No Strings Attached | ✔

XXV. Bail

        A week into my luxurious stay at this (ugly ass) prison, I'm suddenly pulled out of my cell by an officer and forced forward.

        Confused and slightly afraid, I go, "Hey, what's this for? Am I being punished?" The lady doesn't answer me, doesn't even glance my way. She just clutches my arm and continued to stare straight ahead. I can feel my neck heat with nervousness and uncertainty.

        If I am being punished, I have no idea why. I literally haven't done anything since my time here. I've just moved with the cycle, avoiding conversation with other inmates and sleeping for most of the time while trying to hold back the urge to kill my cell mate Giovanni.

        After a few staircases and sharp turns, I'm halted at the front of the prison, where you're checked out and changed.

        I'm about to ask more questions like if they're going to check my ass again because I swear I don't shove drugs up there. Anyone who does that is disgusting. Before I can talk though I'm hit in the face with some clothes. I look down at the clump in my arms, realizing it's my suit and tie, still scrapped up and dirtied. I see the hole where the bullet entered and penetrated my shoulder.

        Even more confused now, I look up at the guard that brought me here, and the other one that was now by her side. "Uh, why am I being given these?" I ask.

        Almost immediately, the second lady says, "Someone bailed yuh out. Change and leave, the person's out there waiting fo' you already."

        I'm at loss for words. Who could've bailed me out? I think about it as I dress in my comfortable suit, hugging myself as discreetly as possible before heading out, the officers watching my hind just in case I make a break for it.

        As soon as I see who's outside, however, my brain clicks immediately and I'm relieved but tense at the same time.

        Of course Jonah would be the one to bail me out.

        I chew the inside of my cheek nervously and take slower steps as I approach, hoping yet not hoping he notices me.

        When I'm a few feet away, he finally looks up and sees me. His expression freezes--brows furrowed, lips pursed, eyes squinted. Slowly though, he puts his cellphone in his pocket and stands straighter. I can see his jaw clench from here.

        He seems to be contemplating his life choices right now, and I completely understand why. Like, why would he bail out his dumbass presumably ex-boyfriend? My arrogance makes me want to believe he did it because he couldn't resist me, but I know that probably isn't the case. In all honesty, Jonah probably would've done the same thing for anyone he really cared about.

        "Get in the car." Jonah says finally, walking around to his side of the car without looking at me again. I clear my throat awkwardly and open the passenger door, sliding in and buckling myself up.

        I wave to the officers still standing at the door as Jonah starts the car, facing the front as we take off.

        We arrive at my house in a short while and at this point the air is so thick I think I'm choking. I turn to Jonah stiffly, about to say thanks, but as I open my mouth he lifts a hand up and stops me, blocking my view of his face.

        I cringe internally and unbuckle myself, opening the car door and taking a step outside. I breathe in the air of my block. It used to smell so good, now it just smells foul, poisoned with lies and crime.

        I close the door behind me, but don't do anything. I just stare at Jonah's car, as if expecting him to come after me. I want him to come after me. Desperately.

        He doesn't look back at me, of course not, but I still keep my gaze on him. I'll stand here for hours, just as long as he won't go.

        It surprisingly doesn't take long before I see Jonah's hands fiddle with his seatbelt and pull it off him, and he's even faster with getting out and coming towards me.

        Except . . . what I get is not what I've been expecting.

        Instead of pulling me by my lapels and eating my face like I'd imagine he'd do, Jonah punches me instead.

        I stumble back, holding my cheek and looking at him surpised.

        We stare at each other for a good second before he's coming toward me again, this time hugging me as tightly as he can.

        Despite the throbbing on my cheek that's slowly making it's way to my eye, I wrap my free arm around him and rest my chin on his shoulder, embracing this emotional hunk of gayness and devotion lovingly.

        He pulls away too soon though, conveying forgiveness with his soft eyes and his silence. I smile crookedly at him and am all of a sudden pulled up to my front porch, being told to unlock the door immediately.

        With my mind going to the gutter, I do so with great speed, twisting the door open with eagerness. Then I'm guided to the living room, not even able to take in the look of my home again. Couch sex? I wonder. I can dig it.

        I'm pushed onto the couch, laying down on my back with limbs dangling off the edge. I'm expecting to be crushed by Jonah's body and kissed until I can no longer breathe but, although I am crushed by his weight, Jonah doesn't do anything but lay on top of me, head rested on my chest and my legs straddling him like noodles while he's just a straight line in between them.

        "How's your shoulder?" He mumbles into my dress shirt after he's done getting comfortable.

        "Uh, good. It's getting better." I reply, my hand finding his hair and playing with little tufts of it.

        He nods into my chest, then silence takes over once again.

        After a comfortable moment, Jonah pipes up again and says, quieter this time, "I missed you."

        My hand freeze in his locks, the strands of hair in between my fingers standing up thanks to me. "I . . . missed you too."

        "You did?" Jonah looks up at me with such gentle eyes. This is either coming from pent up affection or from tiredness. If you've seen Jonah tired and/or drunk, you'd be mixing up affection with exhaustion too.

        "Of course, baby." I say, a little hesitant. I don't know if I can go back to calling him names. He hasn't kissed me yet, so these hugs and even this compromising position isn't enough to reassure me yet.

        I see Jonah's arms visibly fall limp as he relaxes against me and I lean back both awkwardly and contentedly. "Rest, Jonah. You look awful."

        "Fuck you." He mutters as he readjusts his head. I continue massaging his scalp soothingly until I hear him snore.