First-Time Caller (Heartstrings, #1)

by B.K. Borison

Her voice is smooth. Honey in a mug of hot tea. The window cracked open halfway, fresh air rolling in.

💕

Lucie laughs, bold and bright. I want to yank out the headphone jack and fill the studio with it.

💕

Aiden’s voice is much clearer. It fills the living room, rough and scratchy.

Lovely

I watch as she scrapes together her bravery.

Love this line

“I like that. Thinking that I’m worth paying attention to. Something ordinary made extraordinary by the person you’re sharing it with.”

Love this

of my spine, and my whole body gets heavier. “Nah, Lucie.” In my dream, he brushes a kiss against my forehead. “I think you’re the magic.”

Aw

“I need change,” she says. “I know. That’s why you’re doing the show.”

Lol

I’m drunk on her smile. Desperate to know more about her. I want to know her favorite pizza toppings. What sort of toothpaste she uses. If her blush disappears once it reaches the top of her chest or if her whole body flushes pink. I’m buying mint chocolates at CVS because I can’t quit the craving. I want my hands in her hair and my mouth at her throat. I have fantasies where I bend her over this table. Others where I wrap her in a blanket and feed her toast.

swoon

Lucie fills up this room like a ghost, and kissing her did not calm the attraction like I had hoped. It poured gasoline all over it and I’m walking around with a wildfire in my chest.

💗😊

My restraint is a house of cards in a windstorm.

delicious simile

trucks,” I shout back, a four-wheeler zooming past us with Usher blaring.

? an 18-wheeler, maybe?

I feel like I’ve swallowed an entire swarm of bees. I add it to my list of ridiculous symptoms.

such a great description.

Maybe Lucie doesn’t make me stupid. Maybe she just makes me honest. Everything sits right at the surface with her, waiting to bubble over. It’s…good. Strange. But good.

😍🪄

Now I know what he was doing with his seven minutes. He was collecting every spare blanket and a beach towel—if the blue sea turtles are any indication—to create a makeshift tent. “Like a picnic,” I breathe. I look up at him and grin. “You remember what I said.” A dark room. Headphones over my ears. A mug of coffee in my hands. Aiden, right next to me, his knee pressed to mine. I like thinking that I’d be worth the trouble of something like that. “I remember all the things you’ve said,” he grumbles, voice low, and I’m not sure I was supposed to hear it because he rubs his free hand over his mouth and continues to stare at the fort. Meanwhile I’m practically bursting next to him, champagne bubbles of happiness rising in the center of my chest. I feel like I’m Charlie in the chocolate factory, right after he drinks that bubble juice. I’m about to float through the ceiling.

💕

but then a guy on a four-wheeler lays on his horn and I resign myself to my fate.

I don't think that word means what you think it means.

Lucie’s laugh wraps itself around me like ribbons.

Gorgeous line