Page 6 of Craving Oblivion

But I spoke first. “Jax, Bridge, would you take Tatum back to the hotel? I need to spend the afternoon with my grandfather.”

“Aw, c’mon, Nash,” Tatum said. “Don’t be sad. We’ll hit a club, show these Frenchies how to part-ay!” She bounced up and down, reminding me of Lindsay Herrington-Smythe that night.

Hugh shuffled back, grimacing. Clearly, he was thinking the same thing.

I raised my eyebrows at Jax and Bridger, who steered Tatum out of the cathedral.

“Is Aya even studying engineering?” I asked.

Hugh shrugged. “She cut me out of her life, too.”

I shook my head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Hugh shoved his hands into his suit pockets. He wore suits often now that he was completing his MBA. He’d spent the first two summers of college working for Asher’s record label, but last summer he’d been in Boston with one of the premier private equity firms, buying and breaking up companies. I’d thought, for a while, that he’d be my manager once he graduated, but he’d refused my overtures about the time I quit listening to Asher’s advice.

I barely tolerated Cam’s continued attempts to connect these days. I didn’t like either of my idols, my mentors, to see how deep I’d sunk into the rock-and-roll lifestyle.

“I was mad for a long time,” Hugh said with a shrug. “But then I saw the video again. Last year—remember when it hit the media sites?”

I grunted, annoyed. That joyride had come alongside a night I couldn’t really remember—I’d been so high that the show nearly didn’t happen. The internet had dug up the video of me at Hugh’s birthday party and headlines compared my drug problem with my mother’s. My mom. The weight of her death settled over me. Dammit. I wanted Aya. I wondered if she still had the ability to make things better for me.

“I’m not an addict,” I told him.

Hugh leveled me with a look. “As I was saying—about Aya. I watched the video. It’s really bad, Nash. The way Lindsay spins it…if I hadn’t been there for the whole thing, I would think you were dumping Aya, too.”

I began walking toward the doors. “No way. And I’m seriously pissed she’d think that. Still pissed.”

Aya had noted my reaction when I first saw her during the service, and she’d dropped her gaze. And then Tatum had acted all possessive. But…I wasn’t in the wrong on this. Aya left me. I shoved open the doors to the church.

“You can ride with me,” Hugh said as I stared at the nearly empty parking lot.

Right. I’d come over with my grandfather. I shook my head. I needed a drink. Or a hit. Something to ease the tension headache I had brewing.

I settled into the back seat next to Hugh and closed my eyes, thankful for a moment with an old friend who didn’t want more from me than my company. From the moment Oblivion’s first album had dropped and flown up the charts, slamming into platinum sales within a couple of weeks and garnering us a best new artist and best album Grammy, I’d been bombarded with attention.

“Here.” Hugh thrust his phone in my hand.

I cracked open one eye. “I’ve seen it.” I moved to end it, but I couldn’t. Because Hugh was right—from this angle, I looked like I was making out with Lindsay’s tits. Her triumphant smile and ugly words embodied the new girlfriend preening before the sad ex.

It ended with the fool videographer cackling as Aya slid past, her shoulders hunched in, tears brimming in her eyes.

Steve was in the front seat next to Hugh’s driver. He turned as I looked up.

“You’ve seen this?” I asked him. It was one of the first times I’d addressed him in months.

He nodded.

My hands twitched as nervous energy filled me. “Did you know she was going to leave?”

“No.”

“Is she going to school at least?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. She’s attending Imperial College in London.”

“Is that a good school?”

He shrugged. “It’s the best one in the area, I believe.”

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