Chapter 12
Zeke
“Great show, man,” Gio says, clapping me on the back after our final bow. “Whatever gum you were chewing earlier was a nice touch.”
“Is that why you used so much tongue tonight?” I reply with a smile, riding the high from the good performance.
“Holy shit, did you just make a joke?” Gio says, feigning a look of shock. Or maybe it’s genuine since I’m not usually the teasing type.
“Sounds like it.” I shrug, still smiling. Maybe this is what other people experience on a daily basis. Maybe it’s possible to go through life without feeling like a boulder is crushing your chest every day, which makes me wonder who I would be if the stress of surviving didn’t weigh me down.
Sometimes I feel like I see glimpses of that person when I’m with Talon, but there’s always the nagging guilt and fear of Derek’s reaction to our friendship acting as the boulder, making it hard for me to truly lean into that relationship.
But tonight gives me hope.
And that’s dangerous.
Far more dangerous than my secret friendship with Talon. More dangerous than the crush I’ve developed on him. Even more dangerous than pissing Derek off.
But I don’t want to focus on that right now.
Behind me, Gio has moved on to another conversation.
“Ask him,” Cordelia says.
“Why? He always says no,” Garrett argues.
It hurts to hear, but he’s right. I never go out after rehearsals or shows because I know Derek is waiting for me, and the argument we’re sure to have isn’t worth the time away.
“I’m going to ask him. He should at least be invited. If he says no, that’s on him,” Gio says.
I busy myself with my shoes, pretending I don’t know what they’re talking about as my co-star comes over.
“Hey, Zeke,” Gio starts as he approaches. “A few of us are going to grab a drink and a bite to eat at the pub next door. You want to come?”
I do. I really fucking do.
I’m teetering on the edge of my moral compass, begging the needle to tick to the left just a little. Omission is a gray area, and Derek won’t ask any questions if I’m home by midnight.
“Sure,” I hear myself say. “I can’t stay long, but I’d love to come hang out for a few minutes.”
Gio’s face lights up as though I just made his whole day, and warmth fills my chest. It’s like there’s suddenly a sliver of light peering into the dark corners of my life, making me realize that maybe, just maybe, I can find…dare I say it?
Happiness.
“No shit! Really?” Gio says with a wide smile.
“Yeah. Sounds fun.”
I really don’t expect many people to give a crap about my presence, but a chorus of cheers and various affirmations ring through the air at my commitment to tag along, taking the edge off my loneliness.
We finish getting redressed and enter the restaurant next door. It’s busy, but not overly crowded. More than a few theater patrons are here, still dressed nicely for their night out, but the atmosphere really fits everyone.
I follow my group to a table in the back and settle in. At first, it feels awkward as they discuss an inside joke that I’m not a part of, but eventually, conversation turns toward the play, and we begin dissecting our performances, intermittently offering praise and helpful feedback to each other.
About ten minutes later, my phone vibrates in my pocket, making me jump. I thought surely I’d have more time than that.
Pulling it from my pocket, I stare at the now-familiar number on the screen. No name accompanies it, but there’s no need for one. I know who it belongs to.
555-8772
Incredible job tonight. You really shone on that stage.
Me
Thank you for coming. And for the coffee. It was perfect.
555-8772
Just like your performance. I’ll be back at work tomorrow. See you then.
Me
Looking forward to it.
That last line is dangerously close to flirting, but it’s also a sincere statement. I slide my phone back into my pocket and take a sip of the water placed in front of me.
Not even five minutes after that, I feel someone at my back.
Gio’s eyes widen slightly over my shoulder, and dread fills my whole being.
But it’s not Derek’s hand that lands in the space between my shoulder and neck, squeezing gently.
“Hey, Zeke!” Talon says in the friendliest tone imaginable. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but I just saw you guys sitting over here and wanted to congratulate you in person.” Addressing the rest of the cast, he adds, “All of you did a really amazing job tonight.”
I swear I’m melting, dripping off this chair right onto the floor.
And then I look up at him and holy motherfucking shitballs.
Talon’s in a suit. The man was made for a suit.
It fits him perfectly. The light blue button-down underneath the black jacket has the top two buttons opened and his suit coat is unbuttoned as well.
He’s not wearing a tie, keeping the look closer to casual, even though there’s nothing fucking casual about the way he looks right now.
My mouth goes dry, and it’s suddenly a hundred and eighty degrees in this place.
Talon returns his attention to me, his hand still on my body, scalding my skin.
“Zeke? Who’s your friend?” Gio asks, rebooting my brain.
“Oh, uh, guys, this is Talon. We work together at Summit.”
Garrett laughs. “You work at a restaurant?”
Talon shifts his weight next to me.
“Yeah. I really enjoy the hospitality industry,” he answers smoothly.
“Thank you again for coming tonight,” I manage to say, wanting all of Talon’s attention to myself. Until a woman steps up next to him, grabbing his arm with affection.
My stomach swirls violently, giving away my jealousy and the fact that I wish Talon and I could be more than just friends.
“Oh, El, come meet Zeke!” Talon says excitedly, pulling her to the table. He moves her to stand in front of him, so she’s now between us, and I hate her just a little for it. “Zeke, this is my sister, Eloise,” Talon says, beaming with pride.
His sister.
Sister.
Two syllables have never sounded more beautiful.
“El, this is Zeke. He played Nathaniel, the main character.”
Eloise holds out a dainty hand while looking over her shoulder at her brother with a smirk.
“I know who he played, Tal. I was there, too. Remember?”
“Yes, of course,” he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen siblings get along quite like this. It’s oddly endearing. Suddenly, Eloise drops my hand and opens her small purse, pulling out her phone. When she flashes it at us, I read Mom on the screen.
“Excuse me. I’d better take this. Lovely meeting you!” she says before rushing off.
She scurries to a quieter corner, leaving Talon standing alone at our table.
I introduce him to the rest of the group, and Gio slides closer to Cordelia. “Pull up a seat, Talon.”
He wastes no time doing just that.
“Who knows how long that’ll take?” he says, throwing a thumb toward Eloise.
“Our mom is a talker.” I stare in awe, my mouth literally hanging open when he inserts himself effortlessly into the group’s previous conversation, making points about voice projection and suggesting they dim the background lights for the next show to keep the focus on the foreground where the action is happening.
“I had to squint against the background lights to focus. It would be an easy fix if they’re willing to take feedback.”
When he looks at me, he places his index finger under my chin and pushes up, closing my mouth, which had apparently fallen open in shock.
With a wink, he says, “Told you I was genuinely interested.”
Oh, my fucking God.
My balls start tingling, and my pants are growing tighter. Much tighter.
Eloise returns a few minutes later, holding the phone out.
“She wants a word.”
Talon takes the phone, and instead of looking annoyed at the interruption to his night, he answers with an enthusiastic, “Hi Mom!”
Eloise blends in just as seamlessly as her brother, although she has a sharper edge.
Talon isn’t gone as long as she was, and when he returns, he sets a glass in front of me. Tiny bubbles race to the surface of the liquid.
I look up to find Talon already staring down at me. Behind him, a waitress is holding a tray with enough glasses of Prosecco for everyone.
As the rest of the table is busy receiving their drinks, Talon leans down and says, “I noticed you’re the only one who didn’t have a drink, and I wanted to make a toast, but didn’t want to call you out.
There’s no pressure to drink it, though.
And just so we’re clear, this is a celebratory drink. Not a pity drink.”
I barely register the words because the warmth of his breath on my neck makes my dick strain against my zipper and blurs the edges of my vision.
“A toast!” Talon says, snapping his attention back to the table far more quickly than I can.
Now the only one standing, he easily reaches the center of the table, but his groin is right next to my shoulder.
Fuck, I haven’t even had one sip of alcohol yet, and I already want to turn my face into him.
Desire has been missing from my life so long that feeling its presence now physically rocks me, and to my horror, I end up brushing against Talon’s upper thigh. It’s too loud to issue an apology, so instead, I try to move away quickly, putting space between our bodies.
But before I can create any distance, Talon plants his big hand on my opposite shoulder, very casually holding me against himself.
It’s not like I can feel his dick through his pants. It’s a completely benign move as he continues the toast, but it’s waking up things inside of me I thought were too damaged to ever make an appearance again.
“To a successful opening night for The Truth in the Mirror. May we all have Nathaniel’s courage to examine our lives and love ourselves in spite of what we see and whom we believe ourselves to be.”
Most days, I hate what I see, but maybe it’s time to take some dramatic steps toward changing that.
The hope that courses through me is overwhelming in the best way possible. It’s like being physically close to Talon allows his strength to bleed directly into my veins.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?”
The veins that were filled with fire only a moment ago now fill with ice as Derek squeezes into our table. Talon tenses beside me. As he takes his seat, he slides his hand to my knee discreetly under the table.
“Derek!” I shriek in surprise, trying my hardest to act like I’m thrilled that he’s here.
He plants a kiss on my temple as he drapes his arm across the back of my chair, making me want to vomit. Mostly because Talon’s hand falls from my knee as Derek’s arm claims me from the seat he wedged next to me on the other side.
“Forgot my invite, did you?” he asks sweetly.
“I wasn’t planning on staying long,” I explain.
He takes a sip of my champagne.
“It’s okay, Buttercup. We can stay as long as you’d like.
Tonight’s all about you,” he says loudly enough for everyone to hear.
I loathe when he calls me Buttercup. It’s so fucking condescending and weak.
Why couldn’t he just call me baby or babe or even just use my fucking name since he doesn’t actually give a shit about me?
No one at the table can see the way his arm has moved from the back of my chair to my side, where his fingertips are pinching me so hard I have to grind my teeth to avoid grimacing.
It’s a promise of what’s to come, and just like that, the most magical night turns into a nightmare.