Page 9 of The Virgin
“Do I smell waffles?”
“With extra syrup.”
“And coffee?” Jonah moved his arm off his face and peered at Spencer.
“With an aspirin chaser.”
“Amazing.” Jonah closed his eyes again and, after a few deep breaths, pushed himself up into a sitting position and got himself comfortable, propped up against the headboard.
Spencer handed Jonah his breakfast, complete with his side of painkillers. He didn’t mention the night before or the change in their usual post-drinking breakfast routine.
“Chandelier,” Jonah said after his first sip of coffee.
“I—what?”
“Pop tabs,” Jonah elaborated.
“Pop tabs?”
“You could make a chandelier out of the pop tabs Greta brought you.” Jonah chewed on a bite of waffle like this was the most normal conversation in the history of their friendship. “Or one of those curtain thingies, like the bead curtains, but pop tabs.”
“I’ll think about it.” Spencer had no idea what a chandelier made out of pop tabs would look like, besides a disaster, but he was willing to humor Jonah. For now. It was clear to Spencer that Jonah was in damage control mode and was doing his best to pretend that last night hadn’t happened. Spencer would let it slide for now, but he didn’t intend to stand by and do nothing while his friend imploded.
He wanted to help Jonah, but first he had to figure out how.
“Are we still on for dinner with Damon tonight? My place, six-ish?”
“Of course.”
Jonah nodded and shoved the last of his waffle in his mouth before washing it down with a large gulp of coffee. “I should head home and get some shit done, then. I have to check a few things and mark some stuff.”
Spencer doubted any of that was true, but Jonah needed space. So long as he didn’t cancel dinner, Spencer would let him be for a while.
“If you don’t want to wriggle back into your pants from last night, you can wear those home. Did you need a lift?”
“I’ll take you up on the offer to keep the pants, and I hate that I have to take you up on the offer of a lift home. I’ve imposed enough.”
“It wasn’t an imposition.”
Jonah shrugged and finished his coffee, but he had the decency not to argue.
CHAPTER 5
JONAH
For as far back ashe could remember, whenever Jonah had something on his mind, he threw himself into cooking and cleaning. When he was younger, it was an unchecked compulsion that had him up at all hours of the night scrubbing and cooking.
As an adult, Jonah was slightly more in control. He hated running outside where people could see him, but he’d bought a secondhand treadmill a few years ago and he used it when he had excess worry and nothing left to cook or clean. He was on it now, running at a pace that would make him throw up if he kept going much longer. He couldn’t, though, because he had to shower before Damon and Spencer got there.
Fucking Spencer. Jonah’s knees quaked, and he hit the button to slow the treadmill down to a brisk walk. He had no idea what to do about last night. He’d bared his soul to his best friend, and while most people had best friends for that exact purpose, it wasn’t how Jonah had ever navigated their friendship. Or any other friendship, for that matter.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to let anyone get close; it was like he didn’t know how. Last night had been a rare occurrence fueled by bad decisions, a smattering of embarrassment, and far too much alcohol.
Jonah completed his cool down and staggered into the shower. He ignored his stupid dick, the same idiot piece of machinery that wouldn’t work last night when he’d needed it to but had developed a Pavlovian response whenever he thought about Spencer.
Jonah thought about canceling on his friends, but he couldn’t think of an excuse that wouldn’t raise the alarm. He felt transparent in a way he wasn’t used to, like the reason for his every move was now something Spencer would know. If he told them not to come, Spencer would see right through him, and he’d probably show up anyway to check on him.
But he was almost afraid of how his relationship with Spencer might change now that he’d gone and blubbered drunkenly all over the man. Jonah had done his best in his life to be as self-sufficient as possible, but no man was an island, and there were some things he couldn’t take care of himself. Like his virginity. Or the yearning that crushed him some nights, alone in the dark, to have someone to talk to in hushed tones. There was no one there to whisper his dreams to. No one to push the hair off his face and smile at him. No one at all who needed him.
