Read Online Fused (Lost in Oblivion #4.5) by Cari Quinn, Taryn Elliott - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cari Quinn, Taryn Elliott
Tags: Coming of Age, Anthologies
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other than Oblivion was…nothing.
There was always writing songs. More than once, he’d tried to think about going through his stockpile of songs—some put together back in high school—and culling the herd a bit. He could put out some feelers, see if there was any interest. But that was just setting himself up for another kind of rejection. If he got shot down there, who was to say he wouldn’t lose even that avenue of expression? If he developed writer’s block when it came to lyrics, he’d go fucking mad.
He’d go work in some cubicle farm first.
An hour later, he’d grown tired of circling and checking his phone to see if Simon had finally deigned to reply to him. Nope. So that meant he had a bag of fresh bagels and no one to give them to.
Only one other person came to mind.
He drove there without debating what the hell he was doing. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to put himself through this again—not so soon anyway. And Margo’s idea of a big gesture to get the girl probably didn’t include bringing her a bag of repurposed carbs.
After parking in the garage of her building, he tapped in the code to access her elevator. Technically, she hadn’t given it to him. Then again, Simon really hadn’t given him his access code either. But c’mon, they had to know if he got a glance at the numbers he practically had to work at not remembering the codes.
Besides, no one freaking let him in otherwise.
At her door, he tugged out his phone and debated calling. Simon was one thing. Letting himself into Lila’s place felt intrusive and wrong.
Then the door swung inward and he forgot all about right, and wrong, and the bag of warm bagels he could use as a deadly weapon if really pressed.
And he just might be yet.
A guy with spiky dark hair was standing in Lila’s doorway, wearing just a towel. He looked a little too young for her, but not much. Water droplets puddled around his feet while he stood there and glared. He reached up to grip both sides of the doorframe, as if he intended to physically bar Nick from entry.
They’d just see how that went.
“Who the fuck are you?” Nick said, getting in the guy’s face.
“I could ask you the same question, except I recognize you. Oblivion, right? The band everyone keeps saying used to be good.”
Nick didn’t touch him, didn’t do anything but smile. “Used to be good is still a step up from—oh wait, I don’t know who you are. Do you bus tables in the restaurant downstairs or maybe clean off the gym equipment in the fitness center?”
The other guy didn’t speak. Just cocked his head and called out, “L, your friend is here.”
Nick said nothing, and he remained silent even when he heard Lila’s harried voice as she walked up the hall in the apartment. “What friend, Michael? This isn’t a good time. I’m not presentable.”
That was all it took to send him over his admittedly thin edge. Just her voice, and picturing her naked. Worse, picturing her naked with this smirking douche—
He shoved Michael out of the way—which wasn’t as easy as it should have been, because the guy was deceptively strong—and stormed into the apartment. In his haste, he nearly mowed down Lila. When he took in that she was only wearing a short terrycloth robe and her hair was wet, he didn’t see red.
He became a fucking beam of it.
“Nick.” She spoke as he turned back toward the doorway, fists already bunching. “He’s my stepson.”
“You’re banging your stepson?” Incredulous, Nick swung his gaze between them. “Jesus, what kind of Jerry Springer shit is this?”
From the horror on her face, he realized he’d maybe—just maybe—overspoke. Yet again. Forget overstepping. His biggest instrument of destruction was his flapping gums.
Her stepson coughed into his fist. “That’s my cue to jet. I’m going downstairs to grab a paper and a soda.”
“You’re not dressed. You can’t walk through a building like this dressed half-naked
There was always writing songs. More than once, he’d tried to think about going through his stockpile of songs—some put together back in high school—and culling the herd a bit. He could put out some feelers, see if there was any interest. But that was just setting himself up for another kind of rejection. If he got shot down there, who was to say he wouldn’t lose even that avenue of expression? If he developed writer’s block when it came to lyrics, he’d go fucking mad.
He’d go work in some cubicle farm first.
An hour later, he’d grown tired of circling and checking his phone to see if Simon had finally deigned to reply to him. Nope. So that meant he had a bag of fresh bagels and no one to give them to.
Only one other person came to mind.
He drove there without debating what the hell he was doing. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to put himself through this again—not so soon anyway. And Margo’s idea of a big gesture to get the girl probably didn’t include bringing her a bag of repurposed carbs.
After parking in the garage of her building, he tapped in the code to access her elevator. Technically, she hadn’t given it to him. Then again, Simon really hadn’t given him his access code either. But c’mon, they had to know if he got a glance at the numbers he practically had to work at not remembering the codes.
Besides, no one freaking let him in otherwise.
At her door, he tugged out his phone and debated calling. Simon was one thing. Letting himself into Lila’s place felt intrusive and wrong.
Then the door swung inward and he forgot all about right, and wrong, and the bag of warm bagels he could use as a deadly weapon if really pressed.
And he just might be yet.
A guy with spiky dark hair was standing in Lila’s doorway, wearing just a towel. He looked a little too young for her, but not much. Water droplets puddled around his feet while he stood there and glared. He reached up to grip both sides of the doorframe, as if he intended to physically bar Nick from entry.
They’d just see how that went.
“Who the fuck are you?” Nick said, getting in the guy’s face.
“I could ask you the same question, except I recognize you. Oblivion, right? The band everyone keeps saying used to be good.”
Nick didn’t touch him, didn’t do anything but smile. “Used to be good is still a step up from—oh wait, I don’t know who you are. Do you bus tables in the restaurant downstairs or maybe clean off the gym equipment in the fitness center?”
The other guy didn’t speak. Just cocked his head and called out, “L, your friend is here.”
Nick said nothing, and he remained silent even when he heard Lila’s harried voice as she walked up the hall in the apartment. “What friend, Michael? This isn’t a good time. I’m not presentable.”
That was all it took to send him over his admittedly thin edge. Just her voice, and picturing her naked. Worse, picturing her naked with this smirking douche—
He shoved Michael out of the way—which wasn’t as easy as it should have been, because the guy was deceptively strong—and stormed into the apartment. In his haste, he nearly mowed down Lila. When he took in that she was only wearing a short terrycloth robe and her hair was wet, he didn’t see red.
He became a fucking beam of it.
“Nick.” She spoke as he turned back toward the doorway, fists already bunching. “He’s my stepson.”
“You’re banging your stepson?” Incredulous, Nick swung his gaze between them. “Jesus, what kind of Jerry Springer shit is this?”
From the horror on her face, he realized he’d maybe—just maybe—overspoke. Yet again. Forget overstepping. His biggest instrument of destruction was his flapping gums.
Her stepson coughed into his fist. “That’s my cue to jet. I’m going downstairs to grab a paper and a soda.”
“You’re not dressed. You can’t walk through a building like this dressed half-naked
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