Rockstar Lost - Taryn Quinn Page 0,3

with her dark chocolate-brown eyes and ribbons of matching hair that never seemed to be under control no matter how many pins and braids Fee twisted them into.

Felicity Hudson, my best friend and soulmate.

I might’ve felt like a pussy saying that, but it was true. It was one of the few things I knew for sure.

“Always.” I cleared my throat. “Never changed.”

“Could have fooled me.” She lifted her tray and brushed by me, the familiar scent of wildflowers trailing in her wake.

I sighed and followed. I’d known going into this it wasn’t going to be easy, but she was worth the effort. “Fee.”

“Don’t ‘Fee’ me. No one calls me that.” Her voice was a furious whisper. The one she used to use in class when I was bored and bugging her.

Or at the library.

Or during our scary movie-thons.

“Since when?”

She ignored me as she went to a table full of young guys who thought khaki was the new black. Newsflash, it was not.

She smiled down at a guy with a banker’s haircut and polo shirt. “Hey, Kevin. Sorry it took me so long.” She set down a beer in front of him and another Ken-doll prototype who was cut from the same mold. “Here you go. Anything else I can get you? Pub fries? Poutine?”

Kevin looked over her shoulder at me. “This guy bothering you, Felicity?”

I raised one brow. “What are you going to do?”

Kevin pushed out his chair. Felicity laid a hand on his shoulder. “He’s an old college friend, not a big deal.”

I nearly winced. College friend? Was that where I was slated now?

The dude slid his gaze from her to me and then back to Felicity. “If you’re sure.”

“Not worth the bruised knuckles.” She leaned down and brushed her cheek against Plastic Man. “Appreciate it though.”

The guy’s expression glazed and his damn gaze went right to her tits. That was it. I was going to kill him.

She spun around and slammed her tray into my belly. I expected her to drop it on my foot, but she took it back. “He was just leaving. I have nothing to say to you.” And she flounced.

For fuck’s sake, when did she start doing that?

I shoved a chair out of my way and navigated my way through the crush of tables. Of course she went faster because of her muscle memory and daily habit or whatever. I swore when she kicked out a chair then disappeared under the bar pass-through.

“Fee. Is that any way to treat your best friend?”

“I don’t know. I don’t see my best friend. I see a guy who used to be my best friend. But then he went off and joined the circus—I mean, band. And never came back.” She slapped her tray down before sauntering through the doors to the back kitchen.

“Dammit.” Evidently, this was going to be way harder than I thought.

Jon gave me a hard stare. “Are we going to have a problem?”

“No, man. Just have to grovel a bit. You’ve been there, right?”

He just grunted, pulled a beer, and set it down on the bar in front of me. “The minute she tells me to toss your ass out of here, you go.”

I took it gratefully. “Deal.” I pointed to a booth. “Mind?”

“Go for it.”

I took a grateful sip of what had to be a house microbrew and settled in to figure out my next move.

I was back. The comfort of the streets I’d known all my life gave me the first bit of breathing room I’d had in months.

Mistakes and my foolish pride were as abundant as the book of half-finished lyrics I couldn’t quite face.

I’d sung her song tonight because I needed a win. Because it was the only song that had come together easily in the last few years. I’d forced the notes to boom and dance through the alleyway to prove I could.

And now they echoed between us like sour notes on a piano out of tune.

Felicity fair.

Felicity mine.

She just didn’t know it yet.

I was here to prove to her that we were more than friends. More than almost lovers.

She was my muse—always had been. It had taken a year away from her to know it was true. She’d always been the other half of me.

Not just the platonic other half. Best friends had been a good enough label when I’d been too afraid to face the rest. She’d never quite fit in that slot, no matter how much we both tried.

“When did you get into town?”

My system jolted