Page 39 of Sweet Oblivion

Warmth rippled over my skin like a caress. “Nope.”

“Because it’s the best song on the album, Nash. That’s saying something, because I’m a hella good songwriter. But your song is better, and it’s going to blow me into the stratosphere.”

“All right. If you really think the song’s good enough…”

“It definitely is,” Cam said, his tone warm. “Asher thinks so, too. So, we’ll need to get you two together. We’ll talk more about that tomorrow.”

I nodded, and as I ended the call, I felt calmer, almost happy.

Until I remembered my dad’s comments.

“Do you…hear music in your head?” Steve asked after a moment.

I shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“New melodies or other people’s songs?” he asked, his tone a bit urgent.

Weird change of topic. I felt a strange flutter in my belly. It was a tangled mix of dark emotions I couldn’t quite tease apart.

I frowned. “Some of both, I guess.”

“Let’s…ah, let’s get you back to your room,” he said. “We’ll get everything sorted out tomorrow.” He cleared his throat and patted my shoulder in an awkward show of affection.

“You don’t have to feel bad for me,” I muttered as I stood.

“I don’t feel bad. I, uh, I think what you can do is a gift. You’re…you’re one in a million, kid.”

I stared up at the stars for a moment, wishing my father had said those words to me. Then I followed Steve back through the suite and out the door.

13

Aya

When Nash returned to the suite and told me about the change of plans, I felt my entire body unclench, and I breathed a sigh I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in.

“Okay.” I studied him. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean…you want to do this?”

Nash nodded, some of the disappointment clearing from his features. “Oh, yeah. Cam said I could collaborate with him, perform.”

His excitement caused me to smile, even as my stomach tightened again. I hated the idea of going out onstage, and I couldn’t imagine a worse experience than having thousands of eyes trained on me, expecting musical perfection. I suppressed a shudder.

Nash stood from his chair and stretched. “Want to watch something?”

I smiled and scooted over on the bed, my belly flipping as a thin slice of his tanned stomach flashed into view. I patted the space next to me, my mouth too dry to speak.

“Ay?”

“You pick.” I smiled as I handed him the remote from the bedside table, trying to regulate my breathing.

He plopped onto the bed and shoved another pillow behind his back. Just then Steve poked his head through the connecting door, a frown on his face. He opened his mouth and I tensed, ready for him to tell Nash to come back to their room.

But his gaze softened as he watched Nash wiggle into a comfortable position, toeing off his shoes. Steve’s gaze met mine, and I read the concern there, as well as a stern demand to behave. I nodded and settled back against the pillows, keeping space between Nash and me.

“I’ll leave the door open so you can come to bed when you finish your show,” Steve said.

“Sure.” Nash nodded, never taking his eyes from the screen as he flicked through the options. “Oooh, look, Ay, they got the new horror flick.”

I shuddered even as I sighed in acquiescence. It wasn’t that horror films terrified me—they didn’t—but I wasn’t big into gore, and that was Nash’s preference. Still, something about him seemed off tonight, and he needed this. I’d just have to close my eyes against all the blood.

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