I wanted to rip out my hair. I hated not being able to make a solid decision about Nova and just stick with it. I guessed this was part of being a teen—all the angst and being unable to follow through on what you needed because of what you wanted.
She sighed and tossed her book aside. “Fine.”
“Yes,” I shouted, arms tossed in the air. I did a victory lap around her art table and back to her bed like Rocky Balboa. She shifted to the edge, laughing at my antics. I gripped her shoulders and hoisted her up, turning her toward the bathroom.
“Listen, you don’t have to get changed, but maybe wear something other than slippers. Also, brush your teeth, so you don’t clear out the house the first time you speak.”
“Oh, fuck you, Parker.”
“Oohhh, shit. Nova just swore. It’s gonna be a good night,” I cheered.
She rolled her eyes just before slamming the bathroom door in my face. Turning, I leaned my back against the wall and smiled, inhaling as deep as I could to stretch my lungs. It would be a good night. As long as I could keep my hands off my stepsister, we’d be fine.
By the time Nova emerged, Ash was waiting and whistled, looking her up and down.
“Damn, Nova. Those boots were made for walking, and they can walk all over me,” he declared.
She did a twirl, her long hair fanning out like a spreading wildfire, lifting one of her grass-green, crushed velvet boots. Nova had a thing for shoes, and I remembered when she came home with those. She wore them around the apartment for days, even in her pajamas, because apparently, she needed to break them in before taking them out on the town.
“Come on,” I grumbled, playfully shoving Ash toward the door—kind of.
By the time we walked into the industrial loft, the party was in full swing. As soon as we cleared the doors, Kelly threw herself at me, making me bump into Nova.
“Parker! You made it.”
The beer on her breath almost took me down faster than her surprise attack. “Already drinking?”
“Just a little.” She held her thumb and pointer finger barely apart. “Hey, guys.” She waved at Nova and Ash, not bothering to untangle her arms from my neck.
Kelly smacked a kiss against my cheek and caught me up on what had already taken place. She was a cool girl. Laid-back and easy to be with. We both knew she liked me more than I did her, but it never stopped her from wanting to be with me.
She was the perfect distraction—her black hair and tan skin making it impossible for me to imagine Nova whenever Kelly and I fooled around. I already struggled to keep thoughts of Nova from my imagination. I definitely didn’t need a picture of a redhead bobbing over my lap to go along with those fantasies.
“You want a drink?” Kelly asked.
“Sure.”
Before I could say anything, she tugged me to the kitchen, Ash and Nova following behind. Kelly poured two drinks and danced around me, doing her best to get my attention, but I couldn’t stop staring at Nova as she accepted the shot of tequila. I stood right next to her but somehow barely hung on the fringes of the attention she gave to Ash. I watched her take the shot, her delicate throat swallowing it down. She cringed and coughed before tossing her head back, laughing. The lights from the living area flashed, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Pinks, blues, greens splashed across her smiling face, and I thought about our recent science lesson. “Supernova,” I whispered, not even realizing I’d said it until all attention was focused on me.
Her big green eyes looked at me, and I couldn’t look away. It wasn’t until her nose scrunched up that I realized I spoke loud enough to hear.
“Supernova?” she asked.
I knew I should be aware of Kelly still clinging to me, but I couldn’t make myself care. “Yeah. You’re like an exploding star—all bright lights and energy.”
The confusion dropped from her eyes like a gate being let down, and a flash of honesty flared like a flame hitting me square in the chest.
“It’s totally the red hair,” Kelly announced, bringing the gate back down over Nova’s gaze.
“And those green shoes,” Ash added, thoroughly breaking the moment.
“Thank you?” Nova responded, laughing, but still looked at me curiously.
“What is up, my buddies?” Oren greeted, saving me from explaining more. He walked up behind us with his arms spread wide. The giant linebacker behind him looked a little out of place in our crew but had managed to find a spot.
While we wore band tees and relaxed jeans, Brogan Carmichael wore a polo and perfectly pressed jeans—his blond hair styled to a T. He was the star linebacker for our football team and also the new rhythm guitarist for our band. Like me, he’d just moved here, and through an unlikely run-in, we made fast friends.