After my encounter with George, I stayed in the kitchen and scrolled through my social media, I don't see much since I only have a few friends on my accounts, mostly people I never met. Internet friends are the best, I like talking and having friends on the internet than in real life.
Sometimes it just feels better, feels different.
It's like, you can be yourself around them without being judged.
Or maybe I'm just really in the wrong environment, to begin with.
My phone vibrated which snapped me out of my thoughts. It was a text from Ezra.
Ezzy
Yo, I'm already in front of the address you gave me, I'm not actually sure if I went to the right place, come out bitch
I was a bit surprised when Ezra chatted that he's already outside. I sprinted my way to the door and peeked, there he is, standing like a lost child in front of the gate of the house.
"Ezra," I called out, he turned his head in my direction and waved his arms. "That's fast."
"I went here immediately after I finished some household chores." He chuckled.
He followed me as we went inside the big ass house of the Millers.
"Wow, do you live here?" Ezra said in awe as he stepped inside the Millers' house. It's also kind of funny since his last name is Miller as well.
"No, you dumb dumb," I laughed, hitting him on the shoulder. "You know where I live."
"I was obviously kidding," he defended himself. "well, kinda not."
"Dumb hoe," I laughed. "let's say I'm a housekeeper."
"We love a hardworking queen, part time job things." he said in a funny accent which cracked me up. "This house is really fucken lit though." He said, looking around the place.
"Man, I love the paintings." He said stopping at the corridor to adore the paintings on the wall.
"Me too." I sighed. "Will never get tired looking at them."
I've been what, 10 days in this house and I still don't know who did the paintings.
Maybe it's-
"I did the paintings." George's voice boomed in the corridor that frightened both Ezra and me.
Ezra and I snapped our heads in the direction of the voice, which is from the living room, George is peeking from there.
"Who is he?" They both said simultaneously, both looking at me. I glanced from Ezra to George.
"Ezra, George. George, Ezra." I said with hand gestures as I introduced them to each other.
"Who is he though?" George asked again, his eyebrow-raising. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning to the door frame.
"Hey, buddy." He sent a nod to Ezra, who's really bamboozled at the moment.
"He's my best friend." I grinned. "And guess what, his last name is Miller too," I added, wiggling my eyebrows at George and his mouth formed a perfect shape o, after that he just disappeared from our sight. We're still standing in the corridor.
"He's a Miller too?" Ezra whispered to me when George left.
"Yeah, cool right?" I turned to him, looking up at him. Ezra is 5'11 and I'm only 5'4, damn these tall dudes. I think George is around 5'8 though, still a tall guy for a small girl like me.
"Wait, so, he's here, why are you still here?" Ezra raised his eyebrow at me. "I mean, he looks like he's 20, so like, he can handle the stuff here?"
"His mom just prefers someone else around, I guess." I lied, I think George's story is not for me to tell.
It's clearly none of my business. So let's keep it at that.
"Welp, understandable, my mom doesn't even trust me with the house." Ezra laughed. "But, really you can do anything you want here?"
"As long as I'm not breaking anything or stealing anything, I guess, yeah," I replied, going to the kitchen, Ezra tailing me.
"So like, we can eat here?" He said excitedly.
This dude probably didn't take his breakfast.
I checked the food in the microwave, yes, I store food there, and luckily, there's still some pancakes.
"There's still some pancakes cooked by yours truly." I offered, pulling out the leftover pancakes, Ezra is lucky.
"Shitty pancakes by Freya." He dissed and I rolled my eyes.
"Don't eat it then,"
"I'm kidding! My gosh." Ezra chuckled. "Chill, cupcake." He patted my head from across the counter and I blew some strand of hair on my face.
"You're calling me names again." I pouted. "I'm a cupcake now huh."
"I take it back I might as well call you pancake since I'm eating pancakes you made." He said, taking a bite of the food. "Ah fuck, this tastes good."
"You're just hungry, my dude." I playfully punched his shoulder.
"Hmm, I don't think so. It's a fact that you're good in the kitchen." He shrugged. I was about to speak but he cut me off. "Ah ah, before you say anything just accept the damn compliment, pancake."
"Fine." I sighed, taking a sip of my already cold cocoa from earlier as well.
"Gimme some of that too!" Ezra whined but also welcomed himself to sip on my own cup.
"Already feeling at home, asswipe?" I said sarcastically. I grabbed the book I was reading and making my way to finding a comfortable place for me on the couch.
"Duh, I'm a Miller." Ezra winked.
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anyways about the painting im actually not sure if george paints or not but lets make him an all around artist in this story HAAHAHAHAHA
please send votes AAAAAAAA that would be gr8
i love you, thank you for reading this, I just do this out of boredom, and I really miss writing honestly,
also online school sucks
