Blame It on the Tequila Read Online Fiona Cole

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors:
Advertisement1

Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
<<<<516169707172738191>116
Advertisement2


I whimpered when my feet finally touched the ground, not wanting to part.

“Haunted Obsession,” someone called.

We parted and turned to find a tall, broad man strolling toward us. I almost had to do a double-take because while I’d never met Brogan’s dad, this man looked like he could be Brogan’s dad. But darker. An older, darker Viking built the same way as Brogan.

“Hey, I’m Grant Sommers from GS Productions. I was one of the judges and just wanted to come say how amazing I thought you guys were.”

“Thanks, Grant. We appreciate it,” Parker said, shaking his hand.

They all introduced themselves, and I lingered back, letting them have their moment. Except when he looked past the guys to me. “I didn’t know you had a female singer, too.”

“Hi, I’m Nova.” I waved, taking a small step into the circle.

“Yeah, Supernova is our secret weapon. She basically keeps us all in line and sings when we can coax her to,” Ash explained.

“Very cool.” Grant looked me up and down but not in a sexual way. More like he was trying to piece together a puzzle. “Well, she may have been the weapon you needed to win. I’m only one judge, but you have my vote tonight. In fact, here’s my card. Email me, and maybe we can set up some shows.”

Parker accepted the card, and they all barely held in their excitement until Grant left. As soon as he rounded the corner, they jumped, shoved, punched, hugged, and even shrieked a little for joy.

The excitement kept pouring in when they were announced the winners of the night, winning a prize package, including money, equipment, and a spot to open for a band at a big concert venue.

By the time we made it back to the apartment, I was beat, but they talked me into joining them down on the basketball court in the basement for beers.

“That was fucking awesome. Best night ever,” Brogan said. He leaned back against the cement wall, his eyes closed, a beer clutched in his hand, and a serene smile on his face.

“Dude,” Oren said, abandoning the basketball he tossed around. He was the only one on his feet still. We all lined the wall, looking exactly like Brogan. Happy and tired. “Grant fucking Sommers. How cool.”

“We’re on the edge of making it. I can feel it,” Parker declared.

“Thank god. I don’t want to go to college,” Ash said.

“If it takes a while, what will you do?” I asked, always looking at the practical side.

“Probably football,” Brogan answered first, not sounding happy.

“My dad wants me to play basketball, but I don’t fucking think so. He can fuck off with that,” Ash grumbled. He didn’t talk about his dad much, but when we did, it rarely sounded anything like love.

“What about you, Oren?” I asked. He was back to playing ball, this time with an imaginary ball. Just bouncing side to side, whirling around to fake out an opponent that wasn’t there.

“Don’t know,” he answered, coming to a stop. “I kind of like Physics. Maybe I’ll shoot for the moon. Literally. NASA sounds like a badass job.”

Somehow, I forgot that Oren was the smartest one out of all of us. His mind was just like his body, working in overtime.

“I don’t want to do anything but this,” Parker said beside me.

“Solid,” Oren agreed, holding his fist out to Parker.

Ash turned my question on me. “What about you?”

“Probably art school. I’d love to go to the Art Institute in Chicago.”

“Not that you need art school,” Parker muttered, bumping his shoulder to mine with a smile.

“I can always learn more.”

Before we could say anything else, Oren shouted, making my heart jump up into my throat.

“Holy fucking fuck. Holy fuck. Yes. So much fucking yes.”

“Dude, what the fuck is going on?” Brogan asked, looking just as alarmed as me.

“Someone uploaded a video to YouTube of us tonight—like less than an hour ago and look at all those fucking likes. Look at them!” Oren shoved the phone in our faces.

Ash snatched his wrist to hold him still. “Holy shit,” he muttered.

Brogan shoved him out of the way. “Is that fifty? Fucking fifty?”

“Fifty shares?” I asked.

“Fifty thousand,” Oren exclaimed. “We’re fucking viral, motherfuckers.” He abandoned his phone with the guys who still stared in awe and ran a victory lap, shouting for joy the entire way.

“They’re talking about you too, Nova. About how amazing your voice is,” Parker said with pride.

I pulled the phone over and scrolled through the comments. I saw the good ones, but I also saw quite a few others. “These are…kind of creepy. This guy commented seven times. Ew.”

“I’d like to see her open her mouth that wide for me,” Brogan read one of the comments, cringing with me.

“The internet is a weird place,” Ash explained, brushing off any concern. “You just got to block those sociopaths out and focus on the majority.”


Advertisement3

<<<<516169707172738191>116

Advertisement4