by C. A. Harms
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
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Just One Chance
Oh, Tequila Series #1
By C.A. Harms
Just Once Chance
Copyright © 2017 by C.A. Harms.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: August 2017
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-182-1
ISBN-10: 1-64034-182-X
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
Because no matter how tough the world becomes, you must never run out of sweetness.
~ Bernardo Kath
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
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Prologue
Oh Tequila, how you have brought me to oblivion so many times before. A great stage of euphoria, leaving me feeling afloat. No troubles; you made it all seem perfect.
You helped me relax when I was tense.
You helped me get through many occasions I would have rather skipped.
You and I had an agreement. You would give me only what I needed and never would you overstay your welcome. You would not invade my life and leave me to regret your presence. You would be known only in the best kind of way.
But for the first time, Tequila, you failed me.
You left me in a terrible haze, and I can’t find my god damn wallet. Or my left shoe.
How the hell does one lose their shoe, you might ask?
My answer: I have no fucking clue.
I know at one point I was fully dressed, including two shoes, pants, and a shirt.
Well, let’s just say that now my zipper in my jeans is broken, my shirt is missing a sleeve, and I feel a slight breeze through the large hole in the left side of my boxer briefs.
And only one fucking shoe.
I have a pounding headache, Tequila, which tells me you obviously overused me. My mouth tastes like how I imagine ass would taste. And I feel sick, like really sick.
But I can’t blame only you; I have to include my brothers too.
Those fuckers insisted I let loose.
They insisted that for me to get over Britney, I needed to get under another chick. Apparently my moping ass had gotten on their nerves and it was time to relocate my balls. Their words, not mine.
My fraternity brothers are rowdy and fearless. Those dicks don’t care. They took college life to the extreme, and up until now I have managed to keep my head on straight.
That has come to an end, I’m afraid. For one night at least I lowered myself to their level.
Those assholes taunted me and pushed me until I finally gave in and just went with the flow. Drink after drink, shot after shot.
“You need a wild night to forget all about what’s her name,” they said.
“You need to relax and have a good time,” they said. “Forget all your troubles and enjoy life.”
Can I just say at this point I can’t remember shit? I’m not enjoying the after effects of my night of living it up.
You would think by now I’d listen to the voice ringing in my head, saying, “They always get into trouble. Stay clear of their chaos and destruction.”
Every single time.
But no, I went along with their plans for a night of partying, and let’s just say I am now fucked—literally.
The worst part about it is I don’t remember how I got where I am now. I have absolutely no memory of the events that took place once I arrived.
And the person staring back at me with a gleam in their eye is freaking me out. I don’t care much for their smirk, either. It gives my already rolling stomach more reasons to twist.
Chapter 1
Xavier
24 hours earlier
“We drew names and Red is the sober brother for tonight’s party,” Isaac, our fraternity president, announced as he looked around the room.
All eyes were on Elijah as he sat with his arms crossed, scanning the room with a smirk on his face. He looked pretty damn pleased with the announcement.
Corbin was the first one to complain about our so-called sitter for the evening. “No way, man, last time that asshole shaved my eyebrows after I passed out in the upstairs bathroom.
“At least he didn’t pull your pants down, put a big purple dildo in your hand, and take pictures of you. Then decide to share them on social media,” Clayton, Corbin’s twin brother mumbled. Chuckles from all the brothers around the room began and Red continued to sit in the same place, still wearing the same smug grin.
The pride in Red’s eyes made it obvious he’d do it all over again if he had the chance too. There was absolutely no regret there.
The guy loved when his name was chosen. We could almost instantly see the wheels turning in his mind. Oh, the possibilities were endless.
He would rather spend every party sober if it meant he’d gain the chance to torture all of us. Elijah was rewarded the name Red because of the obvious. His hair.
Ever seen a man with a red afro? It was coarse, wild hair that he did nothing to tame.
But he’d had his sha
re of torment handed to him too.
At my hands.
“Well, I think Red got his last month,” I said, all attention now focused on me. Elijah’s eyes narrowed and the earlier smug look on his face was gone. “How long did it take you to get your hand released from your ass cheek, Red?”
“Fuck you,” he mumbled and once again everyone laughed. Only this time the humor was directed at the person responsible for torturing each one of us at one point or another.
But I had a feeling his time for paying me back was coming.
Maybe I shouldn’t have superglued his hand to his bare ass cheek. But it was funny as shit watching him try to get it to let go while the rest of us sat around and laughed. Even when he practically begged for us to help, we each chose to sit back and watch the show.
Red still glared at me, and I could practically hear his mind churning.
“I had sores on my ass for weeks after that,” he complained.
“I told you to stop tugging.” I kept a straight face while everyone around us continued to laugh and make comments quietly. “I also told you that they recommend fingernail polish remover, or submerging yourself in water, to remove the glue.”
“Yeah I know, but none of you assholes would get me any, and it’s next to impossible to buckle my fucking pants with my hand glued to my ass so I could go to the store. Forget putting on a shirt.” More laughter erupted. “And Dicks One and Two were occupying both bathrooms, apparently both suffering from the shits, so you tell me how I could submerge my ass in water?”
Corbin and Clayton seemed to be laughing harder than any of them. I am positive it was related to the fact that neither of them needed the bathroom that morning; they just didn’t want to share with Red.
The way Elijah was looking at me told me I was only poking the sleeping bear. I was giving him more reason to target me. I should have stopped, but it was too much fun.
“Miss Frankie helped ya out though,” I said, hiding my “I won” smirk.
Frankie Lester was our forty-nine-year-old housekeeper. And she had a thing for Red. I think it was the hair.
I chuckled, remembering the time I found her combing her fingers through it while he was sleeping in the chair. No one else was around as I peeked around the corner, watching the way her eyes lit up each time she stroked his head.
“She was more than happy to get the acetone and treat your problem,” I said, slouching back in my chair.
Elijah’s cheeks reddened and I was sure it wasn’t just due to embarrassment. The guy was getting pissed.
That day we all stood around laughing and dodging swings from Elijah while Miss Frankie rubbed acetone on his ass with her fingers. She insisted she had to work it slowly to refrain from scarring his ass.
The lady was practically foaming at the mouth.
I had a feeling I just set myself up for a night of hell. The look in Red’s eyes was all the reassurance I needed. I knew he was already thinking up some form of revenge.
But I couldn’t let him see me sweat.
I’d just stay one step ahead of the game.
Chapter 2
Morgan
I worked too much.
I knew this.
I was nineteen, living on my own. Paying my own way through college, the small amount of classes I could afford, anyway. I knew at this rate it would take me twice as long to get a degree, but in the end it would be worth it.
I had watched my family struggle for far too long.
My father worked double shifts to make ends meet, and my mother stayed home with my brother, Toby.
My little brother required a lot of attention and a lot of therapy.
Which also required a lot of money.
Toby had cerebral palsy, which gave him a lifetime of struggles.
He was bound to a wheelchair, and though to some he may appear as if everyday life had no effect on him, I could assure them he was well aware. Things bothered him, and he knew he was different, even though none of us who love him treated him as such. He is our special guy, who, on most days, was a happy, sweet boy.
And even when he wasn’t, we loved him just as hard to show him that no matter what, we would always be on his team.
To me, asking my parents for help was like taking from him. And I’d never do that.
So working hard, forcing myself to be a grown-up when everyone around me was being a typical nineteen-year-old college student, was mandatory.
But tonight I was letting go of the mature side.
I was letting my hair down, wearing something hot, and attending my very first fraternity party.
It took convincing, and a lot of nagging from my best friend Marcus, but I went for it.
I just hoped I didn’t embarrass myself too much.
Did I mention I hate parties?
Drunk guys, even drunker girls, hanging all over one another, their morals going right out the window as they practically dry humped each other in front of an entire room of onlookers. I shivered at the thought.
The smell of booze and sweat as the bodies of college students crammed themselves into one house.
Loud thumping music, and those girls who took the center of the room and made it their own personal stage. They annoyed the hell out of me.
Attention whores, that’s what they were. Those women who felt like they had to have all eyes on them.
Have you ever wanted to toss a bag of marbles to the floor at someone’s feet and keep walking? Or even thumbtacks?
I have; I’ve even envisioned it in my mind. And smiled too, as I pictured them falling to the floor, squealing like baby pigs. Arms and legs flying out in all directions, their asses making contact with the floor in loud thuds.
Bet that would get the attention of the entire room.
I chuckled to myself as I shuffled through the shoes in my closet, looking for my other suede boot.
“What the hell are you giggling about in there?” I heard Marcus ask behind me. I didn’t even take the time to turn around to face him. I continued my search for that one boot I felt would complete my outfit.
“Oh nothing,” I said over my shoulder just as I spotted the light brown braided suede.
“Have you started drinking early?” he asked as he backed away when I spun around to face him. I’m sure I was wearing a crazed look on my face, overjoyed that I found the treasure I was seeking.
Holding my boot out I shook it, expressing my excitement, and he crinkled up his eyes in confusion. “Or have you moved on to other highs I’m unaware of?”
“Okay, smart ass, if you must know I was imagining torture tactics for the bimbos at these stupid ass parties.” I sat down on the edge of my bed and lifted my leg up, paying little attention to the fact that I had a skirt on. Marcus had no interest in me, or any other woman, for that matter.
“Bimbos?” he asked, as he leaned back against my dresser and crossed his arms over his chest. Which only made the muscles in his arms flex.
Had Marcus not been batting for the other team I would so ruffle his feathers in the best kind of way.
Did I mention my best friend was hot? Like super-hot.
“You know,” I continued, shaking off the thought of molesting my best friend. “Those cheeky girls who drive me insane.”
“Most girls drive you insane,” he corrected.
I tried to look offended, but it was true. “True,” I said with a smile.
Women were catty and judgmental, and I did my best to avoid any close friendships with someone of the same sex. They were jealous and I found it hard to relate to other women.
I didn’t complain.
I sure as hell didn’t look for someone to pamper me or baby me. That kind of shit drove me crazy.
I was a girl who knew what she wanted. And damn it, I wasn’t the type to sit around and gossip about it later. If I had something to say I would tell that person, not everyone else around them.
“That’s why I love you, Marcus. You don’t whine, and you don�
�t expect me to be all sweet and understanding.” I shrugged. “I can be a bitch and you don’t judge me for it.”
“That’s because I can be a bitch too,” he added as he pushed off my dresser and walked toward the door. “You need to hurry, by the way. Toby’s waiting for us to bring him his ice cream.”
He walked out, leaving me with a smile on my face.
Marcus had been my best friend since I was nine. He moved in next door to me, and most kids teased him from the start instead of befriending him. Kids can be assholes sometimes. They refused to give him a chance to fit in. So instead of going along with the rest of the kids, I distanced myself. And spent all my time with Marcus.
In turn he became part of my family and I his.
He loved my brother like his own and every Saturday he made sure we brought Toby his favorite Oreo cookie ice cream.
Marcus was a bad ass.
Chapter 3
Xavier
“Jay,” I hollered as I rushed toward him. “What the hell are you doing?”
He was hanging half over the balcony that overlooked the living room below, a disco ball dangling from his hand as he attempted to hook it onto the chandelier that hung from the ceiling.
“I need to…” he started to say as he stretched a little further, “…just hook this right here.”
On instinct I grabbed his legs as he stretched.
“No, dumbass, the only thing you’re gone do is fall off the balcony and break your neck,” I told him.
I refused to let go of his legs.
“Got it,” he said, his body finally sagging back toward mine. This quick unexpected movement only caused me to stumble and in the process he fell in the same direction.
When I hit what felt like a brick wall behind me, I looked back over my shoulder. And of course it was Elijah, standing with his arms crossed, watching us with his eyebrow cocked in question.
“Do the two of you need some alone time?” he asked, his eyes focused solely on me.