Chapter 14 #2
Bastien tapped his phone screen a couple of times as he worked his bottom lip between his teeth. “I don’t know if I should
show you this.”
“What is it?” Jonah reached for his phone, but Bastien managed to sidestep him and kept it from his grasp. “Bastien, show
me.”
“I don’t want you to get mad.”
“I’m gonna get mad if you don’t show me. What is it?”
Bastien reluctantly handed the phone over to him, and Jonah pressed play on the video paused on the screen as Sherrie peered
over his shoulder. It was the Olivier Awards ceremony, a shot from the crowd as Jonah walked toward the camera, his name having
only just been called. Bloody hell, he barely remembered the moment, so seeing himself looking as dazed as he felt seemed
strange. But then, there, in the audience, on the aisle seat, sat a familiar head of blond hair on a body who didn’t rise
to give Jonah a standing ovation. Dexter. Fine, Dexter not wanting to applaud him was totally on-brand for his personality,
but then Jonah saw it, the detail the whole video focused on. Dexter looked over his shoulder to watch Jonah getting closer
and he extended his foot out into the aisle, right in the way for Jonah to trip over it.
He could see it now in his memory, the flash of movement in the corner of his eye, the sweep of blond hair and body moving
as he tried to remember how to walk to the stage. A foot out, moved only at the last second, and Jonah didn’t notice at the
time, but there it was, in startling detail. Dexter wanted him to fall. He quickly scrolled down to the comment section and
scanned the words as quickly as he could:
OMG he tried to trip him!
What a prick.
Dexter Ellis totally tried to trip Jonah Penrose. Jealous, much?
So much for #Dexah.
OMFG he’s a snake.
At least the comments were on his side. No one tried to explain Dexter’s actions away. They all condemned him, his name well
and truly dragged through the mud. And he deserved it. Jonah wiped a hand across his eyes as he passed the phone back to Bastien,
unable to fathom why watching the clip made his eyes water, because there was no way he would be crying over Dexter Ellis.
But Dexter had wanted to humiliate Jonah on the most important night of his life, he wanted to see him fall in front of his
peers and God knows how many people watching the ceremony at home. How could he?
“Are you okay?” Bastien asked, reaching out to pull him into a hug. Jonah allowed it, finding comfort in his friend, and he
repeated to himself that he would not cry, he would not cry, he would not cry. “He’s a massive bell end,” Bastien whispered.
Sherrie wrapped her arms around the both of them and pressed her face against Jonah’s neck. “He’s such a twat.”
“It’s fine,” Jonah said as he pulled away from him. “I don’t want to think about him. I just want to get this over and done
with, then go home and eat cheese in my bed.”
“You’ve got to stop with the cheese. Omari will kill you.”
“It’s all I have left.” He paused for a moment, then groaned. “What’s the betting Colbie will blame this on me somehow? Dexter’s
her golden boy, and this is fucking terrible publicity. She said we can’t have animosity behind the scenes, it’s bad for ticket
sales.”
“Then Colbie is also a bell end,” Sherrie said evenly. “We’ve had a full house every night this week, so she can shove that
where the sun doesn’t shine.”
“Are you guys ready?” A technician asked as he waved them over to him. “Three minutes till you go on. Let’s get you set up.” Bastien took Jonah’s hand into his and gave it a squeeze. Thank goodness he had him and Sherrie by his side.
Dexter bounded over to them after their performance, his hair shining beneath the sun, a Golden Labrador who’d just chewed
up every shoe in the house then shit on the floor and was still happy with himself. Jonah handed his microphone off to the
technicians, turning away from Dexter and his blossom-pink lips. Bastien spoke to him, his tone clipped. Jonah couldn’t make
out what they said, but the cadence of Bastien’s voice alone told him the conversation wasn’t a pleasant one. Bastien, his
own little bodyguard, a chihuahua snapping at the dopey retriever.
“Jonah,” Dexter said, moving closer to him and out of Bastien’s range. “Jonah, I’m so sorry.” The smile on his face from moments
before was gone. “I’d no idea that video would come out.”
“You’re apologizing for the video coming out, but not for what you did in the video? Unbelievable.” Jonah shook his head and
stepped away from him, taking a towel from a backstage member to wipe the sweat from his face.
“Let me explain.” Dexter followed after him. “Please, it was a momentary lapse of judgment. I didn’t actually trip you, did
I? I stopped.”
“A round of applause for you, then,” Bastien said from behind them, jogging slightly to keep up with Jonah’s pace as he worked
his way through the backstage madness of the event.
“Can you just stop?” Dexter asked, and Jonah readied himself to feel the man’s hands on him to halt him, but he didn’t. Dexter
let him continue to stomp through the area. “Let me explain, Jonah!”
Jonah turned on him, face red from exertion, eyes flaming with rage. “What is there to explain?” he hissed at him, determined
to keep his voice down, given the dozens of people surrounding them and the thousands of theatre fans just beyond the barriers.
“I need to get to the theatre and take off this costume so I can go home. I don’t want to hear any convoluted explanations
from you.”
“Jonah, please, let’s go somewhere private.”
“There isn’t anywhere private around here.” Jonah saw a stagehand hovering close to them. “And you have a job to do. So go host, Dexter, have fun, and don’t trip on your way back to the stage.”
Dexter pursed his lips. “Come and speak with me privately.” His voice came out stern, authoritative, and Jonah could see why
he’d been cast as Hector. He exuded dominance, but there was also a kindness there, something soft behind the way he stood,
vulnerable like the night in the Uber.
“Bash?” Jonah directed his words at his friend who stood by his side, loyal, a true Patroclus. “Can we meet back at the theatre?”
“Sure,” he said with a nod. “I’ll go find Sherrie and go back with her.” He turned up his nose as he looked at Dexter. “You’re
lucky. I wouldn’t give you a chance to explain yourself.” Dexter opened his mouth to speak, but Bastien shushed him then kissed
Jonah on the cheek. “See you in a bit.”
Dexter gestured to a beige-looking cabin to the side of a row of Portaloos. “Come on, I’ve got ten minutes before I need to
be back onstage. No one will bother us.”
Jonah could sense the number of eyes on them, averted when they passed but quickly boring holes into the backs of their heads
as they made their way to the cabin. They climbed up the couple of plastic steps into a room that looked like it’d been constructed
out of cardboard. Inside, a small table was placed against the wall with a tiny circular mirror propped up on top of it.
“Is this your dressing room?” Jonah asked, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room as Dexter closed the door behind them.
“It’s super fancy.”
“Oh fuck off.” Dexter sighed. “You can’t help making a dig, can you?”
“That’s so rich coming from you, Dexter.”
“I didn’t trip you, did I? Can’t we move past this?”
“But you wanted to! You were going to before any form of sense clicked into place! It was the Oliviers, Dexter. Why would you want to humiliate me like that? I didn’t even know you then, but you wanted to make me look like an
idiot on the most important night of my life.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t think you are.”
“I am,” Dexter conceded. “I shouldn’t have done it. I only did it because—”
“You were jealous.”
Dexter rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his feet. “Well, yeah. And it was childish and stupid, I know that.
But, just so you know, I wouldn’t try anything like that now, not now I know you.”
“Oh? Now you know me? You’ve been awful to me this whole time. It wasn’t until you threw up all over me you seemed to change.”
Jonah laughed bitterly at him. “You hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Then why are you like this with me?”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Dexter asked. “You really don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
Dexter groaned and dropped his hand from his neck to reach forward and grasp Jonah by the sleeve of his costume and pull him
forward. They were too close; Jonah could feel Dexter’s breath whispering against his cheeks, his eyes darting across his
face, trying to search Jonah for something. Dexter’s other hand found its way to Jonah’s cheek, and he ran his thumb along
his cheekbone. Jonah flinched slightly at the touch before relaxing at the invasion of space. His heart thumped painfully
against his chest as they looked at each other, and then, without thinking of the consequences, Jonah closed the gap between
them and pressed his lips to Dexter’s.
It took a moment for Dexter to respond, the tension in his body dissipating until he let go of Jonah’s costume and used his
hand to cup his other cheek, kissing him softly, sweetly. Jonah’s hands found their way to the other man’s waist, pulling
him closer by his belt loops so their bodies were flush, not an inch of space between them. He’d kissed Dexter before as Achilles,
he knew what his lips felt like, how he moved himself and how his skin felt against his. But this, this was different; he
wanted to kiss him this time. When did he start wanting to kiss Dexter Ellis? The penis destroyer—the lip biter and clothes
vomiter?
Dexter’s tongue swiped across Jonah’s lips until they deepened the kiss, Jonah backing up until he hit the wall and Dexter’s body covered his, making him feel small despite their similar height.
Dexter’s fingers worked through Jonah’s curls, the small gasps they made devoured by the kiss.
Dexter pushed his leg between Jonah’s thighs, earning him a moan from Jonah he wanted to take back, but couldn’t.
Fucking hell, what was he doing moaning in front of him like some idiot being felt up for the first time?
But then Dexter moaned back, the sound guttural, needy, and the noise alone made something stir inside of Jonah.
He broke the kiss, his hands pressing against Dexter’s chest, pushing him away as they both panted heavily, eyes locked on each other.
“Did I do something wrong?” Dexter asked, lips glistening, plump, more red now than pink.
Jonah shook his head. “No. No . . . I just . . .” he trailed off as a knock on the door interrupted them.
“Dexter, you in there?” a male voice sounded. “We need you onstage in two.”
“I’ll be right out,” he called, then turned his attention back to Jonah. “I’m sorry, I have to—”
“No, it’s fine, seriously, go.”
Dexter nodded. He looked like he might go in for another kiss, but he didn’t, his hands clenched into fists as he swallowed
thickly. “I’ll text you.”
And for once, Jonah couldn’t wait to see what Dexter would send him.