Page 11 of Seven Lost Summers (Broken Oasis #3)

Nate

H

er

name’s

still

a

mystery, but she’s already under my skin.

She played that guitar with a focus I’ve never seen. Not only skill, but control.

Every note carried weight. She didn’t care who was watching, yet somehow, she commanded that entire fucking room. Including me.

Now I’m stuck on her. She’s in my head, turning the volume up on things I rarely let in. I keep replaying the way her fingers moved, the way the sound slammed straight into my chest. This pull isn’t the usual kind. It’s something I don’t have any words for.

Maybe that’s what unsettles me the most.

I need to find out who the hell she is.

Quinn Thomas is the only one who might give me the right answers, but getting anything out of her is a fucking challenge.

She’s propped against the lockers, phone in hand, scrolling like the world is on mute. There’s chaos everywhere and she’s tuned it all out without blinking.

She knows exactly what kind of attention she attracts.

How many guys would crawl through glass just to get a glance. But Quinn doesn’t give a shit. She doesn’t chase approval. She doesn’t need anyone to like her, especially not me. That’s what makes her dangerous. She plays her own game…always has.

I step up to her and Quinn doesn’t even pretend to care.

She lifts her eyes only enough to skim over me, that flat, bored stare already cutting.

The one that says I’m old news and barely worth her time.

Normally, she’d shut things down fast by walking off or telling me to fuck off.

She never plays along. Never bites. But this time I don’t lead with a cocky smirk or some half-sleazy line.

“The new girl. Who is she?”

Quinn arches a brow, dragging it out like she’s already decided this is her entertainment for the day.

“Why?”

I clench my jaw. Swallow the urge. Keep cool. What I want is answers.

She holds my stare a beat too long, those sharp green eyes digging in like she’s peeling me open, deciding whether I’m worth the answer or should be made to fucking grovel for the truth. After that comes the smirk that always shows up when she’s got the upper hand.

“Bianca.” She drops the name casually.

I nod once. “Okay.”

After that, I turn away.

“What, no sleazy pickup line today? No charming little ego boost for yourself?” Quinn calls after me, her voice dripping with mockery.

I keep walking, smirking. “Not in the mood to be rejected.”

She laughs. “You disappoint me, Reynolds.”

As I walk away, I remind myself to keep my guard up. The problem isn’t that Bianca is already in my head, stirring things I rarely let through. I need to be considerate of Theo.

For the first time, Theo actually gives a shit about a girl.

That never happens. He doesn’t do that, or reach out to anyone. Doesn’t do crushes or chase. He’s the opposite of me. He holds himself back from everything, afraid that if he lets anyone in, they’ll see the fucked-up mess he’s spent years trying to hide.

The only time I’ve seen him let someone touch him was the night I talked Lydia into dropping to her knees. I thought he’d want that.

But the second she pulled his cock out I noticed the shift. His whole body locked up. Not in a good way. Not the tension that comes from being turned on. This was something fucking else.

His jaw clenched. Eyes shut tight. His breathing turned ragged.

When her lips wrapped around him, the whole thing didn’t look like pleasure. More like he was fighting to survive the moment… his mind had already slipped somewhere dark.

And fuck, I knew exactly where he went.

I told her to stop because whatever the hell was going on in his head, the moment wasn’t about pleasure. It was pain.

And I should’ve fucking known better.

That’s why this Bianca chick’s fucking different. There’s something about her that’s got him chasing someone for once, instead of standing in the shadows while the world moves on.

I’ve always thought Quinn was beautiful. Anyone with eyes would. But she’s never given me the time of day and I got used to that. Brushed it off. Moved on.

But this new girl… Bianca?

She’s something else entirely. It’s not only that I want to fuck her. It’s deeper than that, messier. What gets me is the way she exists. She doesn’t give a shit if anyone notices her, but you can’t tear your eyes away.

She’s the kind of beautiful that fucks with your head. Makes every other girl blur out, every name vanish, every cheap fuck seem even more meaningless than before.

I stood frozen like a fucking idiot, staring at her. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All I caught was her and the way she held that guitar, the way her fingers moved as though they carried every intention of the damage they were about to do.

She started to play and the sound wasn’t only music. It was a fucking takeover.

I followed her into that room only because of Theo. I caught the expression in his eyes when he spotted her—the kind that strips a guy down to his bones. She had him. Completely.

So yeah, I went after her.

Told myself it was nothing more than curiosity. Only an attempt to figure out what the fuck had him hooked.

I head toward the back of the school where Theo always sits behind the gardener’s shed smoking and hiding from the world.

Before I can reach the spot, three girls cut me off.

Two of them I’ve fucked before. Easy lays with nothing but lip gloss and fake moans.

Serena’s front and center, always the boldest. Her shirt’s unbuttoned enough to give a peek at what she thinks will get her what she wants.

“Hey, Nate,” she purrs, voice dripping in that breathy way she uses when she’s trying to score another round.

She licks her lips, eyes dropping to my belt, and I can already tell exactly what she’s offering. I should be all over the offer—used to be. Hell, I’ve had my dick in her mouth behind the gym more times than I can count.

I open my mouth ready to toss out one of my usual lines, something filthy and easy, but the words die in my throat.

Serena steps in closer, resting her hand on my chest. “What, you forget how to speak?”

I peel her hand off me slowly. “Nah. Saving my breath for someone who doesn’t moan on autopilot.”

She reels back a little, blinking. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

I lean in, voice low. “Dead fucking serious. Go practice your gag reflex on someone who still gives a shit.”

The two girls behind her shift uncomfortably. Serena’s mouth opens like she wants to argue, but I’m already done. I brush past her, not bothering to glance back.

That’s when I catch sight of them.

Across the quad, Quinn and Bianca head toward one of the bench seats. Quinn’s got her usual don’t-fuck-with-me stride, sunglasses shoved on her head. Bianca moves as if she’s got nothing to prove, only that calm confidence.

She doesn’t realize the effect she has, the way she shifts the air when she walks.

Yeah, I’m already fucked. Already pulled in.

Theo’s voice from last night won’t shut the hell up in my head.

It was late. The two of us in our room, the lights were off except for the glow from the hallway light spilling in.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed bouncing that damn rubber ball off the wall again and again. That sound cutting through the silence. His fallback habit when shit gets too real. When talking means opening wounds.

Scarlett had finally left us alone for the night and I couldn’t stop myself. I brought her up, the girl with the guitar.

The second the words left my mouth I caught the change.

The shift. Theo’s whole body stiffened. His fingers clamped around the ball, held on too long before launching the thing at the wall again. No smart-ass comments. No eye roll. Only silence. Heavy as hell.

I know him. I understand that silence speaks louder than anything he ever says. The way his jaw locked, the way his eyes flicked to mine for half a second. He was already bracing himself, already on edge. And that told me everything. Not to fucking cross that line with her.

I pull out my phone and fire off a quick text to Theo.

Nate: I’m on the rise near the statue in the quad. Meet me here.

I shove my phone back into my pocket because Theo won’t reply. He never fucking does.

Mom and Dad keep telling him to use the damn phone they bought him, but saying that is like yelling into a void.

He won’t. Flat-out refuses. One night, when I called him out, he muttered something about not wanting to be a burden.

Said he didn’t want to rack up their bill.

As if they’d ever give a shit about that.

Truth is, he still thinks he’s temporary.

Still waiting for someone to decide he’s too much to deal with and send him packing.

They’d never kick him out. Not in a million years.

I only wish he could fucking realize that. Wish he believed how much they love him. But he’s scarred deep, and no matter what we say, it’s like the damage is permanent. Always waiting for the rug to get yanked out, bracing for goodbye.

I take a few steps closer, hands buried deep in my pockets, keeping enough space.

Bianca and Quinn are locked in their own little bubble, talking low and fast like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. I hang back, eyes shifting between them and the path I’m certain Theo’s about to walk.

Bianca laughs.

My head snaps back, catching her with her head tipped, lips parting, eyes lit up with something wild and unfiltered. For a second, I can’t look away.

I don’t understand or fucking want to. But the pull still crawls through me. That slow-burn chaos of wanting something I’m certain I shouldn’t touch.