Page 54 of The Dramatic Life of Jonah Penrose
“You’re not a dirty secret.” Dexter’s stoic expression changed then. It softened, and he ran his fingers through Jonah’s curls. “I just don’t want there to be any pressure on us.”
Jonah thought of Edward and wondered if he once told Wes he didn’t want anyone to know about them, to keep their relationship a secret so Jonah would never find out. Did Wes think he was casual with Edward? Is that how it started between them? What if Dexter was actually seeing someone else?
“Who is putting pressure on us?” Jonah asked, knowing full well he sounded needy, which he didn’t want to be. But there in the back of his mind stood Edward, making out with Wes over and over again.
“No one,” Dexter conceded. “But they will. People will look at us differently.”
“But people already think there’s something going on between us. That’s exactly what Colbie wanted.”
Dexter stepped away from him with a heavy sigh. “I know. But there’s a difference, isn’t there? People here don’t think there’s something serious going on, do they?”
“But there isn’t something serious going on, Dexter. We’recasual.” He sounded spiteful, and for once he didn’t regret the tone. Dexter didn’t have an immediate answer to that. Instead, he smiled, which Jonah couldn’t understand, and simply shook his head fondly.
“Look. I don’t care if people believe what Colbie wants them to believe online. But my actual private life? I don’t want everyone knowing.”
Jonah couldn’t argue with him. He knew Dexter deserved the right to protect his privacy, but it still hurt. He half expected Dexter to act differently around him after the conversation, for him to back away completely to preserve the idea they weren’t going home together to give each other totally casual blow jobs before having totally casual sex. But he didn’t. Dexter flourished in the theatre, he bloomed like a social butterfly, wings spreading, colors vibrant. He spoke openly with Jonah, gave him hugs before and after the show in front of the others, stayed close to his side during warm-ups. He remained true to his Dexter persona, and on nights Jonah thought he pulled off an absolutely flawless performance, Dexter would send him catapulting back down to earth afterward, lips twitching as he tried and failed to keep in his critique. Only, unlike before, Jonah now knew how to shut him up. A month of getting to know Dexter’s intimate needs and desires meant it only took a lingering kiss to his neck in the dressing room afterward to get him to stop talking; he’d stand, mouth slack as Jonah licked a line up from his collarbone to just below his ear. All unwanted feedback would be lost as Jonah stepped away, a satisfied smirk on his face.
However, Dexter was also learning the things he could do to make Jonah melt like butter in the palm of his hand. Before heading onto stage for the start of act two, he always whispered something completely filthy into Jonah’s ear, leaving Jonah motionless, his fingers rubbing his palms as he tried to think of something, anything, to stop the stirrings Dexter set off inside of him. He did it so brazenly, in front of the rest of the cast and crew, which only threw his casual and very secretive needs into disarray in Jonah’s mind. Dexter, with his insatiable smirking and devilish lips, would be the death of him.
The sex could only be described as mind-blowing, but it wasn’t the sex that kept Jonah awake at night thinking of Dexter. No. It was the way, when they left the stage door, Dex walked just in front of him, shoulders tense, broad and undeniably protective. Most people followed the new rule and stayed away, but there were a few who still waited, lingering on the other side of the path after security ushered them away, hoping to talk to them, eager for photographs and signatures. Dexter acted as a shield,eyes scanning anyone in the vicinity who looked their way, and Jonah knew he was keeping an eye out for Wes even though Jonah didn’t think Wes would be stupid enough to return and risk getting into even more trouble than he was already in. Bastien always looked over at them when they left, smirking at the way Dexter tried to shield Jonah, and then, when Dexter wasn’t looking, he’d make a gesture resembling someone giving a blow job and Jonah would roll his eyes at him and laugh.
The protective side of Dexter turned Jonah on more than he cared to admit. As he lay alone in his bed at night, he often thought of Dexter’s body covering his, and his hands may or may not find their way into his pants to help him enjoy the image. And the image often became a reality. Dexter between his legs, tongue mapping his skin while his moans sent shivers down Jonah’s spine. The nights they performed they always traveled home together, alternately taking the bus or the tube, Dexter whining each and every time they got on the Northern Line, his lips turned down into the most unattractive frown in the world. They sometimes wordlessly went back to Dexter’s place, his house immaculately tidy and horrendously white and sterile, and made out in his bed until they fell asleep. Other nights, they went to Jonah’s, where Dexter seemed more relaxed than in his own home, and explored each other’s bodies until the early hours before falling into an orgasm-fueled sleep.
The weekends, however, were strange. After Saturday’s two-show days, Dexter seemed to vanish off the face of the earth. On Sundays he didn’t respond to messages and always avoided Jonah suggesting they make plans for their days off. His elusive nature carried on into Monday, and, despite Jonah practically begging him to come back to yoga, because it would be hot now with the couple poses and he could touch Dexter and make him squirm, he never showed up. When Tuesdays rolled around, Dexter sprang back into life, invading Jonah’s space every second with his loud voice and opinions no one asked for.
It brought unwanted thoughts of what Dexter might be doing with his free time. It made Jonah nervous, but he tried to put it aside, needed to put it aside. He needed to be Jonah Penrose, cool as a cucumber, solaid-back he might be asleep, totally not obsessing over Dexter flirting with other people on a Sunday, Monday, or any other day of the week they were apart. He needed to be totally and utterly A-OK with just not knowing where the hell he stood with the man who frustrated him both sexually and professionally. Absolutely fine with it.
Colbie tapped her fingers on Evie’s desk, pink nails shimmering in the dim light of the office. Jonah sat opposite her, hands in his lap, palms sweating profusely, and he wondered if this was it, if she was giving him his marching orders. He’d only been back a month since being forced off work for a week because of Wes and his flying fist, and Evie seemed intent on ignoring him up until this very moment where she stood behind Colbie, peering at him intensely. She called him into her office, not mentioning Colbie would be waiting for him; Colbie, whose hair looked brighter than usual, freshly colored, the skin around her nail beds stained the same vibrant red, and who sat with a face pinched like a raisin as she looked at him.
“I need you to do something for me,” she said eventually, breaking the silence between them with a voice filled with nicotine. “Niamh has set up an interview for you and Dexter for theLondon Theatrical Stagemagazine. They want the total package: interview, photo shoot, the works.”
“Okay, wow, that sounds great.”
“They will probably ask about what happened at stage door,” she said, then clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth. “The whole thing’s kicked off some debate about performer safety and, to be honest with you, Jonah, I don’t want to be part of that narrative. So you will not answer questions about it.”
Jonah bit down on the tip of his tongue to stop himself from saying something he shouldn’t. The debate had raised the important issue of boundaries and how production companies needed to put measures in place to protect their cast and crew. But assaults garnered negative publicity, and extra security cost money, both things Colbie clearly hated.
“And I need you to ramp up the act with Dexter too. You’ve both been,dare I say it, disappointing with the social media stuff. You barely interact online anymore, and the buzz surrounding you two has fizzled out. We need to keep pushing this. We want people interested in you both so they buy tickets and get us all paid.” Jonah’s eyes flicked to Evie, who crossed her arms over her chest and nodded along to Colbie’s words. The loyal lapdog.
“You told my agent you wanted me to not post on social media.”
“That was weeks ago.”
Jonah deserved an award for managing to not roll his eyes. “Okay. I can do that.”
“Good.” She smiled, eyes piercing into him. “Now, get out of here and warm up.” She waved her hand, dismissing him in quite possibly the rudest way he’d ever experienced.
“Oh, Jonah,” Colbie said as he stood. “We think your energy has been lacking the past few performances. Pick it up, yeah? Can’t have a weak link. I don’t want to make your agent aware of your shortcomings.” The spite in her voice couldn’t be denied.
He decided against retaliating, knowing full well any challenge to Colbie resulted in a swing being put on in his place and a black mark against his name. It didn’t matter if she behaved like a rotten cow; in the theatre world, her name was gold and a bad word from Colbie Paris meant saying goodbye to any dreams of being cast in another production. Instead, he gave her the nicest, most shit-eating smile he could muster, vacated her office, and went straight to Dexter’s changing room.
Jonah didn’t knock; Dexter never offered him the courtesy of knocking, so Jonah returned the sentiment and allowed himself full access to Dexter’s room whenever he felt like it. Dexter stood beside his clothing rack wearing only his boxers and bright green socks, and he fumbled with the costume in his hand for a second before dropping it to the floor.
“You made me jump,” he complained, bending down to pick it up as Jonah closed the door behind him.
“Mind if I take a photo of you?” Jonah asked, taking his phone out of his pocket to open the camera, and pointed it toward Dexter. “Colbiewants the world to think we’re fucking each other so people buy theatre tickets.”
“Don’t you dare take a picture of me in my pants, Jonah.”
