Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Sounds about right.” Oren nodded, getting up off the floor. “You know what we need?” he asked, turning to the iPad on the wall.
We watched him expectantly, all muttering different variations of doubt when he turned the main lights off and left the accessory lights along the ceiling’s edge on. Before the music even started, Oren’s hips rocked side to side, only increasing our groans, tossing scraps of paper from our failed writing attempts at him.
It didn’t faze him. When Billie Eilish came over the speakers, he danced to the kitchen, digging in the cabinet to come out with a bottle of tequila.
“Oh, no,” I objected before he could get glasses.
“Oh, yes,” he responded with a smile. “It’s time to dance this funk out and drink tequila. We’re bound to say something poetic with tequila.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever said anything poetic with tequila.”
“Come on, Supernova,” he coaxed, dancing toward the group.
I looked around, and the guys were already accepting their shots. I looked to Parker to gauge his reaction about stopping writing but was met with an amused smile and shrug before he downed the shot.
“At this point, I’m willing to try anything,” he explained.
Three weeks and two mediocre songs sat next to me in my notebook. In less than a month, we needed to have at least five, and it wasn’t looking good at this rate. Shaking my head, I agreed with Parker. I was willing to try anything, and while our adventures were helping, they weren’t helping fast enough. “Fuck it,” I muttered, taking the glass from Oren and shooting the liquor back. It burned down my throat, and I barely felt it settle in my stomach before I held my glass out for another.
“That’s my girl,” Oren crowed, filling my glass.
This time, when I looked over, Parker was the one assessing me, and I copied his shrug. “Why the fuck not.”
The liquor hit my veins, and I rolled my neck to the beat, loosening my tense muscles. The chords sank into my muscles, easing them more. I closed my eyes and moved my shoulders first, working down to my hips, limited by my position on the couch.
Next thing I knew, hands wrapped around mine, jerking me up into Oren’s arms. He narrowed his eyes in a sultry stare, pouting his lips, and held me as he swayed our hips to the music blasting through the speakers.
Laughing, I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave in to the rhythm. We all danced around each other, shouting lyrics, and letting loose. After those two shots, I decided to stick with water, but the rest of the guys finished off the bottle. More than once, Parker and I found each other and danced, but the guys around us helped keep me from staying too long. Not that it mattered because each time my eyes met his, each time his hands held mine to twirl me around, another crack formed in my resolve.
“Ooooo,” Oren shouted between songs. “You know what we should play?”
“Oh, shit,” Parker muttered. “The last time Oren said that sentence, I ended up streaking down a hotel corridor with just a hand towel.”
“Hey, that was your fault for sucking at strip poker,” Oren defended.
“No,” I gasped.
“Yup.”
I looked him up and down, imagining Parker’s long, hard body running down the hallway, not at all covered by a towel. I kind of couldn’t wait for Oren’s idea, keeping my fingers crossed for strip poker.
“Spin the bottle,” he cried.
“Uhhhh,” Brogan interjected, looking dubious. There’s a lot of guys here, bro.”
“Psshh, we’re all friends. It’s not like we have to make out. We just have this empty bottle of tequila, and what else should we do with it?”
“Throw it away?” Ash suggested.
“Nah,” I cut in. “I am one-hundred-percent down with this idea.”
“I fucking bet,” Parker muttered.
“Okay, you big babies. We’ll do a truth or kiss version of spin the bottle,” Oren amended.
“What the hell is that?” Brogan asked.
“I don’t know. I just made it up. Let’s figure it out together. Come, come,” Oren said, clapping his hands. “Let’s gather around.”
I plopped down in my seat so fast, almost bouncing in excitement to get going. For some reason, I saw absolutely no downside to kissing every guy here. I’d just blame it on the tequila.
“I’ll go first.” Oren spun the bottle, and I looked up expectantly when it landed on me. “Okay, Nova. Truth or kiss?”
“Who do I kiss?” I asked.
Instead of answering, he waggled his brows.
I snorted. “Truth.”
“Ugh. Fine. Okay. Soft or hard…tacos.”
“Hard,” I shouted like I won a prize or something. I took my turn and spun the bottle, landing on Brogan. “Truth or kiss, Brogan?”
“Definitely kiss.”
The guys cheered with ooooohhs, and I pretended to primp my messy hair.
Oren quickly cut the cheers down with his drumsticks on the table. “Order! Order at the table! Brogan has chosen kiss, so Nova gets to choose who he kisses.”