"What's up, asshole?" Knox answers.
I can hear the buzzing of tattoo guns in the background.
"Are you at work?" I ask. "I can call back later."
He chuckles. "Don't be stupid. I can multitask."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. And besides, I'm just tattooing this chick. If I mess up, it doesn't matter."
Delaney's voice shrieks in the background, and I laugh. She was never the type for tattoos, but after Knox gave her the first one—a pair of angel wings on her collar bone—she's been obsessed. Thankfully, Knox only lets her get ones that mean something, and only in certain places. He says he doesn't want to ruin the soft look she has going for her.
The same soft look Amelia has when she's not undressing in my living room.
"Everything good, man?" he questions. "You sound off."
"I don't know," I sigh.
There's a momentary pause, and then I hear the tattoo gun click off. "You fucked Amelia, didn't you?"
Choking on air, I have to catch my breath before answering. "No. Well, not exactly."
"Z!"
"What?" I huff. "It was just a one-time thing. I swear."
He sighs into the phone. "And does Easton know about this one-time thing?"
"Am I still alive?"
"Yeah, I didn't think so."
God, I can only imagine what Easton would do if he found out. For starters, he would probably castrate me, blend it into a smoothie, and make me drink it. And that's the nicest thing I can think of. Growing up, it was always the two of them. And despite how much he used to pick on her, he's always been super protective.
In middle school, she tried to have a boyfriend. It was this little nerd named Charles. He didn't even go by Charlie or something cooler sounding. Nope, Charles. Well, when Easton found out about Charles, he literally scared the piss out of him. The poor kid went home with urine stains in his pants and never looked at Amelia again. Granted, all Easton said was to stay away from his sister, but Charles pissed himself before a word even came out of Easton's mouth.
I, however, am his best friend. The rules and expectations are different, and so are the consequences. There's no doubt in my mind that he would cause physical harm.
"So, if it was just a one-time thing, what's the problem?" Knox's voice pulls me from my thoughts.
I shrug, even though he can't see me. "She wishes it wasn't."
He hums. "And so do you."
Groaning, I press my head back into the pillow. "I've been turning her down, but fuck, man, it's getting really difficult. The other night, she showed up while E was out, took her shirt off, and straight up asked me if I was going to fuck her."
Knox barks out an obnoxiously loud laugh. "Who knew little Amelia was so damn ballsy?"
"Right?" I agree. "What the hell happened to the girl who would stutter when spoken to?"
"She grew up and started wanting to screw shitheads."
"Clearly."
The image of her standing against the front door in her bra, with her jeans unzipped and hot pink underwear visible, sticks in the forefront of my mind. It won't fucking go away, no matter how many things I try to distract myself with. I can't even walk down my stairs without thinking about it. She's just so damn perfect.
"So, what happened?" he questions.