Everlong

| Nineteen: Ellie |

Kilometres: wud

Me: watching a speedpaint. u?

Kilometres: bored. wanna come over ?

Me: sure

Kilometres: be there in fifteen min

My eyes darted to the time on my phone. Mum and Jared wouldn't be back till much later, and Charlie was planning on studying for most of the morning. I could study later tonight; it was only Saturday.

I rolled off my bed and pulled on a clean shirt, and a pair of jeans with painted handprints all down the legs. I threw up my hair in a rough bun and headed downstairs to wait on the porch.

Miles pulled up not long later, and I ran over to jump into the Rodeo, grinning at him.

"Hello," he greeted before pulling away from the curb.

"Hello," I responded. "Was revising not enough to keep you entertained?"

He grimaced. "I'm not in the mood for discussing why Damascus is or isn't suitable for certain projects. I figured spending some time with you wouldn't be a terrible alternative."

"Naturally," I agreed. "Is your dad home?"

He nodded. "Yeah, he's polishing his pool gear. Some mates are coming over tonight to watch the footy and play."

"Will he mind me coming over?"

He made a face. "No. He's been wanting to meet you, actually. He's interested in your art."

"My art?" I didn't know anyone outside my family who cared about my art.

"You're good, sweetheart." Miles shrugged. "He knows talent when he sees it."

We pulled up to his house. It was quite large, but it didn't have the cold look Jared's did. Miles' house had a mulberry bush out the front. A two-tire dirt track led around the back. A few half-dead potted plants lined the front porch.

It was a home.

We got out after Miles parked on the dirt track. His hand slipped readily into mine as we entered the house and toed off our shoes. A small hall led us into the living room. A distinguished-looking man lounged in front of the TV.

"Ah, Miss Knightly," Miles' dad greeted, rising to stand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Good to meet you too, Mr Cortez." I accepted his handshake.

"Ah, please – call me Juan."

"Juan," I corrected with a smile. "Please call me Ellie."

He smiled warmly. "I hope you don't mind if I join you for lunch? I was thinking I could make some pulled pork sandwiches, if you were interested?"

"Yeah, thanks dad," Miles said.

"That would be great, Juan, thank you."

He nodded and smiled. "Well, don't let me keep you. I'll let you know when it's ready."

Miles pulled me along, weaving easily through the house towards the backdoor. He leaned closer to me to mutter, "You were so formal."

"He's your dad! What was I meant to say? 'Sup Juan, how's the footy'?"

He chuckled, pushing open the backdoor. "Definitely not. He wouldn't have let you back if you had."

"Exactly."

A calico cat sitting on the fence watched us. We were walking towards a small shed that connected to the dirt track around the side. Small, dusty windows lined the top of the walls.