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Jem looked up at me with a cheeky grin, the kind that was full of the dimples I coveted. My heart tripped. When he moved down my body and pulled the sheet away from my hard cock, I ran my fingers through his hair again. How did I get this lucky?
The blowjob turned into an unexpectedly athletic sixty-nine again, like the one in the dressing room had been, only this time we ended up hanging halfway off the bed, tangled tightly in the unmoored fitted sheet.
After we both came, we hung there gasping until Jem began laughing hard enough to tumble us all the way onto the cold floor. I looked over at his sleepy, sated, laughing face and thought I would be the luckiest fucker ever if he’d just give me a chance with him.
“Have dinner with me after tonight’s show,” I blurted.
His laughter died. “I would but…”
My stomach dropped, and I opened my mouth to spout a throwaway lie like “Oh, no problem. It’s fine” when he finished his sentence.
“We have the cast party, remember?”
The cast party. I’d completely forgotten tonight was the year anniversary of our opening show. The cast and crew had planned to go to the Retro after tonight’s show to celebrate.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. But…”
Jem’s eyes danced, and his dimples popped. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and go home with some guy after.”
I climbed on top of him, ignoring the damp, sticky body parts between us. “It better be me,” I growled before kissing him hard on the lips.
When he came up for air, he looked a little dazed. “You make a solid point,” he breathed.
By the time he left my apartment, we’d shared a shower and another orgasm. My legs felt boneless and my heart easy until I remembered what my appointment was about.
Daniel Diggs’s assistant had called me in to discuss an offer on Pillow Talk.
The news still hadn’t hit me even though I’d gotten the call two days ago. Even if the offer wasn’t for a lead role, it would still be an incredible opportunity. Actors all over the city would kill for the chance to work with Daniel Diggs.
My stomach twisted in knots as I dressed for the meeting and finished my breakfast. When my phone rang with a call from my mom, I answered it on speaker at my kitchen table.
“Hey, Mom.”
“There you are. I tried calling you last night, but you must have been onstage.”
I grinned at her familiar phrase. She loved telling people her son was a “very busy” Broadway actor. Even though she’d originally discouraged my love of theater in hopes I’d grow up to become a doctor or an attorney, she’d quickly embraced it when I’d landed the lead in the high school play and she’d watched me sing “Miracle of Miracles” in Fiddler on the Roof.
“Yeah, sorry about that. How did Grandma’s doctor’s appointment go?”
I could hear the smile in her voice. “Oh, fine. They said she’s healing up normally from the cataract surgery. But you should have heard her brag about you to anyone who would listen. We watched your interview before we left, so she walked into the doctor’s office like a celebrity. ‘Did you catch Wendy Goodley’s show this morning? That was my grandson.’ She even said something to the man in the parking booth about it.”
I swallowed my coffee before speaking. “She loves the play.”
“She does. Even though she doesn’t quite understand how you can kiss your friend like that onstage. ‘It must mean he’s a good actor,’ she always says to me.” My mom’s laugh was comfortingly familiar. “No matter how many times I try to tell her kissing a cute boy isn’t exactly a hardship for you, she still can’t quite wrap her head around it.”
It was true. Grandma was very accepting of my sexuality in general, but she often forgot I was gay unless we were specifically talking about relationships and my dating men. Considering I rarely got to the stage of dating someone enough to mention them to my family, it was understandable she still wasn’t used to seeing me with another man.
“Definitely not a hardship,” I muttered through a grin.
“I wonder if they’ll have you kissing someone in the new show,” she mused. “And what if it’s Andrew Rannells or…” She gasped. “What if it’s someone even more famous like Neil Patrick Harris or Matt Bomer?”
I didn’t mind the idea of kissing someone else onstage. Kissing another actor was part of the job. But the reminder I would no longer be kissing Jem onstage sat like a lead brick in my gut.
“They’re probably casting someone a little younger than those guys, Mom.”
“Aunt Catherine wants to know if you already know the name of the other lead and you’re just not telling us.”
I laughed. “No. I don’t know who it is, I promise, but even if I did, I couldn’t tell you because you’d tell Catherine and she’d tell Grandma, and Grandma would tell everyone she knows.”
