Page 5 of The Oscar Escape
Between heading up a fundraiser for the university’s music program and obsessing over the piano piece she’d composed for the event, she hadn’t slept or eaten in days.
Cursing under his breath, he’d scooped her off the floor and rushed her to the hospital. Never one to admit defeat, she’d fought him the whole time. Begrudgingly, she’d agreed to get IV fluids. When the doctor and nurse recommended that she stay the night, she’d begged Oscar to assure them he’d look after her. And he had. Stone-faced, over the next couple of days before their birthdays, he’d nursed her back to health. It was obvious he was cross with her. It clearly pained him to see her stressed and exhausted. But something else was present—a pain that went deep, almost as if it had awoken a memory that tormented his soul.
When he’d kissed her a few days later, on his birthday, she’d thought the kiss was his way of moving past the pain and turning the page. In those blissful seconds, she’d believed he wanted her as more than a friend. And she’d wanted that, too.
But she was wrong—so very wrong.
The disappointment in Oscar’s eyes had broken the spell. The fiery spark fizzled, leaving an awkward emptiness in its place. An emptiness that said he saw her as a wounded bird, and he didn’t want any part of her—not like that. Had he spoken those words? No, he didn’t have to. She’d felt it. She absorbed the rejection. Anger and humiliation had rippled through her. She’d thought he, of all people, could understand her drive and determination. Obviously, he couldn’t. He couldn’t accept that she had to push herself—that she didn’t have a choice but to prove herself to the world.
And then came the excuses.
Oscar had run his hands through his thick mess of dark hair. He’d mumbled an apology and blamed his behavior on drinking too much. She’d played the game as well. Swallowing her feelings, she’d waved him off and called the kiss nothing—a silly lapse caused by their demanding course loads.
They’d sworn to never mention what happened or tell a soul about their transgression. They’d assured each other that it wouldn’t ruin their friendship. They’d agreed to go on like it had never happened. She’d done her best to abide by their promise. But her body and traitorous lips hadn’t forgotten.
And what about Oscar?
A part of her knew he hadn’t made peace with it, either.
Soon after that kiss, he’d started smoking and hit the party scene more than he’d hit the books. He’d dropped out of college and enrolled in culinary school, only to cast cooking aside after a few months. Using his photography and videography skills he’d learned from his famous photographer stepmom, he bounced around the globe, filming documentaries and moving from place to place. He’d become the nomad of their group, missing holidays and becoming less of a present best friend and more of a ghost—a shell of the person she’d known most of her life.
And he’d never looked at her the same way since that night.
Come to think of it. He hadn’t had that many chances. She could count on her hand the number of times she’d seen him face-to-face in the last couple of years.
Ping, ping!
Uncle Landy: Aria?
Uncle Landy: Are you still there?
She snapped out of her Oscar Abrams Elliott haze and skimmed the last few texts.
Mitch and Charlotte hadn’t spoken to Oscar in a few weeks.
Join the club.
She hammered out a reply.
Aria: Yes, I’m here. I’ve got a lot going on. About Oscar—it’s been a while since I’ve talked or texted with him. Sorry, I can’t help Mitch and Charlotte.
Strangely, despite not spending much time with the MIA man, she’d felt closer to him over the last couple of weeks than she had in years—and they hadn’t texted or spoken. It didn’t make sense. It had to be the stress of trying to hit double platinum. A woozy sensation hit, and her phone pinged an alert. She clicked the link. A video of Justin dancing with a blonde filled her screen.
Fury pulsed through her veins. Heat burned her cheeks.
This was too much.
She had to get her so-called boyfriend under control, promote her album, and be everywhere on social media, projecting sunshine like she didn’t have a care in the world. There was so damned much to do. She returned to her family group text. She loved her aunt and uncle but didn’t have another second to spare.
Aria: I’ve got to go. I’ve got a meet and greet with major social media influencers. You know the drill. Love you both so much.
Aunt Harper: Eat a bonbon. They always make you feel better. I sent some to the concert venue in Boston as an early birthday gift. Don’t worry. I told them to keep the delivery truck out of view.
Why would her aunt ask them to do that?
Aria: Why do they have to hide the truck?
Aunt Harper: Remember your ninth birthday? The Cupid Bakery delivery truck showed up to deliver your cake and birthday bonbons. You wanted to dive in, but I told you that you had to wait until the guests arrived. Then you disappeared. We found you inside the truck, stuffing your face with chocolate. You probably would have driven off into the sunset if you could have reached the pedals.
