Page 13

CHAPTER 13

Geo

“Fuck yeah, man! We killed it!” Dare hollers, thrusting his glass of champagne up in the air.

Glasses clink, champagne spilling everywhere in the VIP suite.

The last couple weeks have been a damn blur between cities.

When I first signed with Casualty, I loved touring.

Seeing all the new places, meeting new people, eating new food.

Now, though, I wish there was a way to condense the time on the road between gigs.

“Yeah, we did!” Richie says, hi-fiving Dare.

Hailee downs her champagne, then her boyfriend’s, before grabbing him, leading him out to the dance floor.

It’s rare that we all go out together like this.

Felix, Mateo, Heart Killer, and all the bandmates in between.

Felix pushes his glass toward me.

“You look like you need this more than I do.” His voice isn’t judgmental or sarcastic as it usually is.

Dare downs his own champagne, wasting no time as he runs after his brother, bandmates, and Hailee, leaving me with Mateo, Felix, and Duncan.

Corpse and Eddy are off somewhere; God knows where.

Probably knee-deep in pussy with Spike.

Those three are like a pack of rabid wolves.

I take the glass from Felix, downing it pretty quickly.

“Thanks,” I say as Mateo shifts in the booth.

I catch his entertained gaze.

“What?” I ask.

“Falling off the wagon?” He smirks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, clutching my glass.

He smirks, shaking his head.

“I’ve literally known you for ten years, Geo. Seriously.” He narrows his gaze at me.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with your trip to Arizona, tomorrow would it?” he asks.

I watch as Duncan stretches his arms, leaning back against the booth, the edges of his fingers dancing along Felix’s leather jacket.

I was just as surprised as the rest of the world when they both waltzed on Romano holding holds and announced they were dating.

I mean, Felix is.

.

.

well, Felix.

Sure, there were rumors about him and his former bandmate, but I learned pretty fast in this business not everything you read or hear is true.

Still, if you would have told me that the four-time Grammy winner was gay, I would never have believed it had I not seen him making out with Duncan backstage the night of our LA show, and well, pretty much every show since.

“Just, uh, nervous I guess. Haven’t been home in a long time.”

“How long has it been?” Duncan asks.

Felix leans back into his space, looking up at him.

“Ten years,” I mumble.

Duncan raises an eyebrow.

“Ten years sounds like you’re avoiding the place.”

Mateo sips his champagne knowingly.

“Or someone who lives there.”

“It’s... complicated.” I pour myself another drink.

Duncan sighs.

“Yeah, usually is.”

My head starts to feel hazy, and I think the champagne is finally kicking in.

The song that comes over the speakers stops me mid-pour.

Strangers , by Kenya Grace.

I glance at Mateo, who’s casually watching Dare, a soft smile on his face as Dare dances among the crowd, then flash my gaze to Felix, who is casually resting against Duncan’s chest as he focuses on his phone as those breathy “uh huh’s” sound out over the speakers, reminding me of someone else.

His cover is so much better.

The words fall out of my mouth without warning.

“How did you know?” I ask, blinking.

Mateo turns to me.

“Know what?” he asks, and takes a drink of his champagne.

“That you were gay?” I word-vomit the words, immediately regretting it.

Felix laughs.

He fucking laughs.

“Shit, Graves, we gotta get you loaded more often.”

Mateo shoots him a scathing look.

“Shut up, asshole.”

Felix shakes his head as Duncan gives him a shove.

“Forget I said anything—” I can feel my cheeks flushing as I move to get up, but Mateo stops me.

“Sit the fuck down.” He points to Felix.

“You, shut the fuck up.” His voice is commanding, stern, and it’s hard to refute.

I sit my ass back down, but I don’t look at him.

Felix flicks him off.

“Fuck you, Matty .”

Mateo ignores him.

“Why do you ask?” he says, imploring me with his gaze.

It’s not judgmental.

Not in the least bit.

“You having a mid-life gay awakening or something?”

“No!” I bark, but my voice is a little too high for my own liking.

“I’m just... uh... testing a new demographic.”.

Felix laughs.

“How old is your demographic ?” he taunts.

“Twenty-nine.”

Mateo grins.

“That’s older than Felix.”

Felix flicks him off again.

“Fuck you, cradle robber. Least I’m older than your golden retriever.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up,” Duncan grunts, and I hang my head in my hands.

This was a terrible idea.

Fucking champagne.

I must make a mental note to tell Zeb I cannot drink champagne.

Ever.

“I asked my kid how he knew he was gay and you know what he told me?”

I look up at him, my jaw tense.

“What?”

“He asked me how I knew I was straight. And I couldn’t say with absolute certainty that I was.”

I blink as his words settle.

“But you were married, right?”

Duncan nods.

“Yup. A lot of wonderful years.”

He looks at Felix, his smile lighting up the corners of his eyes, and then he says, “Porn.”

Felix frowns.

“What?”

“Was trying to convince myself I wasn’t into you. Failed miserably.”

Felix laughs, and it is deep, genuine.

Happy.

“Brad Drexler,” Mateo says, shaking his head.

“Ninth grade. We used to masturbate together.”

I wrinkle my nose and he laughs.

Felix huffs with annoyance.

“Not that it’s anyone’s business, but…” He flicks his blonde hair over his shoulder, flashing me a stone cold blue gaze.

“Nick Rialoto,” he says seriously.

“He told me to suck him off and I didn’t think twice about it.” He shrugs.

“Pretty sure I was, like, sixteen.”

I think I need another glass of champagne.

“Does the demographic live in Arizona?” Felix pushes the bottle toward me, but Mateo pushes it aside.

“Do you like the demographic?” Mateo asks.

“Yes, and I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

“I’ve been pretty set on one demographic for a long time, you know.”

Duncan lets out a chuckle.

“I know,” Mateo says.

“Maybe you need to do some research.” He grins.

“Research?” I ask, trying to process his words as Dare barrels into the booth, dropping himself into Mateo’s lap, which pushes me aside a bit.

He laughs freely, grabbing Mateo by the jaw and kisses him.

Two fucking inches from my face.

“Gross, get a fucking room!” Felix growls as he throws a garnish of some sort at Dare’s head.

The flash of pink bops Dare in the head, bouncing back into my lap.

I pick it up.

It’s a fucking maraschino cherry.

I look from the cherry to the couple before me.

Mateo lightly shoves Dare off of his lap, running his thumb over his lip.

He winks at me.

“Research.”

“What are we researching?” Dare asks as Mateo pours him a drink.

“Nothing,” he says.

I let out a nervous laugh.

Felix pulls my attention when he speaks.

“Good luck with your demographic, Geo,” he says as he gets up.

“I’m fucking beat. I’ll see you idiots tomorrow.”

Mateo flicks him off, as Duncan chuckles, heading after Felix.

“Thanks,” I say as I climb to my feet.

“I think I should probably call it a night, too.

Mateo nods. “You know my trailer’s always open right?

” he says, chewing his bottom lip.

“If you have questions about branching out into new demographics .” He flashes me a smile.

“Or if you just need to talk.”

I nod, feeling a fraction better.

“I’ll remember that, thanks.”

I sit on my tour bus, staring at the Google search engine, my fingers steepled in front of my mouth.

The cursor flashes, and I glance ahead at Clarence, my driver.

I can see the top of his head through the sliver of partition that separates the back of the bus from the front driver’s console.

Most of the guys, except for Mateo, Hailee, and Felix, share their tour bus space.

Heart Killer has their own bus, technically, but Dare’s been bunking with Mateo, just like Duncan and Felix have been sharing a bus, and Richie’s been bunking with Hailee.

The rest of Heart Killer and Felix’s band have been sharing a bus, and me.

.

.

well, technically, I don’t have a regular band.

I never have.

Usually, when I tour on my own, we get local musicians to play backup, but the Pillars Of Rock tour has Heart Killer backing me up since I’m on after them, anyway.

So once again, it’s just me.

All by my fucking self.

Which, for what I’m considering to do, is definitely a blessing right now.

I glance at Clarence, then back to my screen.

I feel like a fucking criminal as I slowly type porn into the search bar.

Like at any minute my mother’s going to show up and ground me, or someone’s going to fall through the fucking roof and shout my sins across all of social media.

I know I’m an adult, and it’s not that weird, but old habits die hard.

“You’re not doing anything wrong, ” I mumble to myself.

“Pretty sure you are the one percent who is the weirdo because you don’t look at porn.”

My reflection in the screen warps as I shift in my bed, letting out a deep breath.

I hover over the “get lucky” button.

Duncan said he looked up porn to try and convince himself he wasn’t into Felix.

And it inadvertently ended up confirming that he was, indeed, bisexual.

So I think it sounds like a viable way to determine if I’m indeed having a “mid-life gay awakening” as Mateo called it.

Could I be bisexual?

I’m not sure.

I mean, I don’t really have a ton of experience with women, but I do have some.

I’ve kissed a lot of girls, which was okay.

That has to count for something right?

I’ve finger-fucked two, which wasn’t a terrible experience either time, but it was really wet and warm and squishy.

I didn’t dislike how my girlfriends responded to my touch, but I wasn’t entirely sure they weren’t faking it, either, and I didn’t want to ask.

And even though I felt pressured, I have had my cock sucked once—by Tiffany.

Though, I immediately regretted that experience.

It felt good at first, and I wanted to come, if only because I knew I should , but I couldn’t.

Getting there was.

.

.

well, I never got there.

Because I felt guilty as hell.

I’m pretty sure she took it personally, which made things worse, and I couldn’t fake that I didn’t like her teeth scraping against my skin or that her grip on my balls wasn’t as pleasurable as I thought it was going to be.

To be honest, it kind of hurt and the whole thing just kind of backfired and confirmed maybe it was better that I remained just.

.

.

not.

Until I met the right person, of course, but I’m starting to think I’m just going to be this way forever.

I glance back at the screen as sadness blooms in the pit of my stomach, my reflection warped.

I don’t want to be like this forever, though.

I don’t want to be alone, relegated to fantasies in my head that make me feel guilty.

I want to experience the things I sing about—romance, love, sex.

I don’t want to second guess myself, or feel inadequate.

I want to fall in love, I want to be touched, and feel all those sparks and flames.

I want someone to fall into my lap and kiss me until I can’t fucking breathe, and I want to fucking lose my virginity before I die.

I want answers, God damn it!

I delete the word porn, shaking my head.

“This is a terrible idea,” I mutter.

I type “gay porn” into the search bar, sucking in a deep breath.

“Even worse idea.” I click my tongue.

Cross my arms.

“It’s just... research,” I try to convince myself.

“It’s a test.”

I bite my bottom lip.

I hit search.

The results are.

.

.

interesting.

Everything from Only Fans to Porn Hub, to some Tumblr titled malesmasturbating .

I close my eyes and blindly pick a link.

When I open my eyes, I see video of a tall, slender man and a woman kissing.

So far, so good, I guess.

“Completely normal. Everyone does this.”

I watch as they kiss, their hands exploring, and then she tells him she’ll be back later as his friend arrives to watch the game.

It seems innocent enough, and the actors are attractive, so I get comfortable.

The guys seem comfortable with one another, laughing, hanging out on the couch watching sports together.

Then the friend sets his hand on the boyfriend’s leg.

The camera shows his hand, squeezing, rubbing up and down his subject’s leg.

I watch in interest and horror as the mood shifts, the friend grabs the boyfriend’s cock through his jeans and my own jumps.

I bite my lip, every nerve in my body standing at attention.

But I can’t stop watching.

The boyfriend looks back at his friend with pleading eyes.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” the friend says.

Boyfriend grabs his friend by the neck and I take stock of the way his fingers grip his neck.

“Please, put me out of my misery,” he begs.

I watch as his fingers grip his friend’s hair.

Boyfriend keeps one hand on his friend’s neck while his other hand frees his own cock.

My breath catches in my throat, and I stare as he shoves the friend’s face against his gleaming cock.

“Tell me you don’t want to choke on this dick.”

I slide my hand beneath my pajama pants, noting my hardness, and the relief is instant.

I swallow harshly as I watch the friend swallow down Boyfriend’s cock like it’s a damn popsicle, and that does it.

It’s like a switch has flipped somewhere inside of me.

I shut the laptop as tears threaten to pool in my eyes.

I failed.

I fucking failed the test.

God, help me.

“Fuck,” I curse as I look out the window.

Does this mean I’m fucking gay?

I pull my hand away from my hardness, sucking in a deep breath.

The silence is deafening as I am overcome with loneliness, confusion, and guilt.

So much fucking guilt.

My phone chirps, and I glance at it to see the notification.

It’s Zeb.

I grab my phone, trying to quiet my guilty sobs the best I can.

You up?

I debate answering him because it feels like if I do, I’m crossing some invisible line that he doesn’t even know about.

But I do it anyway, because it feels better than the alternative of crying alone on my tour bus over my first experience with porn and a potential mid-life gay awakening.

Fuck.

Yeah.

Can’t sleep.

Zeb texts back instantly.

Me either.

A soft smile tugs at my mouth, but my eyes are still blurry.

What time are you getting in tomorrow?

I ease back into my bed as I text him back.

Ten-thirty.

My stomach flips, my nerves fraying.

It’s been ten years.

And in ten hours ten years will disappear.