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)
Incest. Illegal. What do your parents say?
Nothing because despite everyone calling him my brother, Parker Callahan wasn’t my brother.
He also wasn’t mine, and it was good to remember that to help control my growing fantasies. Fantasies that came to a screeching halt when girls tagged along with the guys. As much as I wanted to control this desire, I didn’t need to stab it with a knife, creating painful jabs from watching some girl hang all over him. Last week, I saw him kiss a girl in school and immediately wanted to bleach my eyes and scrape the memory from my brain and heart.
Yeah, I was good with not hanging out with them.
“Thanks for the offer, though.”
With a nod, he left, and I gathered my things to shower just as the front door closed, marking Parker’s exit.
Silence. The apartment didn’t make a noise beyond the quiet hum of the heater kicking on. I didn’t mind because, like a total cliché, I loved to sing in the shower.
Rubbing the loofa across my chest, I was about a minute and a half into belting out the best part of my favorite Adele song when the door banged against the cabinet drawers I always kept open for just this purpose of alerting me if a serial killer was breaking in to kill me. My vocal cords seized up, choking off all sound.
My heart thudded faster and faster. Adrenaline flooded every ounce of my body. In those point two seconds, my mind whirled with possibilities, and I slapped a hand to my chest as if to hold my heart inside and scanned the shower for a weapon. Why didn’t I put a weapon in the shower?
“You can fucking sing,” Parker crowed from beyond the curtain.
Just Parker. Not a serial killer. Not someone I would have to throw shampoo bottles at and try to shave to death as I stood there naked and wet.
My legs almost gave out when the adrenaline ebbed.
Only to come roaring back because Parker fucking Callahan was just on the other side of the shower as I stood there naked.
“What the fuck, Parker,” I screeched.
“You can fucking sing,” he repeated, this time the words slowly processing.
Except, it didn’t change my response because Parker was still there while I was still naked. “What the fuck are you doing in here, Parker?”
“I came back in and heard you singing and kind of just acted.”
“What if I had been naked and not in the shower?”
“I have my eyes closed,” he explained like that made everything all right.
“Jesus Christ,” I screeched again. It was about the only pitch I could make with that kind of shock zinging through my body. “How would you feel if I barged in on you in the shower?”
“Uhhh…” he dragged out. “Not sad.”
Wait. What?
“What?”
For an answer, I got a cleared throat and change of subject. “Nova, your voice is amazing. I had no fucking clue, and it’s so fucking good.”
“Parker!” I shouted.
I stood there with my arm across my chest and the other blocking the apex of my thighs just in case the shower curtain collapsed or something, and he wanted to talk about my voice. I couldn’t even fathom dwelling on the comment he made about not being sad if I barged in on him.
“Fine, fine,” he said, exasperated. “But we’re not done with this. I’ll be outside, and we can talk then.”
“What about Ash?”
“He’s on his way up. I was halfway down the stairs when he said his parents were home, and we decided to meet here.”
Keeping my arm across my chest, I abandoned my groin and held the curtain back just enough to peer out and narrow my eyes at him. Hearing the rustle of the rings against metal, he cracked one eye open, and I gave him my most deadly glare. “We will not talk about this with him around.”
As if I yanked the curtain back to bare my whole body, he stared, taking in every minuscule inch bared of my shoulder and face. Heat burned where his eyes touched, but I couldn’t tell if it was from his look or embarrassment.
“Parker,” I snapped.
His eyes shot to mine before slamming closed again. With his hands up, he backed away. “Fine. But we will talk about it.” Before the door closed behind him, with his lids still squeezed shut, he brought two fingers to his eyes and then pointed at me. He looked so ridiculous that even though images from my possible death by serial killer in the shower still played, I laughed.
Not making another peep, I quickly finished up my shower and took the time to blow-dry my hair and put on makeup. My plan was to take so much time in the bathroom that they forgot about me, and then I’d dash to my room and lock the door.