Chapter Twenty-One #2
Jonah missed the stage. His soles itched for the floorboards and his body cried out for his costume.
Social media seemed rife with rumors over his absence, concern over how badly he’d been hurt, if his mental health had also taken a beating, and worry over whether he would even return to the Persephone.
Colbie messaged him each day, not to check in on his well-being, but just to enforce the social media blackout, even though Melanie told him to post whatever the hell he wanted.
In some ways, he felt guilty that the incident overshadowed the new cast’s first week; he knew the spotlight didn’t linger around for long and he’d redirected it, stealing it all for himself.
But he didn’t want it. He just wanted . .
. he wanted to be back. He wanted to be laughing with Bash and Sherrie while Dexter annoyed the hell out of him. He wanted—
The Penis Destroyer: Can I come over? x
Jonah: Thought you were having drinks with your dad tonight? x
The Penis Destroyer: Long story xxx
Jonah: Sure. I’m up. Don’t think this is me agreeing to a booty call though x
The Penis Destroyer: I wouldn’t dream of it x
Jonah got out of bed and pulled a T-shirt on over his head, then made his way downstairs to wait for him. They’d not seen
each other since Dexter left the morning after the incident. They’d messaged, of course, but physical contact remained elusive,
and Jonah certainly didn’t think he’d see him tonight; even if Dexter wasn’t seeing his dad, a cast party had been planned
for after the show, which he would no doubt go to. Yet, he’d chosen Jonah, and Jonah tried to suppress the warm feeling in
his chest as he thought of what that could mean. If it meant something or nothing at all.
For, since he saw Melanie, Jonah’s reality didn’t feel steady. The floor seemed uneven, crumbling, and his perception of Dexter
slightly blurred. If Colbie really wanted Dexter to take over as Achilles, then did he know about it? Was it something he
signed on knowing would eventually happen, and if he did, was this whole thing they were playing out together some kind of
joke? No. No, he couldn’t think like that. Not when Dexter was knocking at his door, reaching out to him and only him after
his first full week onstage at the Persephone.
“Wow,” Dexter said when Jonah answered the door. “How does your face look worse today than what it did Wednesday? Does it
still hurt?”
Jonah very nearly slammed the door in his face. “Well, fuck you,” he said instead. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He stepped
aside to let Dexter in. “And no, it doesn’t hurt much now, but why would you think that’s a—” He stopped as Dexter pulled
him by the collar of his shirt and pressed a kiss to his lips.
“That’s right, get all wound up for me,” Dexter whispered against his mouth, then kicked the door with his foot to shut it.
“Love it when you get all annoyed like that.” He wrapped his hands around Jonah’s waist and kissed him again.
“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment I left.
Been thinking about you constantly.” He backed Jonah up against the wall and trailed his lips down his neck.
“I told you I wasn’t your booty call,” Jonah said, but let his head tip back to allow Dexter better access to his skin.
“You’re not going to let me take you upstairs and fuck you?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. His voice sounded wrecked already, gravelly and low. Jonah couldn’t even answer him, his mind repeating
Dexter’s words like a damn broken record.
“Well, babe?” Babe. Jonah never really cared about casual “babe”s flung between him and his friends. But Dexter calling him babe? Who knew he could be so completely and utterly simple in the bedroom that a babe would make him go weak at the knees?
“What happened to your dad?” he asked, and Dexter pulled away from him abruptly. It was as if Jonah had picked up the sexual
tension between them and pissed all over it. “Sorry if I’ve just killed the mood.”
“Yeah, well, bringing up my dad when I said I wanted to fuck you will do that.” He wiped his hands on the front of his jeans.
Jeans. Jonah had never seen him wear jeans before. He looked at the rest of him then, a black long-sleeved T-shirt with a
burgundy shirt opened over the top of it and navy sneakers. Remarkably casual.
“Sorry,” Jonah said again as they stood awkwardly in the hallway. “But seriously. Didn’t he come?”
“He came.” Dexter looked down at his feet. “Sent me a text during the interval to say he was leaving.”
“What? Why?”
Dexter fiddled with his fingers, then shrugged uncomfortably. “He said, and I quote, ‘I don’t want to watch a fucking pansy
show.’”
Jonah could feel his mouth hanging open as he looked at Dexter, his impression of a goldfish spot-on. “What the hell?”
“Typical Dad.”
“What a wanker.”
Dexter shrugged again. “Whatever. Let’s not talk about it.”
“It hasn’t upset you?”
“Do you want it to upset me?” He looked back at Jonah. “Is that what you want?”
“What? No. I just . . . thought you might want to talk about it? Didn’t he see you in it when you were at the Fringe or on
tour?”
Dexter sucked in a sharp breath. “No. He didn’t. And good, too, or he would have seen me making out with another guy onstage.
At least tonight he got to live out his fantasy of me being straight for a while. Good old manly Hector with his wife.” He
shoved his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t come here to talk to you about my dad, though, Jonah.”
Jonah moved past him to go to the kitchen and flicked the kettle on. “Tea?”
“Jonah,” Dexter groaned as he followed him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I didn’t say we had to,” Jonah said, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard then plopping a tea bag into each. “I’m just making
tea.”
“Tea makes people talk.” Despite his words, he started opening the kitchen drawers until he came across the cutlery and handed
Jonah a teaspoon. “I just can’t believe he didn’t even have the decency to stay until the end,” he said as he watched Jonah
pour the boiling water into the mugs. “To get to my dressing room to see that message felt like he’d just come in and kicked
me in the balls.”
“Is kicking people in the balls something that runs in the family?”
A small ghost of a smile made its way to Dexter’s face. “That was a genuine accident.”
“Yeah? And not knowing who I was . . . was that genuine?”
“No,” Dexter admitted. “I freaked out seeing you there and didn’t know what to do, and for some reason pretending I didn’t
know who you were seemed like the best thing to do.”
Jonah raised his eyebrows as he stirred the tea. “So, the comment about how good Photoshop can be was just you being a massive
dick?”
“Are you trying to say I’m like my dad?”
Jonah stopped and looked at him. “No, not at all. No offense, but he sounds like a homophobic idiot. That’s not you.”
“You know, he’s never met anyone I’ve dated,” Dexter said. “Even my long-term boyfriend. We lived together, his brother’s
kids called me Uncle Dex. I really, really loved him, and I asked my dad time and time again if he would come meet him, or if we could go to him, whatever he wanted,
but he always said no. He once said my sexuality was just a phase like my love for the theatre.”
“Jesus Christ, Dexter. Why do you still keep trying with him?” He handed Dexter some tea, and Dexter took it from him gratefully.
“Because he’s my dad.” He blew out air over the drink, the steam tickling his cheeks, then took a quick sip. “I told you tea
makes you talk.”
“You started talking before you had any of that.”
“But it was in the room. The aroma got to me. It got me talking about my dad and my ex. Good times.”
“How sexy,” Jonah said with a wink. “Love a bit of dad and ex talk.”
“I don’t think you’re one to talk about things being sexy when you’re standing there in the baggiest pajamas and a cup of
tea in hand. It’s hardly saying ‘come to bed,’ is it?”
“It’s saying exactly what I want it to say.” Jonah cupped his tea in his hands and leaned against the counter. “Aren’t you
exhausted? After a two-show day, all I want to do is sleep for a week.”
“I think I’m high on adrenaline.”
“Was it a good first week, even with the shit from your dad?”
“It was amazing.” He smiled the smile Jonah was so used to seeing, his face as bright as the sun, beautiful, golden. “It would
have been better if you were there, though. No one can kill me like you do.”
Jonah placed a hand over his heart and grinned. “What a compliment.”
“I mean it,” Dexter said, tone surprisingly serious. “You’re amazing.” Jonah could see something in the way Dexter’s jaw clenched,
something tense, something he couldn’t quite understand that made a deep pit of unease settle in his stomach.
“Thank you.”
“Will you be back next week?”
“If Colbie lets me.”
Instead of answering Dexter nodded and drank his tea. The mere mention of Colbie’s name caused a frost to edge into the room.
Dexter let out a yawn and placed his mug down beside the sink. “I should probably head home.”
“You’re not staying?”
“I don’t want to intrude more than I already have. I wasn’t like . . . planning on staying the night or anything.”
Jonah could feel an unpleasant sinking feeling in his stomach. “I told you I didn’t want to be a booty call, Dexter.”
“You’re not. I thought . . . I thought we were clear about what this was between us?”
“We were?”
“Casual,” Dexter stated simply.
Jonah nodded slowly. “Right. Casual. Yeah.”
Dexter ran his hands through his hair, his expression slightly pinched, exasperated. “Jonah, if that isn’t something you’re
happy with, then we can . . . I don’t know. Forget this?”
“Do you want to forget it?”
“No.” He sighed. “No, of course not. I just want us to be on the same page.”
Casual still sounded like a rotten word scraping at Jonah’s skin. He didn’t know how to be casual. He didn’t know the lines of it,
the blocking, or the stage directions. But he wanted Dexter, he wanted to feel his mouth on him again, he wanted to kiss him,
because fuck it, he’d somehow annoyingly grown to like the guy.
Jonah placed down his half-drunk tea and stepped closer to Dexter, running his fingers down his arm slowly. “We are on the
same page,” he said, lying but knowing he could get to the book Dexter read from. It might just take some time. “And I think
it would be rude to leave now when you had the intention of taking me upstairs to fuck me. That is what you said, isn’t it?”
Dexter closed his eyes for a moment before looking back at Jonah again. “And you said you weren’t a booty call.”
“Booty calls never include tea.”
Dexter kissed him, the movement quick, hungry, and Jonah kissed him back, hands cupping his cheeks as Dexter wrapped his arms
around his waist and pulled him closer. “Thank fuck for tea,” Dexter said against his lips, and Jonah would create a river
of tea if it meant Dexter would kiss him like that forever. No. Forever and casual didn’t mix. For now, casual would have
to do.