Page 30 of Grave Misgivings
“Pretty sure forty is middle-aged, Zeb, but thanks.”
His voice lifts a fraction, and I can hear the humor in it. “You’re not forty yet, G. Still got a month.”
I blink as I let his words settle on me.
“A month until I’m the literal forty-year-old virgin,” I gripe. “Yeah, can’t wait.”
There’s a moment of silence before his soft, smooth voice comes across the line.
“Could be worse,” he says.
I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh yeah, how could it be worse?”
“Well, you could be a perverted, creepy old man with a shriveled up dick.”
“I’m definitely not a perverted, creepy old man,” I huff. “And my dick is certainly notshriveled,thank you very much.”
Zeb laughs, and the sound is like melted better. Deep, warm, and dare I say... sexy?
“No, you are definitely not pervy, creepy, or old.” His voice is light, but there is an edge to it. He coughs slightly, his voice rich with humor.
“What about you?” I ask as I settle down lower, laying my head on the pillow.
“What about me?” he asks.
“How was... your day?” I ask, getting comfortable.
I absentmindedly adjust my cock again. I swear this thing has a mind of its own. Now isnotthe time, buddy!
There’s a pause before he answers. “It was okay, for the most part. I guess.”
“No existential crisis because your thirtieth is around the corner?”
“No,” he says softly. “Just another day in boring old Posdosh.”
I don’t miss the sadness or the guilt in his voice.
“Besides, thirty isn’t the death of my youth or anything.”
I can’t resist the urge to tease him just a bit.
“So you’re not some middle-aged, pervy, creepy old man with a shriveled dick, either?” I snap, my lips turning up into a smile.
“Fuck, no,” he says with a resounding rebuttal. “Thirty is the new twenty, haven’t you heard?” he taunts.
I scoff at his remark, but I can’t help smiling. I can’t remember the last time I felt this good justtalkingto someone.
It’s not just someone, it’s Zeb.
“Can’t say that I have,” I say, and we both catch our breaths. There is a pregnant pause, a tense silence.
“Can I ask you something?” I say, swallowing harshly. Panic floods me, but I know I need to say this, because I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I don’t want to let him slip through my fingers again.
I was always raised to believe God lets things happen for a reason, and I think maybe that reason is he’s giving me a chance to make amends.
“Sure,” Zeb says, his voice a bit more relaxed.
I glance at the clock, noting it’s nearing ten thirty.
