Page 24 of Sweet Oblivion

That seemed to be the end of the conversation, though I still wanted to argue. Aya must have seen the gleam in my eye because she narrowed hers and put her hands on her hips.

“I promised, Nash.”

She turned and marched down the hall. I caught up to her and grabbed her hand, leading her back to the right door. She muttered thanks but seemed unwilling to meet my gaze.

Whatever.

I settled into my normal seat, scowling when I noted Aya was across the room. That wouldn’t fly. But I’d fix the seating situation tomorrow. I listened with half an ear while the teacher talked about the STEM interdisciplinary project we’d be working on for the rest of the semester. Instead of finals, half the teachers planned to use the project as a large chunk of our grade.

I noted that Aya perked up, her eyes alight with interest.

Right. She loved math and science. Her goal was acceptance at a top-tier engineering school. I had no doubt she’d achieve it…and leave me behind.

I settled back in my desk, arms crossed, and spaced out.

A new melody drifted through my head, and I opened my notebook, writing down the notes, then the lyrics.

The snippet was angsty—perfect for a country tune or an indie rock ballad, depending on which direction I went with the strings. Banjo would be more bluegrass or country…but cello—yes! The deep, melancholy thrum of a cello overlaid with two different guitars. I scribbled the notes through the bell, ignoring everyone in the room.

I finally stood, stretched, winced, and noted Aya hovering near the door.

She was as drawn to me as I was to her.

“He hit you hard,” she said. “Do you need a doctor?”

I shook my head as I packed my backpack. Since we’d missed one class and entered this one late, it was now lunchtime.

I considered switching tables and refusing to sit with Aya. I wasn’t sure I liked her exerting power over me. Not sure at all. But I wasn’t willing to let her out of my sight, which meant…

“Let’s go eat,” I muttered.

9

Nash

I met Aya’s mother and grandfather that afternoon when she invited me back to her house after school. I rather liked them both, and since then we’d been hanging out at her place after school every day. We’d settled into a nice routine. Yesterday, I’d spent an hour or so with her mother while Aya used power tools in the workshop near the garage. The noise gave me a headache, so I’d begged off. Mrs. Didri-Aldringham made me a cup of chai and offered me a couple of Madeleines—as if I’d pass on cookies.

That’s what Aya’s mom went by—Didri-Aldringham—a hyphenated version of her life. “Bifurcated by divorce,” she’d told me. “I refuse to give up my daughter’s last name to please my ex-husband.” Her dark eyes had sparkled with mischief as she munched her cookie. “He can deal.”

Yeah, I liked Ay’s mom a lot. And Mr. Didri was cool, too. He sat in his lush garden and smoked some weird tobacco. His wild stories were way more fun than sitting at home, waiting for Aya to text or Cam to call. So, I spent more and more of my time at the Didri mansion, enjoying their close-knit family.

It wasn’t like my own parents cared. My mom hopped a plane after embarrassing herself in front of Aya and me, and my dad finally showed up yesterday to offer me the chance to perform the song I’d written over the past few days—a tune he’d found in my room. One I hadn’t planned to share with him. He said if I let him record it, playing with him on tour could be my birthday present.

That meant my gift would be months late and only if I let him use the song on his album. Some deal. I’d considered talking to Cam about that, but I wanted to perform. The itch had grown, but I needed my own material to create an album. Or I needed recognition for the songs I’d already written, which made Dad’s offer perfect, since I still seemed to have a barely functioning muse.

Hugh and Naomi were excited when I told them and Aya the next day at lunch. They’d joined Aya and me every day for over two weeks now. Honestly, I was kind of over spending time with them.

“I promised,” Aya said when I brought up the lunch arrangement on our walk home from school. “We’ve been doing it for weeks now. What’s the big deal?”

Part of the reason I’d waited this long was because I liked Hugh. His wicked sense of humor made me smile, and I hadn’t done much of that since Lev died. And even though we’d had that falling out freshman year, he’d invited me to his parties and stood next to me when Lord had been a dick. Hugh had been a friend to me even when I’d refused to reciprocate. So, yeah, I liked this new arrangement better.

But I didn’t like sharing Aya’s attention. Besides school, she spent a few hours each day on her STEM project, which did allow me to jot down more bits of music. But still…we were busy. And I didn’t want to share her, especially not with my father’s tour coming so soon.

I narrowed my eyes at Aya. “You promised,” I said, my tone dry.

“Yes, Nash. And when you promise, you have to follow through.”

I should have known. Aya treated promises like sacred objects. Clearly, she wasn’t from the same culture as me. If she were, she’d understand promises were empty, made to be crumpled, trampled, kicked out of the way the moment they became inconvenient. Not unlike me.

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