Page 6 of The Virgin
Jonah almost wished he’d have pried.
He smoothed his hands down the legs of his too-tight jeans. “Yeah, that’d be great.”
“Greta came by earlier today.”
“Oh, God. What did she bring you this time?” Greta was always bringing Spencer little treasures. Sometimes big treasures. They had a unique bond and sometimes Jonah wished he did something crafty so he’d have another way to bond with Spencer.
“A box full of pop can tabs. There has to be like a million of them.”
“Where the hell did she find that?”
Spencer shrugged. “Where does she find anything?”
Spencer peered at him from the corner of his eye. Eventually the questions would come, and Jonah had to prepare himself for it. At least he was away from the bar now and feeling steadier than he’d been earlier.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Spencer asked as they pulled into his driveway. “Because I can still turn around and go wring his neck.”
Jonah’s stomach fluttered uncomfortably at the thought of sweet Spencer going after anyone in a violent manner.“I’m fine, Spencer. The only thing hurt is my stupid pride.”
And his dignity. And his ego. Probably his heart and his self-esteem. The list went on, but physically he was unharmed.
“You know the door code to get into the shop. I’ll grab us some water and I’ll be right there. Do you need food?”
“Just the water.”
Spencer gave Jonah a strange look, then nodded and headed into the house. Jonah wandered out back and punched the door code into the keypad and let himself into the shop. He never got over how metallic the shop smelled. Like copper and vaguely of grease, like the scent of engine oil had made itself a permanent part of the concrete floor.
It never ceased to amaze him that Spencer could look at a pile of chain, for example, and say, “Wow, I can make that into a ten-foot-tall bear.”
He’d made a full suit of armor once out of car parts and other scrap metals. It wasn’t a proper suit of armor like a medieval knight would have worn, but rather an interpretation of armor. Something that looked like a Transformer had a baby with a scrap heap. It was impressive.
Jonah sank into one of the chairs in the corner that Spencer kept for when he had company or when he was working on something that allowed him to sit down. It also wasn’t unheard of for Jonah and Damon to invade Spencer’s space when he disappeared for too long.
Spencer entered the shop carrying three bottles of water and a couple bags of chips. He pulled one of the other chairs over and sat down on it, handing Jonah two of the bottles of water. “Hydrate.”
“Yes, Dad.” Jonah cracked the first bottle open and made himself drink half before stopping.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Spencer tore a bag of chips open and held it out to Jonah. “Sour cream and cheddar.”
“Do I have to?” Jonah grabbed a handful of chips and stuffed them in his face. The effects of the alcohol he'd drunk was quickly fading, leaving him feeling wrung out.
“You should at least tell me if you’re okay with how you got that giant hickey on your neck.”
Jonah’s jaw dropped and he reached up, covering the hickey on his neck. “Shit.”
He’d somehow forgotten about his ugly-ass mark in his panic and his pity party. “It was consensual, I swear. I just…” Jonah sighed and let his hand drop away. “It’s pathetic and talking about it makes me feel even worse, so I don’t want to.”
He shoved another handful of chips into his mouth and washed it down with more water.
“You’ve been cagey lately. I need to know that you’re safe.”
Jonah almost choked. “I wasn’t unsafe. Stupid, maybe.”
The worst part about talking to Spencer was that he actually listened. He had a way of sitting and waiting and saying nothing that made Jonah far too comfortable talking to him. He was like the good cop in an interrogation, the guy who sat there and gave you space to come to them with your confession.
“It’s embarrassing,” Jonah started. Already his cheeks burned like twin infernos. Logically, he knew there was no real shame in being a twenty-seven-year-old virgin. Sex was neither morally good nor bad and it didn’t define who someone was. Yet the lack of it in his life was something he became increasingly aware of the older he got.
“Jo, we were both on that road trip where we ate the bad burgers and spent the next several hours in various stages of grotesque agony, doing unspeakable things in public bathrooms. There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”
