The Little House of Paints

Chapter 13

I barely slept last night because even after having a very nice dinner with my dad, I couldn't shake Teagan and I's conversation. On paper Miller seems great. He's successful, I've known him for years, is driven, but there is this nagging voice in my brain telling me that something is wrong. Maybe it is the fact that my dad doesn't like him. Carrington Adams, as I have been told multiple times, is never wrong after all.

After rolling out of bed, I pop my head into the kitchen to tell my dad that I'm going on a run. I used to run all the time back in high school, but since moving it has kind of fallen out of habit. I'm not gonna lie, usually my running schedule correlates with how stressed I am. The more stressed, the more and usually longer the runs. Call me a psycho, but running is one of the only things that helps me clear my mind.

Before leaving, my dad, who is enjoying a cup of coffee in the kitchen, makes me promise to come see him at the store when I am done. Since that had already been my plan, I don't argue. Instead, taking a pair of house keys with me, so I can shower when I get back, I walk out of the door.

Since the last warmest days are finally over, I'm a little more layered than I would prefer, but better warm than cold. I'd rather shed a layer than not have enough. With my hoodie and sweats on top of my leggings and long sleeve, I descend onto the streets of our quiet suburban neighborhood.

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A good playlist can be the solution to any problem. Or in my case the solution to avoiding any problem. My running playlist, which I have carefully constructed over the last five years, is about halfway through when I realize that running today though liberating was probably a bad idea. It is way colder than I anticipated and instead of wanting to take a layer off, I'm wanting to put one on. My skin is slicked with sweat, so because of the cool breeze, I feel as though I am a wet cat stuck outside in the snow.

I'm about to turn around to start heading home when I see a figure approaching from my peripheral vision. I'm not one to like being interrupted during a workout. You can talk to me the other ninety-nine percent of my day and I will probably be able to have a nice conversation with you. However, during the one percent of the time that I am working out, leave me alone. Is it that much to ask? Can't a girl get out some anger by working herself to exhaustion before being thrown back into society to function properly in a social setting?

I am to start walking away when I see that it is Levi Daniels, aka Miller's best friend in high school. Immediately reminded of the mission set for me by Teagan, I realize that this might be the perfect opportunity for me to squash my fears about Miller. So instead of sprinting off the other way, which I desperately wish to, I wave at him.

In the time that it takes Levi to get to me, I take in what he is wearing. He also is dressed what I assume is running clothes: a pair of sweat shorts and a hoodie. What is it with men that no matter how freakin cold it is outside they are always 'hot'? Unless you are always running the temperature of the inside of a volcano, you have to get cold sometimes. He just like Miller seems to not have given up on his physique. He is a little slimmer than his friend, but just as in shape.

In the time since I have last seen Levi, he must have shaved his signature Afro into a buzz cut because it is still in the process of regrowing. I remember his hair was the envy of about half of the female population at school. They would be devastated to know he cut it.

Maybe its shorter length is an indication that he actually went through with his plan of going to the military. Or maybe he just got a haircut.

When he finally arrives in front of me and reaches out one of his dark hands, I prepare myself for a handshake. Instead, he pulls me into a bro hug. It is a little awkward at first but I manage to recover.