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“It means, he’s always asking about you, and you—”
“I’ve never mentioned him.”
“No, but you get this look on your face when I do.”
“I do not.”
Jake’s protest made Alex laugh even harder. “Dude. You do. You’re like one of Pavlov’s dogs. It’s fucking pathetic.” Alex nudged his shoulder. “You think I invited you out just because I wanted to see your ugly face?” He sighed at the deer-in-the-headlights expression Jake knew he was wearing. “Look. The two of you…” He shook his head. “It’s weird. Okay? I’ve known you for almost a year and never seen you give more than a passing thought to any of the guys you fuck. And Micah? I’ve known Mikey almost my entire life, and despite how much he loves performing, he never calls attention to himself. His family is ridiculous. They’ll never disown him because that would make people ask questions, and then they’d have to admit they have a gay son. He’s always trying to be perfect for them, but they either ignore him or act like what he accomplishes is no big deal.” Alex waved his hand at the theater space. “Getting into Julliard is a piece of cake compared to getting a part in one of these shows, let alone the lead. But his sister graduated summa cum laude from Brown and starts Yale law school in the fall. That they care about. That they threw a fucking party for. Hell, they haven’t even seen him in this show because they always spend their summers at their place in Bar Harbor, and they weren’t going to change their plans. They pull shit like that all the fucking time. So, I thought if I could bring you out in time to see him…” Alex shrugged. “His birthday was last month. I’d have put a fucking bow on you if I thought he wouldn’t kill me.”
“So, I’m his present?”
Alex smirked. “Got a problem with that?”
“Not in the least.”
The house lights flashed, and people began returning to their seats for the second half of the show.
Alex settled next to him, then leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Look. I don’t get what it is between you two. If you’re interested in him, great, but if you hurt him, I’ll fucking murder you in your sleep.”
* * * * *
The cast party took place at Micah’s house since, as Alex had said, he had the house to himself for the summer, but it was nothing like what Jake and his fellow drama nerds called a cast party. For one thing, Micah’s house was huge. It was right on the water, with an inground swimming pool and its own boat dock. For another, the event was catered and even had valets to park cars. Alex handed his keys over to one of them as they walked toward the house, then turned and walked backward for a couple of steps, spreading his arms out. “This is how Micah’s family shows their support,” he said. “Maximum public appearance, minimum emotional involvement in his life. Come on, I’ll show you around.”
An hour later, Alex’s tour landed them near the pool. They’d both snagged beers, and Alex was chatting up the blonde who’d played Sonia when Jake felt Micah nearby.
He turned to see Micah framed by the doors leading from the house onto the terrace, staring at Jake with an expression of longing and caution. Jake met his gaze without flinching, then inclined his head slightly, hoping Micah would take that for the invitation it was.
Micah stood completely still for a moment, then descended the three steps and made his way over to Jake. Had Jake seen him do anything but stand in the middle of his dorm room back in April, he’d have known immediately that Micah was a dancer. He was sure in his surroundings, aware of the space he occupied and how he moved through it, his body entirely at his command, every movement graceful and controlled.
Jake had seen it with some of the elite swimmers on the Stanford team, that innate understanding of what they could and couldn’t ask of themselves physically and mentally. He was just a guy who swam, but they could make muscle and bone bend to their will. In that moment, watching Micah walk toward him, Jake knew how powerful Micah was, the extent of his mastery over mind and body. The thought of what someone like that would be like in bed thrilled him, and that it was Micah? And that Micah was interested in him? Even better.
“Hi,” Micah said. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Jake nodded, tried to say something, then cleared his throat and tried again. “You were amazing,” he said, then wanted to curl up in embarrassment at the banality of his comment.
Micah smiled. He was about to respond, but there was a commotion on the terrace and someone called for him. Micah turned, raised his hand at the speaker, then looked back at Jake. “I’ve got to go. Promise you’ll stick around?”
It was the easiest promise Jake had ever made.
Micah
He nearly groaned in frustration when he realized Emmet was calling for him. Emmet was the director, and he wanted to thank the backers who were at the party as well as the cast and crew. He’d told Micah he would be doing this, so it wasn’t a surprise, just inconvenient timing after he’d finally made the rounds of the guests and tracked Jake down. For a moment he considered ignoring Emmet and grabbing Jake’s hand instead so the two of them could run off, but after extracting a promise from Jake to stick around, he headed back up toward the house.
I’m being ridiculous.
He took his place at Emmet’s side and listened to the man make his victory speech. Thank you, yadda, yadda, yadda. Extremely grateful to…yadda, yadda, yadda. Nod in their direction. Clap at them. To our great cast and crew, yadda, yadda, yadda. More applause, a few bows.
“And, of course, to our star, Micah Reynolds. Keep your eyes out for this one, folks. I’m sure this isn’t the last time you’re going to hear his name. I am thrilled I will forever be known as his first.”
There was a smattering of laughter, and Micah wanted to cringe, especially when Emmet leaned over and kissed his cheek. The man had only ever been professional with him, but it was well known that Emmet liked to have younger boyfriends. Micah hated the implication that a relationship existed between them beyond the theater—and even more so with Jake watching.
He looked around the terrace, finding Jake toward the back of the crowd, and felt relief when their gazes connected. The electric jolt that ran through his body was the same sensation that had nearly made him miss his cue at the beginning of the show, but instead of tamping it down, now he let it warm him, fill him. Jake was waiting for him, smiling at him, and that was the only thing he cared about.
The connection between them was like a living thing, and Micah remembered how Jake’s gaze in the dorm room had made him feel seen for the first time in his life. Coming on the heels of having been the focus of people’s attention for several hours, it was odd to realize he felt that way, but the audience had only seen the persona, the character onstage. Jake’s gaze was different. To be the object of that gaze stripped him down to his core and made him visible, not as a spectacle for the world, but in a personal way that saw everything and cherished each part. Within that gaze, Micah became visible to himself, and, for the first time in his life, he liked what he saw.
He was so caught up in this feeling, so focused on Jake, he completely missed the end of Emmet’s speech and was startled when a large arrangement of white flowers was thrust into his arms. He didn’t have to look at the card to know they were from his parents, but Emmet took the card and read it to the crowd. The words buzzed in Micah’s ears: “proud of you…wish we could be there…destined for great things…all our love.” They were words Micah only heard from them when other people were watching. He fought against the nausea in his stomach, the tightness in his chest, pushing down a thousand things he wanted to say but knew he never would.
Emmet raised his hands again, there was another round of applause, and then Micah was free to escape. He carried the flowers inside the house and handed them to the housekeeper so she could find an appropriate place to display them. Before Gail took them away, he pulled out a couple of blooms—a big, white chrysanthemum and two white roses—then wandered outside.
