this surprise?” I ask, pointing at Avery while purposely avoiding Whitney.
“Ah, you sting me, boy genius, but it’s a good thing your boyfriend has tempted me with food and my sister with wine,” she offers. And Avery has not had much of a chance to get a word in edgewise with her chatty sister.
“Knox offered to cook for us.” Avery finally speaks, and her tone instantly calms me.
Knox’s arms swing around my shoulders. “Yeah, I’m making a simple pasta tonight. And thought I’d tempt Avery without the thought of cooking.”
Simple for Knox in the kitchen isn’t simple at all. “What kind of pasta, sweetheart?” And my stomach starts complaining now that I think about how I skipped lunch today.
He must interpret my thought process. “It’s seriously the easiest dish, my creamy pasta pepperoni, so I can spend more time hanging out with all of you.”
And although I enjoy the ribbing with Avery’s sister, I wish it was simply the three of us.
Avery pushes her bowl of pasta away. “Hell, that was good. I think I may be coming over here for dinner every night.” I’m about to say it sounds like a plan when she turns her attention to Whitney. “Do you still have homework to do?” Ave lets out a small snort when her sister rolls her eyes. “Okay, so with the roll of your eyes, I’d say you do. March your small little ass home and start on it now that you’ve been fed.”
She stands, giving a little bow. “I bid you adieu, boy genius and Robin Hood. I’ll see you at our next dinner date.” She turns on her heels and is gone, and we’re left with Avery all to ourselves.
“Sorry about her teenage angst.”
Knox waves her off. “Nah, she’s funny. Of course, I don’t have to live with her emo self.”
Her demeanor changes as she pulls a lock of her straight dark mocha hair from in front of her emerald eyes. “She can be difficult, but then again, she’s the most important person in the world to me. Her father has had her for two years and pretty much let her raise herself. She’s responsible for a sixteen-year-old, but she shouldn’t have to worry about if her father paid rent or bought groceries.”
She’s opening up to us, and I’m hanging on whatever information she gives. “That’s rough,” Knox begins. “But there’s no doubt in my mind you’d do anything for her.”
“Yeah, you’re right. But that’s enough of the serious talk. I want to know more about you guys.”
I know Knox too well. He sets his chin in his hands with his elbows on the table. “We’re an open book.” He shifts his gaze to me. “Well, at least I am.” He points my way. “But I’ll answer any questions about Ro that he won’t answer for himself.”
I take a swig of my third beer for the night, and Avery finishes the red in her large wineglass. I lean over, pouring her more, and she graciously accepts it.
She swirls it around and finally takes a sip, her eyes bouncing from Knox to myself.
“How did you guys meet?”
This is all superficial, nothing deep, but I can’t imagine she’ll ask the harder questions, inquiring about the chemistry the three of us share.
“We grew up as neighbors. Go figure, right? We were close as friends even though we were opposites.” Knox’s explanation isn’t entirely the truth.
I push the chair back, squeaking it on the floor. On my way to the fridge, I fill in the missing pieces. “He’s being humble. We didn’t quite socialize in the same circles. But Knox, as he’s been his whole life, gave the proverbial middle finger to class and social standings, and the first day in third grade, when someone tried to take my lunch money, he stuck up for me, and we were instant friends.”
It’s funny, Knox is a very arrogant man, but when I gush on and on about the honorable person he truly is, his humility shines through.
“Oh, he’s being dramatic,” Knox insists.
“Even his own father didn’t want him hanging out with the likes of me. But then again, Knox didn’t care. He could have played and would have excelled at any sport, but he chose art. And he was still in the in crowd, being protected all through school.”
“So, wait, you were friends?” We both nod at her, and Knox takes the beer opener, popping the caps to both our lagers.
“When did this start?” She points at Knox and me.
“You mean,