Home > No Bad Days (The Fisher Brothers #1)(2)

No Bad Days (The Fisher Brothers #1)(2)
Author: J. Sterling

When I reached the kitchen, I noted the bar setup and the brothers assigned to man it. Everything looked great. We had a wide range of hard alcohol, mixers, and an ice-cold keg, thanks to my brothers. It took everything in me not to slip behind the bar with them, wanting nothing more than to play bartender like in that old Tom Cruise movie from the eighties.

Someone handed me a red cup filled with beer, and I nodded before turning around and smacking right into another hot little number named Monika, with a k. Who the hell spelled their name like that?

“Hey, Nick, I was looking for you,” she said, practically purring as she grinned up at me.

I slid my arm around her waist. “Oh yeah? What for?”

“I wanted to give you something.” She pressed her scantily clad body against mine, making me wonder exactly what I was going to get.

“What is it?”

“Me.”

Monika smiled before standing on tiptoe to throw her arms around my neck. She pulled my head down and kissed me, her tongue pushing its way into my mouth a little too aggressively, but I decided not to give a shit as I kissed her back.

Pulling away a moment later, I forced a smile before downing my beer and tapping the empty cup on the counter, signaling for a refill. When it returned, I gulped down half before feeling up to kissing serpent-tongue again.

Apparently, I must not have hated kissing her that much, because I spent the rest of the night doing it.

 

 

Confident and Hot

 

 

Jess

 

 

Walking across the sunlit college campus, I smiled to myself when I noticed Nick Fisher and his entourage heading in my direction. Never alone, he was flanked by at least a couple of other guys at all times.

Running my fingers through my shoulder-length blond hair, I made sure it was smooth, wanting to look good for him whether he noticed or not.

Even the blinding sun was no match for Nick’s charms. Nick outshone her on every level, and I glanced up toward the gleaming fireball and realized that she knew it too. I didn’t blame her for hiding behind that cloud as he passed beneath her.

If there were clouds that I could hide behind, I might have done the same. But then I wouldn’t get the chance to ogle his delicious body and possibly be noticed by him.

Nick Fisher was a senior at State, the president of his fraternity chapter, and had played on the football team until he quit last year. He’d claimed he had no intention of going pro, and didn’t want to take someone’s spot who did.

His frat was known to throw the best parties on campus, and that was solely due to his talents. If there was something Nick wanted to accomplish, he did, and you felt lucky when you got to be a part of the process. He was a marketing major, ridiculously skilled in all things social media, and seemed to know everyone in the entire freaking world.

Plus, the rumor was that his real brothers owned three of the hottest bars in Hollywood, so the drinks at his parties were always off the charts. I had no idea if that was true or not. There was a blurry line between fact and fiction when it came to all things Nick Fisher.

Staring down at my pink toenails revealed by my strappy sandals as I stepped across the concrete, I allowed my gaze to lift in his direction as he neared, his dark hair cut short and tucked under a backward baseball hat. With a quick glance at the other two guys, I realized that they were Nick’s fraternity brothers, who I recognized from the party at their house last Friday night. Both of them were taller than Nick, who stood about six feet tall, but neither was built better.

Don’t get me wrong, Nick didn’t look like a total musclebound meathead. I couldn’t stand guys who were nothing but hard muscle upon even harder muscle; I could never understand why anyone would think that was attractive. Who wanted to lean against something that felt like concrete? Not me.

Nick was built like an athlete—firm, defined, and blissfully chiseled without overdoing it. He looked good. And he knew it. His self-confidence was part of what made him so irresistible. When a guy could pull off being that self-aware of his effect on others—without coming off as a self-absorbed jerk—there was nothing hotter, in my opinion. And I wasn’t the only girl who agreed with that assessment. Nick Fisher was wanted by at least half the females who went to State, or at least it seemed that way.

No, it was definitely that way.

Common sense warned me that I shouldn’t want a guy like Nick the way every other girl did, but the rest of me refused to agree. I shouldn’t like him, but I did. I shouldn’t be interested in him at all, but I was. I was a fool for his charms, and I didn’t even care. That was the thing about Nick . . . you knew you should stay away from him, but you didn’t want to. If he wanted to give me his attention, I’d gladly accept it.

Not that he’d ever said more than two words to me before, but I’d seen him plenty of times since I started going to school here. Nick was bigger than life, magnetic in every single thing he did. Even something as simple as walking.

By the time his group was about ten feet away from me, all their eyes were locked onto some part of my body or face. His two buddies checked out my boobs and the sliver of my stomach exposed by my crop top, but not Nick. His blue eyes stayed firmly focused on mine. He cocked a lopsided grin at me as we passed each other, and I hoped to God I smiled back. I could barely feel my own feet at that point, let alone my mouth.

I wanted to turn my head and enjoy the view as he walked away, but I forced myself to continue looking straight ahead. I might have been part of the Nick Fisher fan club, but that didn’t mean I had to embarrass myself because of it.

Hurrying toward the white building in the distance, I refocused my attention on getting to the right classroom. The first day of the spring semester meant that I had left extra early this morning to avoid the potential awkwardness of walking in late. Truth be told, I was notoriously great at getting lost. I was directionally challenged, to say the least.

Scanning my schedule one last time, I matched the number for where my Speech Communications class was being held with the tall three-story building in front of me. I breathed out a sigh of relief before glancing at my cell phone, and realized that I was twenty minutes early. Shrugging to myself, I located the correct door and walked into the empty classroom, then chose a seat in the last row.

I had this thing about sitting in the last row in large rooms. It was completely stupid, but I hated the idea of people staring at the back of my head, even when I knew they weren’t. The simple thought of them being behind me, looking at me, watching me, or seeing me when I couldn’t see them, it all sort of freaked me out. It made no sense, and I wasn’t sure where the illogical fear stemmed from, but I’d been this way for as long as I could remember. Just thinking about someone sitting directly behind me almost made me break out into a sweat.

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