Blame it on the Tequila by Fiona Cole (the reading strategies book txt) 📕

my chest, up my shoulders, and around my neck, driving her fingers into my hair. The scrape of her nails shot down my spine and straight to my cock. When my length grew harder, I knew she felt it. Her eyes flashed with a fire.

We never talked about what filled the space between us. We never talked about what it was—how it was mostly an excitement and comfort in finding a spirit so similar to our own. It hadn’t been hard to just let it be and enjoy what we could. But something shifted with her eyes on mine, her heat sliding across my leg, my dick pressing against her—something that felt too important to ignore. This wasn’t just a friendship growing into something neither of us understood. No, this was desire, and it burned like a raging inferno, decimating any lines we tried to draw.

I dropped my forehead to hers, closing my eyes, unable to keep looking at her and not devour her right there. “Nova,” I pleaded. I didn’t know how to stop, and I just hoped she did.

Her head tipped, and I held my breath, waiting for her lips to press to mine, but as promised, like nails on a chalkboard, everything came to a screeching halt.

We both winced and looked to the stage, watching Oren sing Living on a Prayer with the passion and confidence of someone much better than him.

Another high pitch scraped along my nerves, and Nova’s shaking body snapped me out of the daze I’d been locked in. I looked back to her, watching her cover her mouth and try to hold back her laughter.

The fire ebbed but didn’t fade. Enough to at least let me laugh with her, part in relief, part in sheer horror over Oren’s singing.

“How is he so musically inclined and yet so tone-deaf?” Nova asked around her giggles.

“Not a clue. I guess that’s why he plays drums. He hears it all in beats rather than tunes.”

Ash appeared next to me, punching my shoulder, officially making me let go of Nova so I could punch him back.

“Fuck, he’s bad,” Ash said with wonder.

“But he looks so good doing it,” Brogan said, moving to stand beside Nova.

She laughed again and looked to me, her smile softening, letting one last bit of the flame burn between us. It had vanished so quickly, I almost didn’t think it existed at all. Wanting to remember a moment longer, I gently reached out and grazed my fingers against hers. She twisted her hand and hesitantly linked her fingers in mine.

With a deep breath, I squeezed her hand, needing to feel her.

I watched her from the corner of my eye, taking in her smile she tried to hide by digging her teeth into the plump flesh. When the lights from the stage flashed over her, I saw the red tinging her cheeks.

Yeah, we may not talk about what grew between us, but that didn’t mean we both didn’t know it was there.

And it was just a matter of time before we finally did something about it.

NOVA

We didn’t hold hands for long, but it ingrained itself in my mind, etched itself into each neuron until I knew I’d never forget the feel of Parker Callahan reaching for my hand.

Marked right next to the feel of his hard length pressed against my stomach.

Holy shit-snacks.

My face heated all over again, joining the fluttery warmth growing in my belly. Each time I thought of it, my stomach would dip and turn like speeding over a hill too fast.

I couldn’t help but hope we got another chance to dance tonight, but as the minutes ticked by, the chances grew less likely. More people from school showed up after Oren posted to Facebook. Some of the girls flocked around the guys like they always did. I cringed when I saw Kelly talking to Parker at the bar, hating that I hated watching her flirt with him.

Parker wasn’t mine. He was my stepbrother. A stepbrother I let sneak into my bed most nights. A stepbrother that created a heat burning across my skin. A stepbrother that made me want things I’d never wanted before.

I knew about sex, of course. But beyond some groping and kissing, I hadn’t done anything else. No one had made me want to, but Parker had me imagining stripping myself bare to him and begging him to do everything. Anything to make me feel closer to him—anything to help me crawl inside him and live forever like I wanted to.

“Guys,” Ash called from a table at the edge of the dance floor. “Get the fuck over here.”

I walked over to meet the guys and found ten shot glasses decorating the table with a salt shaker and a bowl of lime wedges.

“Hell yes. This is what I’m talking about,” Oren cheered.

“I don’t know why I bother,” Parker muttered. “I thought I said beers only.”

“Beer is for pussies,” Oren jeered.

“I’m trying to keep her from getting so drunk she forgets her birthday.”

“Meh, Supernova has a liver of a champion. One shot won’t take her down.” He nudged me, smirking and winking, trying to win me over to his side with his dimples.

“I’ll be fine, Dad. Promise,” I joked.

“Not Dad. Stepbrother,” Oren reminded, missing the way Parker and I stopped smiling at that reminder we never wanted or needed.

“Calm down, mother hen,” Ash added. “We’re fucking celebrating.”

“What?” I asked.

Brogan slung his shoulder around Ash, his smile so big, I thought it would stay that way forever. “This asshole just got a phone call from George Marcetti,” he explained, shaking Ash in excitement.

I had no idea who they were talking about, but the guys must have known because their jaws dropped, and it was like they sucked all the oxygen from our small space and replaced it with a knife’s edge of tension.

“He invited us to play at Bordeaux next month,” Ash explained.

“Holy fuck.”

“Fuck yes.”

“Holy shit. This is huge. So big.”

“As in the top indie alternative concert bar?” I asked