Page 13 of Grave Misgivings
Hailee giggles as I lean against her.
“It’s okay, Geo. You’re allowed to have fun once in a while, you know.”
“What’s your code?” Richie’s voice is slightly raspy, and I know I’m not the only one who had fun tonight.
I tell him, and soon enough the door opens and Hailee helps me through the door.
“Thanks, Hailee,” I say, feeling the peak of my life’s choices this evening.
She rubs my shoulders. “Of course. You know we got your back.” She flashes me with a sweet smile. Her eyes are glassy, too, andI wonder how Mateo and Dare are faring. I never even got to say goodbye.
“See you at the studio,” she says as she backs out the door, and when it closes, the resounding click echoes in my foyer.
I stand there, in front of my grand staircase, inexplicably aware of how quiet it is here.
Moments ago, there was noise. Giggling, beeping, curse words, Hailee’s excitable voice.
And now there’s just nothing.
You think loneliness gets easier, but it doesn’t.
It just gets louder when there is no noise to drown out the truth.
I run my hand over my face, knowing I need to shower and go to bed. Chances are, I’ll probably feel like shit in the morning, and I’ll be less likely to want to do it then.
I climb my steps, the gold and crystal accouterments of my big chandelier refracting off the beige walls like glitter.
The air is cool, and I can’t help but think of the temperature in the club.
All those bodies, all that sweat.
All that heat.
I saunter down the hallway, past my framed awards and photos. Those first couple years on the label, I was doing pretty well. Riding the whole purity ring wave didn’t hurt our sales then. My cover of Real Life’s Send Me An Angelwent platinum. Twice.
It put me on the map. I was no longer known as the nerdy Christian emo kid, Geo Graves.
I wasGravedigger.
I shed my thick glasses, got some contacts, bulked up, dyed my hair, got a big ass tattoo, and flaunted my little silver ring while showing off my abs, and suddenly, I was a hit.
For a little while, anyway.
I head for my bedroom, removing my clothes as I go.
At least on the plus side, being alone means I can technically walk around my house in my birthday suit if I want, pretty much whenever I want.
I traipse across the white marble floor of my bedroom to my en-suite bathroom, taking stock of myself in the oversized vanity mirror.
I stop for a moment, taking it all in. How much I’ve changed.
I’m still paler than Vlad The Impaler, but the giant black cross that spans across my entire chest and torso only draws attention to my expertly sculpted hip bones, that wicked “V” that looks like a neon sign, pointing right to my damn dick.
In my black, tight boxer briefs, the contrast is more noticeable.
As is is the outline of my fucking cock.
I chew my bottom lips, my glassy eyes staring back at me as I turn to the side like Kevin told me to at the photoshoot.
