"I know that it looks bad," I pointed at the television screen which played the TMZ video on repeat. "But— Reece started it."

Dad looked at Amalia. "Is this Reece?"

"No this is Amalia," I laced our fingers together. "She just slept over last night. So I could take her with me to the tattoo parlour this morning."

Mom stared down at our joined hands and smiled. She looked as if she was about to get up and introduce herself but Dad wasn't done it would seem.

"Well explain what happened because you do realise your actions display poorly on your mother and I, right?" He leaned against the countertop and folded his arms. "What are people going to think if it looks like we let our kids go off to house parties, drink and get into fights. We let you go out because you usually keep your shit together. Am I going to have to fake putting you in rehab?"

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Reece kicked off. Abby was ignoring her but she wouldn't drop it. So I stepped in and tried to split it up—"

"Where is Abby?" Dad interrupted, standing up straighter.

"She slept over at Milly's last night," I assured him before he panicked.

"Well why didn't she text us?"

"Oh she did," Mom looked at him and adjusted the shoulder straps of her tank top. "Yeah she sent me a text."

"Of course," he stared at his wife with exasperation. "Mom who lets her do whatever she wants."

"What are you starting with me for? She was at Milly's. Where is the issue?"

"Because how do we know that she was at Milly's. She's been talking about some kid at school she's been spending time with. Don't you remember what you were like at her age?!"

I pointed at Dad in agreement. "He makes a good point," I said. "But Flynn dropped the girls off. I made sure he kept an eye on her."

"Flynn is such a good kid," Dad seemed pleased with the information.

"Dad, can you put some clothes on?"

He stared at me as if I hadn't spoken English. "Is this not my house? Do I not pay the bills? Before you were born, I used to walk around butt naked. Count your blessings I didn't raise you all in a nudist household."

Mom stared down at her tea and giggled. These two would have been insufferable to be around as teenagers.

"Okay fine but we have a guest so cover up old man."

"Amalia," he came around and stood in front of us, offering his hand. She politely shook it. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Drayton and this is Dallas."

Mom stood beside him, looking excited.

"It's nice to meet you both," Amalia nodded with a genuine smile. "Lucas has told me a lot of good things about both of you."

"Mhmm. Sure he has," Dad gave me a suspicious glare.

Mom sighed. "You are so beautiful," she told Amalia.

"Oh, thank you."

Dad gave me a light slap on the shoulder. "Ya know, I think it's great you haven't let Lucas' condition deter you from spending time with him."

What. The. Fuck?

We both stared at him and I clenched my jaw in frustration because I could see the subtle expression in his features. He was going to say something fucking dumb. I could tell.

"Yeah it takes a selfless woman to be with a man who suffers from micropenis. There aren't a lot of girls who want to hang around a guy who's dick is the size of a thumb."

I knew he was lying. Obviously. But the way he said it was so damn serious. As if he genuinely felt terrible that I had this fucking condition.

Amalia hadn't seen my dick. But she'd felt it so I figured she would know he was being an asshole. I fucking hoped so anyway.

"Drayton," mom slapped him in the chest, but even she was giggling.

I cleared my throat. "Did you guys have a good night last night?"

In an instant, the atmosphere changed. Both of their expressions became flat, like an animal trapped in headlights.

Mom made a choked noise in her throat and actually clutched her chest as if she was going to pass out. I felt triumphant for a moment until Dad burst out laughing.

He curled over and rested his hands on his knees. Amalia had gone still beside me and Mom looked as if she wanted to punch me in the face. But she didn't. She just turned on her heel and walked out of the kitchen.

Dad was still having a fucking fit but he straightened up and flipped me off as he backed out of the room with his loud obnoxious laugh.

"Lucas," Amalia dropped my hand and I turned to see her flushed complexion and disapproving scowl. "That was so awkward. Your poor Mom."

"Yeah," I winced, wandering over to the fridge. "To be honest I should have known Dad wouldn't give a fuck."

I could still hear his dumbass laugh from upstairs while I pushed the fridge contents around. Lettuce, cheese, eggs, milk, yoghurt, fruit, bacon.

There was a ton of stuff but no fucking bagels. We kept them in the fridge so I turned around and glanced over the countertop to see if Mom or Dad had them out before we came down.

My search turned up nothing apart from Amalia watching me with a small frown and a pinch in her brows.

"Mi Amor?" I closed the fridge and started rounding the island. She couldn't hide the surprise at hearing the Spanish term of endearment. "Yeah I've been reading up. Just for you."

"Stop it," she said as I stood in front of her. "Seriously. Stop. I really like you. All of you! But that was crossing a line. You can't talk about your parents like that in front of a total stranger. You have to filter some of the shit that goes through your head."

She was so fierce. Her short stature and small features were no hinderance on her bold deliverance.

I sighed and had to fight the urge to disregard the telling off. Honestly, if this was anyone else, I would have told her to mind her business.

But Amalia was too important and she wasn't going to put up with bullshit. I didn't want to lose her because I couldn't swallow my pride.

"I'm uh— I'm sorry," I said. I really didn't mean to make her uncomfortable. But Mom and Dad were the least of my concerns. Mom would recover. She'd been living with Dad for how long? She was used to it. "Honestly. I'll work on it. I'm sorry."

She watched me for a moment. Perhaps deliberating if I was being genuine or not. Her resolve started to slip and her smile lifted as I leaned in a little closer until she hit the wall behind her.

"Forgive me Mi Amor?" I rested a hand on the wall beside her.

"You can't say that to me," she peered up through her full lashes as I wound my finger in her ponytail. "We've known each other for one week Lucas. You can't call me your love."

"But it's like filtered," I argued. "Through Spanish. So it's not as blatant. I thought it was clever."

"I'm fluent in Spanish, Lucas," she laughed. "It's not filtered to me."

"I'm not enjoying this anymore than you are," I told her, dropping her soft hair and moving my hand to her waist. "See, the thing is, I'm pretty sure the Lady Of Holy Death, Santa Muerte, is doing some fine work between us because the way this thing-" I pointed at my heart- "beats whenever I'm with you, is concerning and is not something that I've experienced before."

She stared up at me with her mouth parted in surprise. "You really have been reading."

"Yeah I do that sometimes," I nodded with a modest shrug. "When I'm not beating off to your Instagram pictures."

Her shoulders slumped and she stared at me with what I would call mild disappointment.

"That was just a joke."

"No it wasn't."

"Na it wasn't," I admitted. "But for real. I am super—" I struggled for the right word— "infatuated. By you. Just you. It's more than physical. I promise."

"I know," she draped her arms over my shoulder. "You kind of proved that last night. I'm infatuated with you too."

My breath caught for a minute. I loved hearing that she returned the feelings. I loved how she chewed on her plump lip while she watched my mouth.

I loved how she was confident but still swallowed with a nervous expression as I leaned in and kissed her beautiful lips. She didn't let me slide my tongue between her teeth.

But she did lean into the soft kiss with enthusiasm before she pulled back and put some distance between us, looking at the door as if someone would walk in.

I sighed but didn't attempt to kiss her again. She was so polite and respectful. So fucking cute.

"Should we grab some breakfast when we go through town?" I suggested, tapping my pockets to be sure I had my keys before I laced our fingers together and pulled her into the foyer.

"Yeah that works for me," she said as I opened the front door and walked behind her, not dropping her hand. I loved holding it. It fit so well in mine. "You didn't post those pictures last night, right?"

"No?" We crossed the drive and I pressed the lock button on the remote control. "I told you I wouldn't—"

"Oh I was just double checking," she said. "I told Dad I was sleeping over at Ingrid's last night. I just didn't want him to find out I lied. I'm actually kind of nervous he'll see that TMZ video as well."

I winced as we separated and hopped in the Rover. She gave me a look of concern as she pulled the belt across her lap and I started the engine. "Yeah I mean, he might. But does he use social media much? Or?"

"Not a lot," she said. I turned the car around in the drive so I could head straight out. "I mean, he uses it for Gallery events and to sell his paintings. Plus to keep in contact with Familia back home. But otherwise, no."

"What about Bernie?" I asked. "Would she show him something if it came up?"

She was quiet for a moment. Her dark stare focused on the road in front of us. The golden streams of sunlight hit the windshield and heated up the dash.

I reached into the centre console while she deliberated her answer and slipped a pair of shades on so I wouldn't have to strain against the harsh sun for the entire drive.

"I hope not," she answered after a moment. "I mean, she's not a snitch. But she's easily wound up. She could do it on accident."

"Doesn't she have a phone?" I asked. "Text her?"

"She's just got an Instagram on that tablet," she said as she rolled her bum to the side and reached into the back pocket of her skirt. "I might send her a quick message on there."

While she did that, I set the radio station and cracked the windows for a bit of morning fresh air.

It was warm but did the trick and after Amalia set her phone down, I reached across the middle and held her hand for the rest of our drive.

Whoever said time had an impact on how you felt about someone, had never met the right girl. Because she had me bent out of shape so damn fast it was concerning.

We arrived at the parlour half n hour after we left home and stopped for some hash browns from McDonalds.

I snatched a spot right out front. Enormous windows on either side of a crisp black door allowed a view of the reception and waiting room which was vacant due to the parlour being closed.

PETE AND TYLER TATTOO's was scrawled in black link writing on either glass pane and when we went through to the reception, the familiar scent of incense wafted through the small space.

One single sofa sat in front of the window to the left. An arm chair beside it as well as a coffee table in front of those which was scattered with folders that were full of art.

The walls were corrugated iron with metal cut outs of urban art scattered in various places. A large wooden desk sat off to the right, the parlours name once again scrawled across the front of it in neat script font.

Then there was the wall beside the reception desk that housed a number of photos that had been taken of different public figures.

Amalia became fascinated at the collection and inspected them with her hands rested in her skirt pockets.

Her smile grew at the photo of Dad, Tyler, Pete and I in front of the store with fresh ink on the inside of our biceps. "You look a lot like him," she mentioned, her finger tips grazing the edge of the frame.

"Yeah," I stood beside her. "Mom tells Max and I the same thing all the time. She said she knew she was in trouble when we were a few weeks old."

She laughed and the sound of a curtain being opened came from behind us. We turned around to find Pete emerging with a broad grin.

His beard was a little shorter than it had been a couple of weeks ago and his shaved head was covered with a cap. "Lahey, brother. How's it going man?"

We clapped hands and I noticed the fresh ink on his neck.

"I'm running out of room bro. Need to find the space where I can."

"It looks good," I assured him. That wasn't a place that I wanted to get to. As much as I loved body art, I personally didn't want to have more ink than skin. "Oh, this is Amalia by the way."

She extended her hand which he shook with a kind smile. "Pete," he introduced himself.

"This is my future girlfriend," I added.

Pete gave a slow nod. "Not current?"

"Na. Only met her last Monday."

He laughed and I could see Amalia shaking her head from my peripheral.

He gestured for us to follow him and we walked through to one of the back rooms which were sterile and clean. The scent of antiseptic was potent. The bed in the middle of the room was set up with fresh hospital grade linen and modesty drapes.

The cart with the ink and machines was prepped and I leaned beside the bed with Amalia.

"So you're the artist," Pete asked Amalia. "Lucas gave me a little run down over the text. Do you have the picture?"

"Yeah I've got it on my phone," she slid it out and tapped her screen, scrolling until she handed it over to Pete.

He stared down at the screen and marvelled with approval. "You drew this?" He said, staring back up at her. She nodded with a humble smile. "It's so well done. You're talented."

"Thank you," she replied. "Dad's an artist. I suppose I get it from him."

"Have you ever done a tattoo before?"

She shook her head.

"You wanna give it a go?"

"Woah woah," I said. "Yeah I like this girl but I also want the tattoo to turn out well."

Pete put the phone down on his cart. "I was going to offer her stimulation skin and a needle to mess around with while I do this."

"Oh," I glanced at Amalia and shrugged with a sheepish grin. "That's cool."

"I would love that," Amalia said. I wouldn't be opposed to her tattooing me after a bit of practice. That would be hot.

He set her up on the bench at the edge of the room and told her to have at it while he got to work on the tri football piece that she'd designed for me.

Pete spent about two hours on the tattoo which I had inked on my pec. The same side as my heart. It seemed appropriate.

Amalia spent that entire two hours tattooing the stimulation skin. But when Pete announced he was done and I sat up on the bed, she set the needle down and walked towards us, smiling as her sights landed on my chest and she got to see her design, inked forever right over my heart.

She seemed pleased, more than pleased and I felt honoured I was able to be a part of that.

The tattoo was perfect. As usual. The three footballs linked in an over lapping triangle and Max, Lucas and Abby was scrawled on each one.

It was sentimental in more ways than one. What it represented was huge. But the fact that Amalia drew it, well that was its own sort of fucking awesome.

Pete gave me a new tube of tattoo tonic to keep it clean and moisturised and then we wandered over to have a look at Amalia's practice work.

She seemed reluctant and embarrassed to show us but I wasn't surprised when her drawings were almost perfect.

Pete commented on the fact that some of the shading needed work but he was genuinely impressed at how well she'd done for her first attempt.

The two of them talked for a while about art and the finer details about the best techniques for tattooing skin. He told her that she could come back with me if she wanted to practice some more.

Both of us were in good spirits when we left the parlour. She thanked me for taking her and made me promise that I would take her back again some time. I felt bummed when I had to drop her off at home. We shared a small kiss outside and I frowned until she disappeared inside.

When I got home, I pulled into the drive and hopped out of the car.

The first thing I noticed when I stepped inside, was Abby's shoes beside the hall table. I figured  I might as well find her and let her shout at me about Tanner's wheel for a while. It was going to happen and I'd rather get it out of the way.