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I knew she needed me, and I wanted to be there for her, but I’d begged her to keep her drama out of my workplace—if for no other reason than we’d need my income if she truly was going to be a single mother—but because Lina had standing permission to grab a friends-and-family ticket, she had fairly easy access to get into the theater and stick around after the show. Now that most of the cast and crew knew who she was, they let her backstage without any trouble.
During Friday night’s show, I’d forced myself to focus on the job, even though I’d had a hard time not worrying about my sister’s relationship. The two had had a big fight, and Garett had stormed off. There was only so much of her moodiness Garret could take. As each show came and went throughout the weekend, my focus weakened and my nerves shattered. By the time Sunday’s evening performance rolled around, I was barely keeping it together.
At this point, I was worried about being released from the cast because of my personal life interfering with work. I was stressed and exhausted.
Lina had taken herself to a long-stay hotel down in Trenton and begged me to move out to California with her to “make a new start.” She was a costume designer and had a lead on a job in LA.
I wasn’t about to quit my job. Not My Alfred was everything I’d ever hoped for in a theater career, and I loved every minute of it. But at the same time, my sister was everything to me too. Our mom had passed away three years ago of lung cancer, and since our father was long gone, we were all we had left.
Right before the show on Sunday night, I’d finally cracked. I’d hidden in a stall in the bathroom and let the tears come. Fear, guilt, anger… all of the old feelings returned from losing Mom and promising her I’d take care of Lina. To make matters worse, I hadn’t been able to get in touch with Garret.
And to top it all off, my feelings for Dawson Priest were getting more and more complicated.
When it came time during Sunday night’s performance for Dawson to kiss me, I wanted to grab onto him and bury my face in his chest, let his strong arms tighten around me and keep me from falling on my face. I was tired, confused, frustrated. And for some reason, Dawson’s familiar embrace seemed like the only comforting place to be.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay there. The sweet kisses he gave me were gone in an instant, and the rest of the show passed by in a flash. Instead of falling into bed back at the apartment I shared with the guys, I made my way out to New Jersey to meet up with Lina.
It took me two days to convince her to go home to New Brunswick and talk to her boyfriend. The problem? He wasn’t there. And he’d taken a good portion of his belongings with him this time. I didn’t blame him, but at the same time, I needed him to come home and handle his own shit.
I promised to go back to the city and check in with some of his friends, but when Wednesday morning rolled around, I had no luck. No one had seen or heard from him, or if they had, they weren’t talking. I left him yet another voicemail and continued to the theater for work.
That night, I was as distracted as ever and sleepwalking through the performance, so when Dawson grabbed me by the throat after Alfred hissed, “Act casual!” I blinked awake. The intensity in Dawson’s gaze was a punch to the gut. His grip on the front of my throat sent blood rocketing south to my dick.
Oh god, I’m going to spring wood onstage.
“Kiss me like you mean it,” he ground out in a low voice against my ear. Then his lips were on mine in a hungry, possessive attack. One of his thick thighs forced my own legs apart until his hip pressed hard against my dick. Without thinking, I pressed back in a desperate hump.
“Nghh.” I moaned, embarrassing myself with sudden need. His hands moved from my throat to my face, pinning me in place while he owned my mouth. The crowd was loud as usual, but I could barely hear it over the sound of the blood pounding in my ears. What was this? What… what the fuck was he doing?
When he ripped his mouth away from mine, I refused to let him. I followed him blindly, reaching out for the front of his vest and yanking him close again. We kissed for another long beat while the audience went quiet. Suddenly, Dawson pulled away, grabbed me by the shoulders, and shoved me down into my chair at the table. “Thought I saw her comin’ back in,” he said to Alfred with an exaggerated shrug and cheeky grin. “Sorry, boss, whaddya gonna do, eh?”
