Page 66 of Sweet Oblivion

I paused on the tread. Why was she doing this? She ran her hands up and down my chest as I stood there, head pulsing, eyes aching.

“All right, honey. You don’t have to talk to Aya again if you don’t want her.”

I turned and there she was. Aya. Her eyes were filled with tears, just like my father’s. Wait…not my father. Brad. Asshole. I shook my head. My mother was an addict.

“I don’t want you,” I yelled, stumbling away from Lindsay. I wanted Aya.

Somehow, I fell toward Lindsay, my face smashing into her ample chest. Her tits were all wrong—too big and they smelled musky. Not like sunshine and some intriguing spice I loved to lick but never could quite place.

“Why, Nash, this is quite the forward way to show your interest,” Lindsay said with a laugh.

“Nash,” Aya whispered, her voice filled with anguish.

“Go away, you stupid bitch,” I shouted into Lindsay’s chest.

Lindsay giggled, gripping my head tighter. My hands settled on her hips as I swayed.

For the second time tonight, everything went to silence. The music stopped. I managed to push Lindsay away, and I blinked, searching for Aya. A dull red had crept over her face.

“You heard him, Aya,” Lindsay practically sang. “Go away, you stupid bitch.”

No. That wasn’t what I meant. I struggled upward, out of Lindsay’s cushy tits, long enough to catch Aya’s gaze.

She lifted her chin before she spun around and pushed through the throng of teens, excited voices following her out. Snippets of conversation drifted upward.

“He totally dumped her ass.”

“Rejected. So. Hard.”

Lindsay cackled. “You did what I hadn’t been able to.”

I started back down the steps, but I collapsed, my head spinning. I needed to get up. Aya couldn’t leave. She…she seemed upset. Mad at me.

Fucking Lindsay.

Hugh blocked me. I tried to dodge him but ended up falling. He gripped my shirt, held me close to him so our noses were inches apart. Did he want to kiss me?

“Aya…”

“You’re blacking out, man. I called Steve. You need to get help. Stay with me, Nash.” He shook me, hard. My head bounced on my neck.

The colors blended in a sick, streaky array. My stomach heaved. Music burst into my head. So much of it—glorious—pushing away the weirdness, pushing away Aya’s eyes. My grief and anger. I sighed, closing my eyes, relaxing into the music.

“Oh, leave him alone. He’s fine,” Lindsay said, her voice sounding far away. “Finally got rid of the stupid goody-two-shoes, thanks to Nash, so now we can cut loose and really part-ay.” She finished on a shriek.

“Her mother just died and you drugged him to—what? Try to make Aya jealous? To hurt her feelings? Her mother’s dead,” Hugh roared.

I flinched. Hugh’s voice was too loud. He was pulling me out of the music. If I could just sink back… Mrs. Didri-Aldringham is dead? “No,” I mumbled. That couldn’t be right. I needed to comfort Aya. Why hadn’t she told me?

Did I even have my phone? Oh, right… I was avoiding further calls from Pop Syad and my mother.

Hugh shook me, and I slid down the banister, once again seated on my ass.

“Don’t feel good,” I mumbled.

“You are the worst excuse for a person I’ve ever met,” Hugh yelled. “We’re through. Get out of my house and don’t ever talk to me or to Nash again.”

His volume made my head pound, and the music dissipated…whiffs of smoke on the breeze. My head seemed to be trying to split open. I wobbled, the hit finally slamming into my brain and exploding—not with ecstasy, like I’d been told, but with more pain.

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