. Handing over his clothes doesn’t seem to help. He quickly moves to cover his swimsuit with them.
“We'll have to find a way to return this to Edward at some point,” he says in a rush. “Or pay him back or something.”
I can tell he's going back to his big self. It's a struggle though considering he's still dressed like a Little, and I'm still very much in Daddy mode. I place a hand over his, stalling his hurried movements.
“It's okay, Foster. Remember, Edward said you can keep it. He's not worried at all. I got his number, and he said he wants to keep in touch with both of us.”
Wide eyes meet mine. “He does? He wants to be my friend?”
The way he says the word makes it seem like it's a foreign concept for him. Like he's never had anyone who wants to just be his friend or stick around — other than the friends I met on the video call, of course.
Maybe those relationships are newer too.
Could it be that my boy is so secluded that he doesn't understand just how special he truly is? How magnetic his personality is?
Especially when he's Little.
I enjoy all sides of him, but I have to admit that my little one holds my heart.
I nod, smiling as I adjust his shirt. “He does! He thinks that we're awesome and apparently likes to keep his friends close.”
I tell the driver our hotel information. He takes off with ease. We watch the mansion disappear from the back window. It feels a bit surreal.
This entire day— hell the entire trip —does in a way because this kind of thing doesn't happen in real life. You don't stumble upon someone so perfectly matched to you that you can picture a future as clear as day. You don't feel connections like this so soon.
While some might see it as far-fetched, I know exactly how I feel. And I know that all this is very real. I just have to hope that our non-vacation lives don't get in the way of it eventually.