Page 27 of The Dramatic Life of Jonah Penrose
Jonah placed his hands on his hips and looked at himself in the mirrors lining the walls. His curls were plastered to his face, the room insufferably hot with no windows to allow in any air, and the sweat patches on his T-shirt were rather embarrassing, to say the least. He directed his eyes toward Dexter, who seemed just as sweaty as him, his shirt sticking to his chest in damp patches, and held out a hand to help him off the floor. Dexter hesitated, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Jonah’s hand before taking it and allowing him to help him to his feet.
“It’s the move before that’s throwing me off,” Dexter said, running his hand across his forehead before reaching for his water. “It naturally makes me want to step left afterward because you’re not close enough.”
If Jonah’s eyes could roll all the way into the back of his head, they would. “So, it’s my fault?”
“No,” Dexter replied quickly. “It’s me, but, yeah, I don’t know.”
“Let’s try it again.” Jonah watched as Dexter finished his water. “From the move before into this one, then we can see exactly where it goes wrong.”
Dexter looked at this empty bottle, then gave a nod. “Okay, yeah, thanks.”
They moved into position in the middle of the room, weapons in hand, as if to prepare to duel for real. Jonah could feel Dexter’s hazel eyes on him, scanning his body, taking in each miniscule movement right down to the tendons in his wrist tensing. Jonah counted them down, and Dexter lunged on the count of one, the move perfect as Jonah maneuveredaround him, close, but not close enough for any actual harm to come to either of them. But then, right after Jonah readied himself for the next move, he saw Dexter veering to the left, and, as he momentarily tried to correct himself, he spun on his heel and tumbled onto the floor.
“Okay,” Jonah said, as Dexter grimaced on his knees before him. “You need to stop thinking about it and looking at your feet. Use my body as your mark rather than the tape on the floor.”
Dexter groaned as he stood up and readied himself to try again. “Okay, sure, let’s try that.”
They tried the move again. This time Dexter went to the right, but when he swung the sword it missed Jonah completely, sailing through the air as if Dexter had no intention of hitting him in the first place. And he needed to hit him, or at least make the audience believe he did.
“You’re not close enough!” Dexter seethed. “You need to be closer.”
“Or you just need to learn how to aim.”
“No,” Dexter snapped and went back to his first mark. “You need to be a step forward than where you usually start.” He pointed at the space of flooring in front of him. “Seriously, stand here.”
Jonah debated arguing with him, but the morning had long since passed them by and his stomach was rumbling and the calls he promised to make for his mum were sitting there waiting to be made. And of course, the text from Edward from the weekend still went unanswered, dancing around in the back of his mind like it was at a disco. So, he stood where Dexter pointed, too close, he never stood that close to the guy currently playing Hector, and he stared at him, his expression deadpan, without an ounce of enthusiasm.
“Closer,” Dexter said, and he placed his free hand on Jonah’s waist and gently pulled him forward. The action was strangely intimate, even more so when Dexter kept his hand there and they looked at each other, Dexter’s eyes searching his, as if asking permission. “Perfect,” he said and left his fingers pressed against Jonah’s hip bone for a few more seconds before letting go to hold his sword properly.
“I’m warning you that if you actually hit me with that thing I’m gonnabe pissed,” Jonah said, nodding toward the sword. “There’s a reason they don’t normally have us this close.”
“I think it will work. Trust me.” God, he asked for a lot. But Jonah decided to hell with it and put his trust in the man who had previously kicked him in the crotch. “The same as always, just closer, okay?”
Jonah nodded, and this time Dexter counted them in, and they started out the move, bodies invading each other’s space, but it worked. Dexter’s hand found its way back to Jonah’s waist and used it to maneuver him into the next position with complete ease. Dexter stepped to the right, swung his sword, and Jonah recoiled back, like he’d practiced, as if Dexter struck him across the chest. They stood motionless after the move, both of them staring at the other with wide eyes before Dexter broke out into the brightest smile Jonah had ever seen. He reminded Jonah of a dog being shown the biggest stick in the park only to be told it was all for him and he could take it home.
“We did it!” he exclaimed, and Jonah bit his tongue to stop himself from saying that, actually, Jonah had always been doing it, so he smiled warmly at him instead.
“Only the killing part left to do,” Jonah pointed out. “But yeah, amazing. Want to try it again?”
“Can we go from the start?” Dexter asked, moving away from Jonah and shaking out his shoulders as he went to his first position. “I want to make sure I’ve got everything locked in here.” He tapped his forehead. “Did you know there was never a fight scene between Hector and Achilles during workshops?”
“Really?” Jonah said in surprise. “But it’s a huge part of the story, why didn’t they include it?”
“They sang instead.” Dexter twirled the sword in his hand as he spoke. “A battle through words, I guess? This is much better.” He stopped speaking and looked at Jonah before darting his tongue along his bottom lip, eyes focused, as if he intended to devour him. “Let’s go.”
Dexter somehow hit every single step without fault, and as they came to the part he had fumbled on he pulled Jonah close again, such a minutemovement, barely noticeable, but it worked, and he stepped to the right and finished with a slightly harder blow to Jonah’s chest. He seemed pumped, an excitement behind his eyes, and Jonah didn’t know if it was adrenaline from finally mastering the move or the thought of getting to smack Jonah repeatedly in the ribs.
A slow clap came from the doorway, where Peter stood with a satisfied smirk on his lips. “Finally!” he said. “Though, don’t think I haven’t noticed the little change you’ve put in there. I’ll allow it if only to get us to move past this and finish, so I don’t go insane.”
“Do you think we should add some more choreo in?” Dexter asked, and honestly, Jonah could kill him for real. He had stuff to do and a show to perform later in the evening; he didn’t have time to play with Dexter for longer than needed. “Because I think the battle is one-sided.”
Peter cocked his head as he took Dexter in. “You want to change the choreography put together by professional choreographers because you think it’s one-sided? Hector’s literally fighting a demigod. Of course it’s going to look that way.”
“Can we just finish, please?” Jonah asked, whining more than he hoped to but not regretting a moment of it.
“Fine,” Dexter said, pouting.
Peter stood by Dexter’s side as they worked through the rest of the moves, demonstrating them first with Jonah before allowing Dexter to take his place, the pacing fast, maybe a little too fast, but Jonah wasn’t about to complain. He could see sweat beading across Dexter’s forehead, his shirt flush with his skin, wet through, and Jonah liked how hot and bothered he seemed.
