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

touch as it trailed over the letters that went all the way to the small of my back. He’d seen it before, but every time he got the chance, he stroked his finger along the words.

“I am the storm,” he whispered.

It had always been one of my favorite quotes about the devil telling the warrior she wasn’t strong enough to handle the storm. I imagined being a bloodied and beaten down person struggling to stand, finding their footing only to take an aggressive step forward and baring their teeth, growling the quote back.

“Did you design it?” Oren asked.

“Of course.”

I’d been camping in the desert with stretches of red rocks looking more and more like fire as the sun set. It’d been the anniversary of the day the court case closed on my trauma, and I’d stood on the cliff, looking out at the vast world—alone—but strong. I’d felt like a phoenix rising from the ashes, daring the devil to question me again.

I’d sketched it up and found a tattoo shop the next day.

“You’ll have to design my first tattoo,” Oren declared.

“You don’t have any?”

“Have you seen any?” he asked like it was obvious.

Which I guessed it should have been, considering he strolled around the bus in the least amount of clothes. Sometimes even just a hand when he ran from the shower to his bunk.

“It’s baby fresh skin, baby. Just waiting for your artwork.”

“Maybe. My art is expensive,” I taunted.

“I’m wounded,” he pouted, holding a hand to his heart. “Would you like another kiss as payment?”

“I’ll design one if you never lick my face again.”

“Score.”

“You ladies ready to go or what?” Ash asked from the bus door. “Car’s waiting.”

We piled into a black SUV with another one behind us for security. The guys assured they would be discreet and were going off the beaten path, but we got into Nashville this afternoon, and the fans could be crazy. I sat sandwiched between Oren and Parker with Brogan driving and Ash in the passenger seat.

“You look good,” Parker said, leaning over close enough for his words to brush hot against my ear.

I turned enough to take him in from the corner of my eye, giving a sly smirk. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He huffed on his nails and buffed them on his shirt, puffing his chest out.

I couldn’t help but laugh, and butterflies took off in my stomach. The other night caused a shift between us. We’d been on this knife’s edge, balancing precariously between confronting all the issues that lay between us and all the desire threatening to bubble over. That kiss tipped us a little closer to the simmering fire.

It was like we went through a cycle of steps in our relationship. Friendship, desire we did our best to not admit to, desire we only showed in the darkness of night when he crawled into my bed, and then…and then we fell apart. We’d never actually made it past step three—or maybe we had, and that was step four—falling apart.

The realization that we’d moved to step three recently sunk the butterflies to the pit of my stomach. What if we were moments away from falling apart?

He bumped me with his shoulder. “You okay?”

I took a moment to really look at him. He was only twenty-four, but I could see the lines forming. A wrinkle between his brow when he scrunched them in concentration. The fine lines around his mouth and eyes that would only grow deeper with the way he inevitably enjoyed life. Would I be there to see it?

I didn’t know, but I was there now, and if it was all I had, then so be it.

“Yeah,” I said with a smile. “I’m good. Although, I’d be better if I knew where we were going.”

His pinky stretched out from where his hand rested on his thigh beside mine and stroked my leg. The smallest touch and fire spread like ripples in a pond. “Almost there,” he promised.

With a dramatic huff, I rested my hand on my thigh, meeting his pinky halfway, where we linked them for the rest of the drive. Our desire wasn’t forbidden anymore, but it was like we didn’t know how to actually show it.

“All right, Supernova,” Ash called from the front. “Close your eyes.”

“What? No.”

When all he did was smile and nod at my objection, I pursed my lips but complied.

Parker’s fingers linked with mine, and I held on tight. I could get used to closing my eyes and surprises if this was the payoff. The car rocked to a stop, and I squeezed my eyes tighter, fighting off the urge to peek.

“We have arrived,” Brogan announced excitedly.

“Open your eyes,” Ash ordered.

Four smiling faces scooting in close greeted me first, and I had to laugh at their hopeful looks. “You guys look like little boys showing off their rock collection.”

“You mean cock collection,” Oren snickered.

“Ew,” I cringed. “Sooo, can we get out? Or is sitting in the car with you smiling at me the surprise?”

They all hustled, and I followed behind. As soon as they exited, they donned various hats to try and blend in. Parker tipped his black cowboy hat that clashed with his band T-shirt and flannel but still looked good.

Finally looking past them, I took in the glowing sign outside the purple building with green trim.

My smile slipped.

Karaoke All Night, Every Night.

Somehow, I managed to scavenge a slight tip to my lips, if not a little forced. I didn’t sing anymore in front of people. I mostly only sang in the shower or in the car. Very few times, I sang with the guys in the last month while writing. They’d jokingly brought up how I should join them on stage at their next show, but I’d shut it down hard enough that they never pressed again.

The only other time we’d been to a karaoke bar had been for my birthday and marked the beginning of singing for me. It marked the beginning of the road to my worst nightmare.