Page 116 of Graves

“With the whole band this time. Maybe we can tie it to the next concert again.”

I look back at my screen and try not to think about it.

Better than thinking about an upcoming interview.

Or the next concert.

Just the thought tightens my throat, but no one here wants to hear that. Even if the guy who left the bruises on my neck gets sued, it won’t make stepping on stage any easier.

My head is pounding, and it’s not just the hangover. I stand up abruptly, grab my leather jacket, and excuse myself.

The bathrooms are one floor up in the stairwell. I step to the sink and splash water on my face. Then I pull out the pills Liam gave me and pop one.

The bottle is almost empty. I’ll need to get more soon. The stabbing pain in my head is worse than usual. A leaden weight presses down on my forehead, making it a struggle to keep my eyes open.

I rub and knead my face, but it doesn’t help. When I squeeze my cheeks, I feel how tight my jaw muscle is.

How did Koh do it again?

Hesitantly, I push my thumb into my mouth and start massaging the muscle.

Fuck, that hurts. But it’s a good kind of pain. A relieving one.

Still, I feel drained and unmotivated. Exhausted and in no condition to rehearse.

So I do the coke Liam gave me too.

The self-medication works wonders, and in no time, I feel like I’ve risen from the dead. My bad mood falls away, the negative thoughts vanish, and I’m no longer a crashing rocket but light as a bird, ready to show the world what I’m capable of.

Even when Fox drives me home late in the afternoon, I’m still in a great mood. The high has faded, but I feel good. I can actually feel how singing loosened the tension in my jaw.

When Fox stops at a red light two blocks from my building, I spot Koh with a pack of dogs. The ground is still wet, but the rain has stopped—that’s probably why he’s out so late.

To my surprise, he’s standing next to a car on the passenger side, talking to the driver. Koh isn’t as relaxed as he probably thinks. It only shows subtly in his body language, but his smile feels forced, his posture restrained, and he awkwardly averts his gaze.

“I’ll get out here,” I say and pull my hoodie up.

“What? Are you sure?”

I know I’ll be on my own and Fox can’t protect me, but I need a break from him too.

“It’s just two blocks. Koh’s right there.”

“He can’t help you either.”

“The question is whether he even would,” I reply curtly and get out.

“Aran!”

But I don’t want to hear any more and close the car door.

More than anything, I want to know who Koh is talking to.

The light turns green and someone honks at Fox to move. I zip up my leather jacket, turn up the collar, and tug the hood lower over my face. Hands deep in my pockets, I jog across the street and scurry toward Koh.

The dogs notice me and start barking. Koh turns his head and blinks at me in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.