Page 36 of Stars Like Confetti

"Considering that make out session you two just had in front of me, I'd say that could handle it."

My cheeks were on fire. "It was a harmless kiss!"

"Seriously? I saw their tongue stud in your mouth!"

Unfortunately for me, Tyler chose that precise moment to plop down in the free chair at the table, dropping a pack of sour straws in front of us. "Don’t you know Shea loves an audience."

Sophie's jaw hit the floor. "You what?"

"We're not friends anymore," I said to Tyler, swiping a couple of his sour straws as penance.

He ignored me, instead describing in explicit detail what happened between us the other night. Somehow, they both knew that I would have put an end to the conversation if I was truly uncomfortable. We were attending a kink camp after all. I relaxed in my chair and listened to Tyler's account of things while my face turned as red as his strawberry sour straws—I stole a couple more.

Then there was a pair of warm lips against my cheek, and a sandwich set in front of me. "If you're going to gorge yourself on sugar, you have to have real food. You know that."

"Yes, Da," I responded without thinking, leaning into the kiss.

They peered across the table at Sophie. "Did you bring a swimsuit?"

Sophie nodded, and Theo nuzzled into my neck. "Go get it. I've stared at paperwork for so long that words don't make sense anymore." Their laughter tickled, and I scrunched into their arms. "Why don't I take you guys swimming?"

"Me too?" Tyler asked, perking up. "Jordan's been busy all morning."

"Yeah, you too. Do you need help getting changed?"

“Nope!” Then he was out of his chair, nothing more than a bouncing bundle of curls down the hall.

Theo dropped their hand and smacked my padded butt. I found myself grateful that they made Sophie busy before doing so. Age play I could talk to her about. Diapers? That was a whole other ballgame. "Let's go, little one."

Chapter Eighteen

Theo

I felt bad. I was the reason that Jordan was so busy but I'd been stuck in the office all morning. After having Shea glued to my hip all week, spending a few hours away from him was torture. Besides, I'd been waiting all week to meet Sophie, and she hadn't disappointed. I couldn't believe she'd tracked me down.

All starting with a tiny, shitty little tattoo. I'd have to see what the “artist” was up to these days and offer to buy her dinner… or a house… or a plane. If Jordan thought he was going to cover up the ink up now, he had another thing coming. I reclined on a beach towel, watching Shea and his friends splash around in the water. It was the first time all week that Shea had been comfortable taking his shirt off, and only after I'd removed mine. More often than not, he'd found one reason or another to weasel me away from my binder in the morning. If I was truly uncomfortable, he'd produce it from his bag and kiss away any worries of disappointing him that may have shown on my face. Once we were alone, he'd make up for it by going down on me until I was so overstimulated that I couldn't see straight.

Today, I'd opted to wear it. The end of camp was proving to be stressful, and the binder felt like a tight hug. I'd paired it with the denim shorts that Shea seemed to love: He would make me put them on in the mornings, and practically rip them off me at night.

It seemed as if we'd picked up exactly where we left off. There was none of that first date awkwardness, no tense "getting to know each other" phase. We'd already done that; spent countless hours tasting, touching—exploring. With words, hands, and mouths. This was just… pressing play on a movie that had been paused for years, one where you remembered every detail.

I snapped out of my trance when Sophie broke away from the boys and started my way. My heart inexplicably began to pound against my chest. I had no reason to be nervous. After all, she wouldn't have practically hand-delivered Shea to me if she didn’t trust me. Then again, this was the person that had seen him through his darkest times, had helped him find his grip when he fell to rock bottom and carried him out of the darkness. I both appreciated her… and envied her. And the small side of me that churned with jealousy fueled the hatred I had toward Shea's parents.

How they could ever put him through that… I had half a mind to track them down myself and give them a piece of my mind. After all, I wasn't a scrawny teenaged girl anymore.

"Oof," Sophie said, dropping onto the towel next to me. "I'd hate to be the person making you scowl like that." She gestured to the bag of drinks and snacks. "Can I have some of those?"

"Help yourself." I nudged it her way. Her dark hair barely held onto its bun, falling in wet coils in her face and her damp blue swimsuit shimmered in the sunlight. "Sorry. You caught me deep in thought."

"About what?"

"The poor excuse for humanity that are Shea's birth giver and sperm doner." Calling them “parents” was way too kind.

"Ah." Sophie cracked open a bottle of water and took a few long drinks of it before she continued. "I've spent so many nights convincing myself that prison orange is not my color."

"Might be mine," I scoffed.

"Shea wouldn't want you to do that."