I should've insisted we go back down to the party. At least when people are around, I'm able to control myself. But the way she asked if we could stay for a little bit, I didn't stand a chance at denying her.
Hearing her loose-lipped confession was a shock to my system. Sure, it had crossed my mind, especially the other day when she couldn't seem to answer me without stuttering, but I thought I was just letting my imagination get the best of me. I never considered the fact that maybe I was right.
Watching her go to leave, my body reacted before my brain even had a chance to remind me of all the very valid reasons I should stay far away. Like how Easton would rip my head off. Or how she deserves a million times better than me. All I knew was that I couldn't hold back. I needed her like a fucking drug.
It's no secret that we were both drunk, and I was more than slightly high, but I remember everything perfectly. The way her body felt under my own. The sounds she made as I slipped my hand inside her jeans. The look on her face when she came around my finger. My cock starts to harden again just at the memory.
I sit up and rub my hands over my face. At least I stopped myself before I slept with her. We rutted against each other enough to give me perpetual blue-balls, and I fingered her into sexual oblivion, but then we stopped. She went to go check on Kennedy, and I smoked another joint then went to bed.
Still, regardless of how right it felt, it's wrong. So fucking wrong.
The need for caffeine becomes overwhelming and I pull on a pair of sweats. I look myself over in the mirror to make sure there aren't any hickeys before making my way downstairs. Easton is already sitting at the kitchen table when I get in there.
“Good morning,” he greets me, a little too cheery for this level of morning.
I groan tiredly. “Need coffee.”
“There's a full pot on the counter.”
Relief floods through me as I grab a cup out of the cabinet and pour the liquid gold into it. “See, this is why I keep you around.”
He chuckles. “Glad to know that's all I'm good for.”
I shrug. Sure, I could tell him that's not true, but I'm not here to stroke his ego. Leaning against the counter, I blow on my coffee and take a sip. It isn't until Easton opens his mouth again that I almost choke on it.
“Hey, did something happen between you and Amelia last night?”
Aspirating coffee isn't exactly the way I thought I would die, but if it means getting out of this situation, I'd take it. Unfortunately for me, after coughing up some of the boiling liquid, I can breathe again.
“Dude,” I balk. “A fucking warning next time?”
Easton smirks over his cup. “Well, I don't know. People saw you two going upstairs together and then she came back down wearing your shirt.”
Okay, so I'm all for complete honesty when it comes to your friends. Nothing good can come from lying to the people closest to you. However, when I think of what he would do if I told him what really happened last night, lying really is the better option. It's the lesser of two evils. At least in this one, my life gets spared.
“No, no, no.” I shake my head. “Carter, the dick that he is, made me accidentally spill my beer all over her. Being as she was wearing white, I figured you wouldn't want her walking around looking like she just took part in a wet T-shirt contest.”
He shivers at the thought. “Absolutely not.”
“I tried to find you, but you were busy with her upchucking roommate. So, I took her upstairs so she could change and sober up a little.”
Exhaling, he shakes the tension from his body. “Thank God, man. Do you know what I was thinking?”
I fake a laugh as best I can. “No way. She's your baby sister.”
It's official. I'm a piece of shit, and I'm going to hell. I mean, that's nothing I didn't already know, but this is just another thing that carves my fate into stone. What kind of asshole hooks up with the one person who is off-fucking-limits, and then lies to one of their best friends about it? Me, that's who.
Amelia walks into the room looking like she came straight from one of my wet dreams, still wearing my T-shirt, with her hair sleep-rumpled and flowing down her back, and I'm sure this is what they call instant karma. I bite the inside of my lip to keep from making a sound that would give away everything I'm thinking right now.
“Thanks for letting me crash here, E,” she says to her brother.
He smiles warmly at her. “Of course. I wasn't about to let you out of my sight. Not while you were that wasted.”
She winces. “Yeah. I'm going to need some aspirin or something.”
I turn around and reach into the cabinet before giving myself a second to hesitate. Pouring a couple pills into my hand, I pass them to her. Her fingers brush against my palm as she takes them, and I'm brought right back to last night. And so is my cock.
Fuck. No.
Now is not the damn time.
“Thanks, Zayn,” she murmurs, my name sounding like heaven dripping from her lips.
“Yeah, no problem.”
But there is a problem.
A major fucking problem.
And he's sitting no less than ten feet away.
I'M STANDING OUTSIDE, SMOKING a cigarette, when Amelia comes out. I had expected her to leave right after Kennedy woke up, but Easton insisted they haven't spent enough time together lately and encouraged her to hang out.
It's a special kind of torture to have to see her in my favorite shirt and not be able to touch her. Especially when I know what she feels like. Sounds like. How she tastes. So, I did the smartest thing I could think of at the time, and made myself scarce. Now, however, with her standing there looking like my every damn weakness, I know I can't run forever.
“Can I have one?” she asks.
I smirk and shake my head but won't meet her gaze. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Because you don't smoke, and you're not about to start.”
She rolls her eyes. “And I thought Easton was the only one trying to control my life.”
As I exhale, smoke fills the air around me. “He's just looking out for you.”
“I know,” she says, taking a step forward. “But I want to have fun, too.”
Gently, so light I should barely feel it, she runs her finger down my arm, but I do feel it. It's a burning sensation, leaving a tingling feeling in its wake.
Fuck me for this.
I take a step away and watch as the flirty expression drops right off her face. Already, I hate myself for what I'm about to do, but there's no other way. Only two things could come from me getting involved with Amelia. Either Easton murders me in my sleep and eliminates the problem, or he goes back to doing the drugs we've worked so hard to get him away from.
“Meelz,” I breathe.
She presses her lips together in a failed effort to conceal her disappointment. “Oh.”
“No. It's not like that,” I protest.
A sarcastic laugh bubbles out of her mouth. “I'm a big girl, Zayn. You don't need to placate me.”
I'm not even sure what placate means, which is just another one of the many blatantly obvious signs that she's way too good for me. She deserves someone she can be proud of. Someone she can talk pre-law with and likes to play Sudoku for fun. Not a scumbag like me.