49.)

I didn't remember much of Blossom waking me up. I was sitting with my feet on the ground before I even knew what was happening. She stood in front of me and took me by the hand, leading me up the stairs like a kid who stayed up past her bedtime. I rubbed my eyes sleepily under my glasses, which were askew on my nose.

By the time we got to the top of the stairs, I was a little more aware. I still wasn't used to falling asleep in unusual places, but it was growing easier with Blossom around. The bright lights of the spare room blinded me. I whined without thinking, a little mewling note. It was childish, in retrospect.

"What time is it?" I asked quietly. I patted my pockets to find my phone.

"Too late for a little girl your age to be awake," Blossom answered simply. She smiled with a moment of indecision.

Did she prompt Amy to change into pajamas? Did she offer to help? Did she suggest a diaper? Did she offer to help with that? Did she lay with Amy in bed?

Yes. No. Yes. No. No… or maybe?

"You should get dressed for bed, cupcake. Pajamas and a diaper. If you hurry, I might cuddle with you once you're done~"

I felt a little hot and puffed out my cheeks. It was becoming so casual to hear Blossom Brixley talk about my diapers. A part of me wanted to argue with her, but a bigger part of me worried that it would work. I had been thinking about those pink diapers all week...

"Fine," I muttered, crossing my arms. Then, as a passing thought: "You should too."

There were a few routes that Blossom could take with this. She could take the "I'm the adult and you're the baby" route. She could take the "okay, but only if" route. She could take the "you let me worry about me" route. But the route she took was the one that required the least amount of thought.

"Alright, cupcake. I'll go get changed into my nighttime wear, and you do the same. Then maybe I can come back up and cuddle when we're both dressed, okay?"

Plus, Blossom had packed a pink and black babydoll nightgown for this trip, so she technically had matching pajamas to go with it!

Blossom left with one of her black diapers in hand. Once the door was shut, I opened up the chest to get one of mine. I got one of the pink ones out and my own container of baby powder from my backpack. We still only had one container in the house, and Blossom had taken it with her. I didn't bring diapers to the beach house anymore, but I still brought my own wipes and powder just in case.

Changing felt a little like a dream. I was still tired from my nap downstairs and all the tapes on the diaper fell in the wrong spots. I still wasn't used to something this big, and I got a little self-conscious when it was all done up. Once again, I felt like my body was overwhelmed by a parachute, like that game you play in gym class as a kid. I hated sizes on just about everything, and it seemed like diapers were no exception.

I avoided the mirror until I had pulled on my pajama pants and a long t-shirt. The feel of the padding between my legs brought heat to my cheeks, and I could see in the mirror that they had taken on a bit of color. It was nothing I couldn't blame on the central heating, which was blowing at full force to fight against the November cold. As long as I didn't have to look at the diaper directly, it felt amazing.

I was just crawling into bed when Blossom knocked on the door. I had been quiet for so long, I forgot to speak for a second.

"Come in," I said, my voice cracking a little.

Blossom pushed open the bedroom door and stepped inside. Her tall, athletic body wore the black diaper with poise and grace, and the babydoll nightgown she was wearing was sheer in some places and not in others. It was adorned in bows and lace, and it wasn't anywhere near long enough to cover the diaper in entirety. If there was a way to wear an adult diaper in a way that was strictly sexy, Blossom Brinkley had figured it out. Gently, she closed the door behind her, and swayed a little from side to side.

Was that nerves? Or was she showing off?

"Seeing you crawling on the bed in a pretty pink diaper is super attractive, cupcake; I should make you crawl more often."

I would have snapped back at her if I was thinking straight, but seeing Blossom in her diaper and that nightie... I opened my mouth and no words came out.

When Blossom stepped over to me, she crinkled. I actually recoiled, like a scared kitten at the sight of a large snake. I couldn't take my eyes off her, and at the same time, I couldn't look at her either. I tried again to find a word or two, but I couldn't. Finally, Blossom broke the tension.

"You okay there?" she laughed.

I felt my head nod. I finally pulled my eyes off her and fumbled with the blanket, pulling it over my legs. My vision flashed with the afterimage. The short, sheer nightgown. The cute little bows. The opaque cups of fabric around her chest. The glint of black plastic. The echo of crinkling, like it was still reverberating off the walls. And Blossom's dumb little smile, ten parts silly and one part nervous. What the hell did she have to be nervous about?

"Ordinarily I'd say to take a picture 'cause it would last longer, but I can't have pictures of me looking this sexy out there in the wild. My existing sex tapes could never compete."

This was Blossom humor at its finest. She laughed, with a tone that still belied her slight nervousness. She sat down on the edge of the bed, and then slid up to sit adjacent to Amanda. Although she sat on top of the covers, Amy was half-covered by them.

"I'm just tired," I defended, but it was flimsy at best. She looked great. Like, really great. The diaper was at least a whole size too big on her, but the lacy fabric hid that fact pretty well. It was difficult to find the line where the diaper ended and the nightie began. I took a breath and tried again.

"You look really good," I said, forcing a smile. I still couldn't look her in the eye. Before Blossom could say anything else, I shimmied down under the covers and put my head on the pillow. My glasses were still on my face.

"And you!"

Blossom leaned over and plucked Amy's glasses by the bridge and slipped them off, neatly folding them and setting them on the bedside table. Then, with slow movements - slow enough to make it clear to Amy that she could stop her if she wanted to - Blossom began to squirm her legs up, crinkles and all, so she could slide herself down under the covers alongside her.

I didn't look. I could have. My glasses were for things that were far away, not things that were close up, and Blossom was very close up. I pulled the blanket higher up to my neck and looked intently at the ceiling. My heart raced. Under the blankets, I laced my fingers in one another and rubbed my hand with my thumb.

"Do I make you nervous, cupcake?"

It was a question that might have spoiled the moment, but an important one to ask all the same.

"I dunno..." It was a soft answer, one without implication. But it was also untrue. I knew very well that Blossom made me nervous. I sunk a little further into the pillow and looked away without moving my head. What was I supposed to say?

"What would help you feel less nervous around me?" Blossom asked.

"I dunno..." I repeated. This time I meant it. I took a deep breath and tried to work through my feelings. "I don't really... do this. Head on someone's lap. Laying in the same bed. That stuff." Lin and I really didn't have that kind of friendship. I'd outgrown it with my mom. As for a partner... well...

"And is it something you want to do? Think carefully; don't answer right away. Just think about it for a second. It's cool if the answer is no, but it's also just as cool if the answer is yes."

This wasn't quite a consent talk as much as it was an intent talk.

"I dunno..." I said again. It could have been my catchphrase at that point. "I don't want you to feel like... I dunno. You're already doing too much for me."

"I'm doing stuff because I want to, you bimbaby; haven't you heard? I'm Blossom Brixley."

And honestly? Blossom Brixley was a bit of a selfish gal, all things considered.

"I guess so..." I let out a little sigh, but it was not one of relief. It was one of frustration. I didn't know how to explain how I was feeling. "I like when you're... playful. But I don't know if that's the same as me wanting you to be that way." Maybe my lack of experience was showing. I just wanted to roll over and go to bed, but I was still squeezing my fingers under the covers.

"Well… I'd like to keep being playful with you, but if your 'I'm not sure…' becomes a 'I don't want this' you have to promise to tell me, because I spent my entire high school career being pressured into doing things that I sometimes didn't wanna do, and I'd hate to do that to you, cupcake. You're pretty special."

"Not really," I said without thinking. It was an automatic deflection. But it sounded a lot like Blossom was going to take my indecision as affirmation.

Wanting stuff never came easily to me. I felt like I was weaving through a gauntlet of invisible variables, trying to find the right thing to say or the right thing to do. And each variable, as I revealed it, informed my feelings.

Did I want an ice cream sandwich? Yes. But I just ate lunch. Ice cream sandwiches have a lot of dairy, and I might not feel well later. Or what if someone wants to go out for some real ice cream later? Where did the ice cream sandwich come from? Was someone buying it for me? Was it the last one? There were more permutations in which I didn't want the ice cream sandwich than ones which I did, so did I ever really want it at all?

On a fundamental level, I knew consent was supposed to be enthusiastic. But if my life experiences depended on enthusiasm, I wasn't sure I'd do anything at all. I wouldn't write, I wouldn't cook, and I wouldn't go to school. I might not even get out of bed.

So when Blossom suggested that my ambivalence was enough for her, it didn't feel like a bad thing. It felt like I found a back door out of the haunted house that was my mind and emerged into a starlit autumn evening. It felt like I could see a little bit. If that made us bad people - her an abuser and me a manipulator - then I'd don the title for just a slight bit of reprieve. I could hate myself for it later.

"Hey space cadet; you're stuck in your own head again."

When Amy blinked and focused back on the reality of the situation, Blossom decided to capitalize.

"Lay on your side, put your arm over me, and your head on my chest. It makes sense that the littlest cupcake should be the littlest spoon, right?"

When it came to thinking things through, Blossom wasn't half the overthinker that her would-be-crush was. She gave things some thought, yes. But she also trusted her own instincts, and that made it easier for her not to need a second thought on things.

I didn't know if she was right or if this was what I wanted, but Blossom told me to do something. If I had any wants at that moment, it was to listen to her. So I rolled over on my side and draped my leg over Blossom's thighs. Her diaper crinkled, or maybe it was mine. She wrapped her arm around me and pulled my head into the crook of her arm, my cheek against the side of her breast. It felt like my body was a thousand degrees and I wanted to kick off the covers, but I felt paralyzed in place.

Blossom shuffled left, then right, and things felt better. More comfortable. I couldn't tell if it was exhaustion or panic that made me feel sick. But I could hear Blossom's heartbeat in my ear. Thump. Thump. Thump. The slow, steady rhythm felt like a lullaby I lost a long time ago. It bled through me like a habit and my body relaxed with ancient muscle memory. I felt heavy, but in a good way.

"You're a natural at this, cupcake. Now you close those eyes, and dream about all the worlds you could create, and when the morning comes? I promise I'll be right here."

And for Blossom – the queen of the window-tumble-walk-home with bare feet and wadded up panties in her purse – that promise carried a lotta weight.