Page 55 of Grave Misgivings
When I get to the driver’s side, I notice he’s staring at me.
“What?” I ask as I climb into my seat and turn the key, the vehicle roaring to life and then settling into a deep rumble.
Geo pulls some shades out from his front pocket of his burgundy shirt.
“You just... you look good, Z,” he says casually. “Different, but good.”
I watch as he puts them on, the way the sun glints off of the silver arms.
I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing.
I drive us back through the gate, handing my pass to the attendant, who once again raises his eyebrow but says nothing.
I let out a breath that the group of fans seems to have dispersed, and it doesn’t take us long to get back on the road.
“Hope your drive wasn’t too bad,” he says, leaning back in my passenger seat. His spicy citrus-woodsy scent fills my car and I have to fight the desire to sigh.
“Not at all,” I reply, shooting him a genuine smile.
The beginning chords of Boys Like Girl’sGreat Escapefill the space as I lean my arm out the window. Geo does the same.
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, you can change if it you want,” I say, noticing how he is glancing at the radio.
“Driver picks the music, remember?” he says with a smirk. “Besides, I haven’t heard these guys in forever.” He’s tapping his fingers against the edge of the windowsill, keeping time with the beats of the song.
And then hesings,and I feel like I really am nineteen again.
He belts out those high notes, crooning on about making a great escape, and I don’t even think about singing along with him, like we used to.
Geo starts to bounce a bit, the rhythm alive in his voice and in the space between us.
His energy is contagious.
And before I know it, we’re both singing at the top of our fucking lungs to every song that comes on the whole way home.
When we finally get back to my place, my face hurts from smiling so damn much.
Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
I grab his luggage from the car.
He stands on my sidewalk, his pale arms contrasting the black tank he’s wearing.
I come up next to him, noticing the way he looks at my house, and I feel a sense of pride.
“I know it’s no Morningstar, but there’s WiFi,” I tease.
Geo glances at me. “It’s perfect, Z. It’s you.”
“Okay, so I’ll give you the quick tour, and then we can grab lunch? Or if you just want to hang out, rest, we can?—”
“Lunch is good.” Geo nods, slowly sauntering over to my kitchen island.
I freeze, watching the way the light from the kitchen shines through the windows, hitting the suncatchers that bathe him in rainbows and sparkles.
It’s hard to believe the man in front of me is the same person I fell in love with ten years ago.
But that spark that refuses to listen beckons to my foolish heart.
