Page 18 of Grave Misgivings
Right?
I mean, he’s not myexin the typical sense. Ex-best friend, maybe. But not like... an ex ex, like Tiffany.
God, I should just call him, right?
That way I’ll know. If I said something stupid, at least I can apologize, and if I didn’t, well, maybe at least he can fill in the blanks.
Hopefully, I didn’t spill anything he can leak to the press. Not that I think Zeb would ever do something like that, but I did kind of fuck him over, so who knows.
My finger hovers over the number and I consider pressing it.
Ten years.
Thirty-five minutes.
It’s just a fucking phone call, for God’s sake!
I hit the button, immediately panicking. Anxiety swells in my chest as it rings, and I think maybe I should just hang up and...
“Hey.” Zeb’s voice brings everything back.
Fucking everything.
My cheeks flush, my blood heats, and my cock stiffens and I have to resist the urge to curse.
“Hey,” I reply, gripping the phone a little tighter.
“Rough night?” Zeb asks, and I can hear the humor in his voice.
His voice is deeper, smoother. Like hot fudge.
He also sounds less... sleepy.
“Something like that,” I say, noting the time on my alarm clock. It’s eleven thirty. Fuck! I’m usually in the studio by ten! I need to get the fuck moving.
“Fuck!” I curse, immediately realizing my error. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—I just... my head is fucking killing me, and I’m like an hour and a half late for the studio.”
“Mhmm,” he murmurs, the sarcasm evident in his tone. “Did you at least have fun?”
I sigh, hopping into a fresh pair of blue jeans. I let out a nervous laugh. “Um, I don’t remember.”
It’s not a lie.
I don’t remember much, except...
My gaze travels to the bathroom, the mirror staring back at me like a suspicious Bond villain.
I force the thoughts of my fantasies away. No, I will not go down that road. It was a one time thing.
Because of the alcohol. Because clearly, I was fucked up and my brain wasn’t working right.
Right?
“Listen, uh, whatever I said last night, I?—”
“I know,” Zeb says, his tone shifting from humorous and sarcastic to bitter.
“Know what?” I ask, feeling on the spot. I put him on speaker as I reach for a clean shirt and pull it on.
