Chapter 3 #2
“No whining,” I whispered out loud, repeating one of my dad’s favorite phrases as I slumped down and hugged the pillow to my chest.
The reminder didn’t really help though, and my eyes strayed to my phone again.
I didn’t know why reading all of Gay Daddy’s messages did seem to help when it all started to feel too much, but did I have to understand it, when it worked?
And really, what would the point in deleting the thread be when, embarrassingly, I’d already read through the whole conversation so many times that I’d basically memorized it?
Like the part where he said he had a job he liked.
He obviously hadn’t settled.
Maybe he’d have some tips?
I sat up and grabbed my phone again, getting a sudden surge of energy. And before I could talk myself out of it, I did what I’d been stopping myself from doing all week and sent off a new message.
MONDAY 4:49 PM
Hi! It’s me. Um, Owen?
Oh, but I’m not sure I gave you my name before? So in case you’ve already deleted me, I’m the one who accidentally messaged you last week.
My knee jiggled, but he hadn’t read any of that yet, so I waited. Except, what if he’d blocked me?
No, he was too nice for that.
But what if he didn’t remember me?
I quickly shot off another one.
MONDAY 4:52 PM
In case you don’t remember me, you told me to call you Daddy?
“Owen, you are so cringe,” I mumbled to myself, blushing hard even though there was no one around to see when I remembered that, actually, Gay Daddy had said the daddy thing in the context of someone sucking his…
Yeah, okay. That. Which was why I’d been calling him Gay Daddy.
Oh God. Whyyyyyyyy didn’t texting have an unsend feature like regular chatting did?
I tried to do some quick damage control anyway.
MONDAY 4:56 PM
I mean, sorry, you didn’t tell me to call you Daddy, obviously. But you did say you liked it.
Oh my God, sorry, that was weird.
I mean, not you! You’re not weird. I’m not judging. It was just weird for me to say that.
Oh. My. God. What was wrong with me?
MONDAY 4:57 PM
Don’t worry, I won’t call you Daddy.
I flung my phone across the couch and shoved the pillow over my face again, screaming into it. Why was I like this? If he didn’t already have me blocked from last week, then surely he would do it now.
Then my phone buzzed with a reply and my heart shot into my throat as I dropped the pillow and snatched it back up.
MONDAY 4:59 PM
Hi, sweetheart. Of course I remember you, and you can call me Daddy if you want to. ;)
*Owen. (Now it’s my turn to apologize.)
MONDAY 5:00 PM
No! You don’t have to! You can call me sweetheart!
I mean, obviously you don’t have to. My name is fine.
I’m still not flirting!
I mean, I’m not gay?
In case you were wondering.
I just don’t mind nicknames, is all I’m saying. You’re only the second person to give me one, and it’s
My finger slipped, sending it off again, and I took a deep breath and tried to get my heart to stop beating so fast, then sent off what was hopefully a much saner-sounding text.
MONDAY 5:02 PM
Um, I don’t mind it. That’s all I’m trying to say.
MONDAY 5:03 PM
Good to know. :) What’s your other nickname?
MONDAY 5:03 PM
My roommate Tyler calls me “O.”
I’m not actually sure if that counts as a nickname, or if he’s just being lazy, tbh.
*To be honest.
Um, in case you didn’t know what that meant.
Was that rude to assume he didn’t? Because my parents would throw a fit if I used any acronyms or slang when texting them, and Gay Daddy was old too, right?
Well, not that old. He’d said he was only thirty-five. And sure, that was older than me—like, way older—but I’d Googled some thirty-five-year-old celebrities just for like, some context, and none of them looked old.
MONDAY 5:05 PM
I do know what it means, but thank you for explaining anyway. That’s very thoughtful, sweetheart.
MONDAY 5:05 PM
Thank you, Daddy.
I blinked hard after hitting send. I mean, yes, he’d said I could call him Daddy, and I’d already been calling him Daddy in my head—well, Gay Daddy—and he still hadn’t actually told me his real name, so… so it wasn’t weird?
I bit my lip. Okay, it was weird.
But really, was it any weirder than me just texting him all of a sudden like this?
Oh, I’d had a reason for doing that. I’d almost forgotten about it, but maybe if I just quickly sent him my actual question, he’d sort of skip over the weirdness of me calling him “Daddy.”
MONDAY 5:07 PM
Actually, um, not to bother you anymore but I just had a quick question because you said you liked your job and I wondered what it was?
But I’m not asking to be nosy! And obviously you don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not. I just… I think I might fail out of my classes. I want to be a vet, but if I can’t because I fail college, then I’ll, um, I’ll need to find something else that I like to do and I’m not sure how to do that.
My heart was suddenly pounding, my throat feeling weirdly tight.
I had no idea why I’d thought this would be a good idea.
If I’d said any of that to my roommates, they would have just told me I needed to get laid.
If I’d dumped it all on Hannah, you know, back when we were still dating, she would have gone off about how tough her classes were, like it was some kind of contest. And there was no way I could ever mention to my parents that I might be failing.
After “no whining,” my dad’s other favorite phrase was “real men handle their own problems”.
So why on earth did I think it was a good idea to unload it all on a stranger?
I rubbed my chest. He’d read the messages, but wasn’t typing back yet. And shit, he was a stranger. Just because I’d turned his other messages into some kind of weird emotional security blanket didn’t mean he wanted to hear all about my problems.
MONDAY 5:11 PM
I’m sorry. Obviously, none of that is your problem. I’m not trying to whine about it. I just thought, since you have a job you like, that maybe you’d have some tips on, um, figuring out, like, everything.
But if not, that’s fine! Or just, if you’re busy.
It’s fine.
Sorry.
I won’t bother you again.
MONDAY 5:16 PM
Hold on, sweetheart. You’re not a bother. Not ever. But I am busy for a few more minutes. I’m wrapping up on a job site. I’m in construction, and we’ve got a new foreman who needs to run some things by me before I can give you my full attention. Can you wait a bit for me?
His full attention? My heart was suddenly pounding again, but it felt entirely different than a few minutes ago. I rubbed my clammy hands on my thighs again, not sure what to do with myself.
Oh, ramen?
Ramen!
I hopped up, then spun back around after taking two steps and grabbed my phone. Checking it five dozen times on the walk between the living room and the kitchen, just in case Daddy replied again.
But he’d said to wait, and I could do that.
I groaned, jerking my phone up to re-read it. He’d asked me to wait. And I hadn’t answered.
But that, at least, I could fix.
MONDAY 5:20 PM
Yes! I can wait. Sorry I didn’t reply right away.
I bit my lip. Should I say why I hadn’t replied? Except the only reason I could think to give him was because I was a hot mess, and that was something he’d probably already figured out.
I hesitated for another second, then sent one more message, typing it out fast and then putting my phone face down on the counter while I started boiling water for ramen.
MONDAY 5:22 PM
Thank you, Daddy.
Not that hiding my screen made calling him Daddy any less weird. But he’d said I could, and he did like it when I was polite, so I had to call him something, right?
Besides, if he wanted me to use his name, he’d tell me that.
But once my ramen was ready and he got done with the foreman thing he’d mentioned and messaged me again, he didn’t seem weirded out or ask me to call him anything different.
But he did ask me all about why I wanted to become a vet, and which classes I was taking, and why I seemed to be struggling with them.
And by the time the guys got back from getting pizza, I’d started to feel like maybe I’d actually be able to stick it out in school after all.
Especially when Daddy said it would be okay to tell him if I started feeling overwhelmed again.
That maybe he could even help with that.