Blame it on the Tequila by Fiona Cole (reader novel txt) 📗

Cap’s Apps and Karaoke.

“It’s karaoke night, baby,” Oren crowed, following it up with a horrible screech that might have been a music note. There was a reason he played drums.

“You don’t have to sing.”

“But we hope you do,” Ash added.

She shook her head, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, my god, you guys.”

“Come on, Supernova. We know the guy at the bar, so we’re drinking tonight. I’ll be your DD.”

“We’re taking the subway,” she deadpanned, finally dropping her hands.

“Whatever, I’ll be your designated get-home-safe-guy.” She rolled her eyes but smiled, and I knew she was warming up to the idea. “C’mon. You only turn seventeen once.”

“Seventeen is the best,” Oren said, slinging his arm around Nova’s shoulders. “Let’s never turn eighteen like these losers.”

“Your birthday is next week, asshole.”

“Don’t remind me,” Oren whined dramatically. He turned Nova, placing both hands on her shoulders and leaning to meet her eyes. “Please, Nova. Help me celebrate the last week of my youth.”

“For you, Oren?” She rested her palms on his cheeks and smiled like a loving sister. “Anything.”

He threw his arms up. “Yes! Victory. Let’s go show everyone how it’s done.”

“Are you going to sing?” she asked him.

“Oh, yeah. Like nails on a chalkboard.”

He threw his arm around her shoulder, walking her toward the door. She looked back at me, excitement and mirth bubbling over. “Wait. Can I change my mind? Anything to not hear Oren sing.”

“May God have mercy on our souls,” I said, laughing.

“And our ears,” Ash added.

“The only solution is to drink so much we forget it ever happened,” Brogan suggested.

“To the bar,” Oren cheered.

Unsurprisingly, Nova stuck to beer, not wanting to repeat her night with tequila. She still didn’t drink, preferring to stay home when the guys and I went to the local parties—probably something to do with how the last party ended. Not that we talked about it. We didn’t talk about her walking in on me getting head—or what I said when I chased her out.

We didn’t talk about how I continued to sneak into her room most nights, waking up curled around her in the morning.

We pretended nothing had changed during the day, sticking to our routine of hanging out—her doing art, and me playing music. Although, more and more, she helped me write the songs, like she was made for it—like she’d lived a thousand lives before, and the words were bursting at the seams to break free.

But in the moments of the night, I burned for her.

Like tonight.

I burned for her, watching the way she danced and laughed—her head thrown back, mouth open wide, arms in the air, and long red hair flowing down her back.

She flitted from guy to guy, and I barely held back from breaking Ash’s hands when he gripped her hips and pulled her in close. She mostly twirled with Brogan and jumped around with Oren, but with Ash, she swayed. She let him lead and didn’t pull away when he bent his knees to fit his groin against the lush curve of her ass. She laughed when he playfully bit her shoulder and rolled her eyes and shoved his hands back when they inched too far.

I sat at the table watching them, clenching my fists, both intrigued to take in every move and irritated my best friend was dancing with my stepsister like I wanted to be.

Then something shifted, a slow beat poured from the speakers, and her eyes lifted to mine. Her lips parted, and her chest rose and fell a little faster. I locked her in place, unwilling to break the connection. If Ash was going to grind on her, then I wanted her mind on me.

She slicked her tongue across her lips, and I groaned. I had to readjust when she ran her hands up her body, skating over the sheer black crop top I almost swallowed my tongue seeing her walk out in tonight. Ash curled around her, but she was focused on me—she only saw me.

His hands moved further in on her thighs, and this time she didn’t pull him away. He dragged his nose up the side of her neck, but I didn’t see him, and she sure didn’t feel him.

She felt me.

We never talked about what we felt—what I wanted. We never went beyond the nights.

But this was the closest we came to admitting it. This was the closest we came to feeling it.

It wasn’t Ash behind her, it was me.

It wasn’t Ash’s hands on her thighs, his cock against her ass—it was mine.

And when the fantasy became too much to bear, I decided to say fuck it and stood.

Her eyes widened as she watched me prowl across the dance floor like a lion stalking its prey.

“Fuck off, loser,” I told Ash when I finally reached them.

He lifted his head up from where he stared down her body and met me with smiling eyes, releasing Nova from his hold. When he walked past, he bumped my shoulder and muttered, “Wondered how much you could take before coming over.”

I didn’t dwell on what he meant because Nova’s chest pressed to mine, her hands moved around my back to hold me close. I didn’t wait a second longer. With one hand on her hip, the other slid across the bare skin at her waist until I reached the ridges of her spine, rising under the shirt until I hit the black strap of her bra underneath. With one flex of my arm, I jerked her the non-existent distance to me, pressing her soft breasts to my hard chest.

She gasped, goosebumps prickling under my touch, her bright eyes darkening to a deep emerald. Dipping my knees, I slid my thigh between her legs and swayed side-to-side. She mimicked my moves, losing herself to the music thrumming through us, from me to her and back again. It bound us together. It didn’t care about the complications holding us apart. It ripped them away and moved us as one.

Her hands drifted over