by Fiona Cole
I kept my eyes glued to the ascending numbers, too scared to look at him this closely. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Yes, there is,” he growled.
“Well, we’ll have plenty of time to talk in a few days.”
God bless, the doors opened, and I darted in, finally lifting my gaze to his now that escape stood within reach—only to watch him step in right beside me.
“What are you doing?” I almost screeched.
“Forcing you to listen.”
God, he was tall. I forgot how he’d made me feel petite next to him despite my height. Add in the brawn that all the guys seemed to have packed on, and he took up more space than just the breadth of his body. It made me want to reach out and feel the changes along with seeing them.
And it pissed me off.
I jutted my chin up and faced forward. “I don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate you cornering another girl.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
I snorted. “You’ve already lied once, Parker. Doing it again just lets me know how stupid you think I am.”
“I’m serious. Sonia isn’t my girlfriend. She’s…she’s…”
His hands waved around as if hoping to conjure an answer with magic, and I held my breath, hoping for the magic of a rational answer. Maybe it was all a silly mistake, and we could fix this.
“She’s a contract. We set up a deal to act as a couple when it benefitted us and our jobs. The fans like thinking the songs are about her, and she likes a date with a famous rock star to keep her in the headlines.”
I watched in the blurred reflection of the doors as my face screwed up, mulling over his answer. He said it like it all made sense, but it only served to strike another chord.
“So, not your girlfriend? Just a pretend one?”
“Exactly,” he said, relieved.
“And you…what? Wanted me to come to your shows and look like the other woman? Is that why you asked me to come?”
“No. No. I wanted to see you. I don’t—I don’t want to do the thing with Sonia anymore, and I didn’t want to do the kiss at midnight, but Aspen cornered me and ignored my request. She made it happen, quoting the contract and how I had a job to do.”
Each word weighed on me a little more until I was sure I stood in quicksand. “And what would you do if someone took a picture of me with you, and Aspen said it was your job to let them paint me as the other woman?”
“I-I would—”
He floundered, and it reminded me of the few times I could remember my mom pressing my dad for details and only getting excuses of doing it for the job. It reminded me of the phone call when he stuttered through an excuse of why he couldn’t come home for the fourth time when he promised this time he would.
There was always a reason. And that reason was never me.
Thankfully, the door slid open, and I walked out.
“I wouldn’t let them paint you in a bad way, Nova,” he called to my retreating back.
I stopped and turned, realizing how right I was to not let my guard down and remembering to not do it again while on tour.
“I need someone who wouldn’t hesitate to even answer. Not someone who can’t even defend the theoretical me, because Parker, for men like you, it always comes down to the job. It always comes down to doing what you need to do to make it one step further. I’m more than a stepping stone.”
“I know that, and I intend to prove it.”
Finally, his jaw clamped shut, but the look in his eyes screamed determination. Well, he could be as determined as he wanted, I wasn’t giving in. With a skeptical smile, I turned. “I’ll see you next week, Parker.”
As soon as I made it to the subway, I got out my phone.
Me: You will never believe who just hired me to write songs with.
Rae: NO!!
Me: Fucking. Yes.
Vera: What did you say??
Me: Well, you just don’t say no to that kind of money. Instead, you shove those feelings down and do your job.
Rae: Sounds super healthy.
Me: 100%. Therapist recommended.
Vera: Cool. Let me know how that goes.
Me: Will do.
Me: Also, will you come help me pack?
Rae: Hell yeah! I’m bringing clothes over. We need you looking extra hot on this trip.
Me: I’m good with my clothes. I’m not trying to seduce him.
Rae: Of course not.
Vera: But you do want to make him regret ever hurting you, and what better way than to shove your luscious self in his face.
Me: *looks down at b cup boobs* Luscious?
Rae: Hell yea. FUCKING LUSCIOUS.
Me: Okay. Okay. Maybe a couple low cut tops.
Me: A. COUPLE.
When all I got back was two thumbs up from each of them, I knew I’d be lucky to get anything other than Fredrick’s of Hollywood attire for the entire trip.
To be honest, I didn’t hate the idea of making Parker drool over me. Especially since he would never have me.
Ever.
Eleven
Parker
P A S T
“Surprise!”
Nova stood on the sidewalk, wide-eyed and smiling—even if the smile did look a little forced, trying to hide the nerves.
Her eyes bounced from Ash to Oren to Brogan and finally back to me.
“Happy birthday.”
“Parker.” Her smile softened to a true Nova smile that lit up the dark, pockmarked sidewalk—that lit up the fire in my blood.
Although, it faded back to wide-eyed nervousness when she took in the glowing sign hanging above the heavy wooden doors beyond the guys.
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 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 in awe.
“Yes,” Parker answered, looking ready to float off the ground. “As in the bar that gave some of the biggest bands their break.”
“You guys,” I squealed, clapping my hands. “That’s awesome.”
Ash scooted the shots toward everyone—two each.
“It’s a two-shot kind of celebration.”
We each grabbed a glass and stood around the round table, lifting the shots to the middle. “To fucking crushing it,” Oren said.
“To fucking making it,” Parker added.
“To it all being worth it,” Ash said.
“To proving we fucking can,” Brogan included.
Their eyes turned to me, and I looked back at the four guys who I somehow got lucky to be a part of. “To you guys.”
