Streetlights cast over the windshield as I drove across town in the middle of the night. Mike Shinoda came through the sound system and I mumbled along to the Blackbear collaboration- About You. 

Amalia lived about a half hour from me. The sidewalks were illuminated with the burnt yellow glow of street lamps and in the center of town, people were walking, gathered outside of establishments, talking, smoking. It was a usual Friday night.

Max would be en route to the airport. He had a flight on the jet to see his girlfriend for the weekend. Mom and Dad had attempted to talk me into driving him there. As if it was on the way and not in the entirely opposite direction. We'd argued about it for a while, I won and then that argument rolled into one about me using Dad's motorcycle for the night.

"Hell fucking no!" Dad had shouted. "You have a massive ass Range Rover in the garage. Drive that."

"Just let me use it. For a couple of hours."

"You're going to see a girl," he'd snorted. "You don't get cool points when you crash it and kill her dumbass."

"Why would I crash it?! I can drive a bike fine."

"Too bad. You don't have a license and I'm not being responsible for giving an unlicensed kid a motorcycle and letting him drive his girlfriend around on it. If something happens, that's on me. No chance."

"You used to let mom drive your bike when she didn't have a license."

"Why do I tell you kids stuff?"

"See."

"Yeah well I was an idiot. And she was too. Ya live and learn."

That had been the end of the conversation. Stubborn ass. I followed the GPS and ended up in a suburban neighborhood. Solar lights lined footpaths. Shutters bordered the windows. Rooftops peaked and wrap around porches held swing seats and rocking chairs.

I slowed the car in front of the address Amalia messaged me and glanced out of the window at the two story home. It was nice, well kept with neat gardens and enormous urns that were painted bright with intricate patterns in reds and greens lined the porch. I killed the engine and pulled my phone out of the handsfree case on the dash before I jumped out of the car.

Nerves kept a spring in my step as I slipped my phone into my pocket and walked up the front path. I could have sent her a text to let her know I was here. But that might have seemed rude if her Dad happened to peer out of his front window and seen me sitting around like a shmuck waiting for his daughter. The whole 'meeting the parent' ordeal was exaggerated in my opinion. People didn't need to put so much emphasis on it being some extreme milestone.

Besides, it wasn't like we'd be sitting down to have a meal and discuss the intentions that I had for his daughter. I pressed the doorbell and winced, well I hoped we wouldn't be. Even I didn't know what my intentions were right now. 

I had to turn a new leaf or she'd end up losing interest and looking for someone else who was capable of commitment. 

That meant no more flirting with Milly. Fuck. 

That would be a hard habit to break. 

The door opened and Amalia stood in front of me with her hair down in loose waves that curtained her toned arms. She wore a pair of shorts, a tight tank top and white canvas shoes. 

"You look so—" my sentence caught in my throat as a staunch man walked into sight. "Beautiful. You look beautiful," I finished with a quick nod.

Beautiful is a better compliment than 'so hot I have a hard on already.' 

Mom lectured Max and I all the time on the etiquette of how to talk to woman. I paid fuck all attention but I was digging up the ole chivalry folder before I put my foot in it. Amalia subtly rolled her eyes as the silver bearded man began to gesture me inside.

He ran his words off in Spanish as he closed the front door. "quien es este chico?"

Amalia sighed and ran her hands through her hair while I assessed the shoulders on this dude. He was covered in splatters of paint, his apron over slacks and a ratted t-shirt didn't hide his build. He looked to be in his fifties but he looked like he could left right goodnight the fuck out of me.

"El es Lucas, papá. Te hable de el."

"No mija," he shook his head. "You didn't."

His accent was thicker than hers. I stared at some art on the foyer walls while I pretended not to listen. Not that I had a clue what the fuck either of them were saying. The colours were vibrant against the cream wall paper and the scent of paint chemicals wafted through the air. I remembered that she told me he was an artist. He was talented from the look of the canvases hanging.

"You just don't listen papá," she chided with exasperation. "deja de hablar de él y preséntate"

He sighed and turned on his heel. Even his burkenstocks were splashed with drops of paint. He held out a hand and gave me a tired smile. "Hola Lucas," I shook his hand. "I'm Elías."

"It's good to meet you, sir. You have a nice home."

He rolled his eyes towards his daughter with amusement. "Lameculos"

"Papá!"

"Relax. It's a joke," he sighed.

He extended his arm and gestured that I follow him into the living room. Amalia gave me an apologetic smile but I shrugged. It was no big deal. 

I had no right to be concerned about meeting her father when she had yet to meet mine. There was a good chance I would put that off for a while. Fucking Dad would embarrass the hell out of me. Bet.

The living room was an organized mess. It was obvious Elías knew what was going on. There were easels standing in front of the windows. About three of them. Paints covered a long thin table. Dozens of brushes with colorful tips were scattered. 

Framed paintings of little Spanish villages and sights were hanging around the room. 'Sunsets in Barcelona' was scrawled across the front of a large painting which included crowded buildings with an enormous orange sunset illuminating the entire image.

I felt like I would get light headed if I was in here for too long. The fumes were insane.

"What are you kids up to tonight?" Elías asked as he sat down on a paint splattered sofa on the other side of the room. The cushions looked soft and Elías sunk into it. Clearly the couch had been around for some time. But it was one that had kept its comfort and would last forever.

Amalia stood beside me and I subtly inhaled. She was intoxicating. Sweet and fruit scented with a hint of spice. She smiled and slipped her hands into the back pocket of her shorts. "We're going to the movies."

That was news to me. Not that it mattered what we did. If she wanted to see a movie then that was what we'd do.

Her father rubbed his chin as he watched me. "Do you have a license, Lucas?"

"Yeah of course sir."

He nodded. This was feeling more formal than I had been prepared for. I figured that I'd just introduce myself and be off again. Now I felt as if we were going on a date. Perhaps this was more convenient for Amalia though. She probably didn't want to tell her Dad she was just off to hang out on the casual. He might have made the wrong assumption.

"I like these paintings sir," I said, pointing at the artwork. "You're talen—"

"OH DIOS MÍO!"

I turned around to a high pitch squeal and saw a small girl who looked like a miniature Amalia with lighter hair and a mild overbite. She was holding a tablet out in front of her as she stared with her mouth hanging open.

She began to bounce up and down, screeching as she turned the tablet around and aimed it at me. "Lucas Lahey está en mi casa. No puedo creer esto. Mira, es realmente él!"

There was another girl on the tablet screen. Or I think it was. It was sort of hard to tell as she ran around the room with so much speed I felt light headed just watching her.

Elías stood up. "Bernie."

The girl paused her sprint but continued to bounce up and down. "It's him! I have to go. Adiós!" She tapped the tablet screen and threw it haphazardly on to the couch before she skipped towards us.

"Chill," Amalia sighed.

"Ah," she squealed through a clenched jaw. Her entire tiny frame was practically buzzing and I watched her with amusement. "I'm Bernie. I love you."

I winked. "Nice to meet you."

"Am I missing something here?" Elías asked, looking between us.

"Papá," Amalia laughed, her hand resting on my shoulder. "Lucas is Drayton and Dallas Lahey's son."

The blank stare remained.

"Drayton Lahey was the Dallas cowboys quarterback. Now he's the coach and his wife is a famous dancer."

Blank.

"Lucas is like famo— ugh never mind. We're going to leave."

"Alright," he nodded, subtly giving me a once over as he sauntered out of the room. His attention turned back to Amalia. "Be safe. Call me. Home at one."

"Yes Papá."

"Wait," Bernie latched her small hand around my wrist before Amalia could lead us out of the house. She stared up with flushed cheeks and a pleading expression. "Can you please take a photo with me!"

"Yeah, for sure," I nodded and she squealed, dashing over to retrieve her tablet. I straightened up and smiled at Amalia. "You've never asked for a photo with me."

She laughed. "In the nicest possible way, I don't care enough."

She was genuine. It was a nice change of pace to realize she was spending time with me for me. Rather than the chance to meet my parents or up their Instagram following or become friends with Abby.

Bernie pushed the tablet into her hands. "Can you please take a picture," she came and stood beside me so I crouched down a little lower and draped an arm across her small shoulder. She inhaled a sharp breath. "él huele hermoso."

Amalia gave her a bewildered look over the top of the device. "no seas rara Berns."

I needed to switch to Spanish at school, ASAP.

Bernie seemed grateful for the impromptu photo shoot. She continued to gush and fawn right up until the moment we shut the front door behind us. It happened often enough. 

My social media presence was big. Having famous parents just sort of pushed us into the spotlight. Abby said it was unfair because she was actually doing something with her career. I just posted a beach pic or a warm up video and it was reposted thousands of times and more often than not, used in some entertainment article. 

Mom said it was because girls made up a large portion of fandom culture and girls loved a hot bod. Her words, not mine.

Max didn't use his social media all that much. He was indifferent and he rarely posted shirtless photos unless I could talk him into a twin shot poolside or at the gym. Those ones were particularly popular.

"I am so sorry about that," Amalia blushed, cupping her cheeks with both hands as we pulled off from the curb. "Like I warned, Bernie is a fan."

"It's fine," I laughed. "She's energetic huh?"

She nodded. "Insane. Is it weird? Like, to have all these people lose their minds over your existence?"

"I guess I'm sort of used to it at this point. That's being genuine and not arrogant," I laughed. "This is how it's been since I was a kid. I mean, my birth was a headline. I don't know different."

"True. If we get photographed together, am I going to end up online?"

I winced. I didn't want to lie. But I hoped she still wanted to spend time together. "Yeah. But don't stress. It doesn't happen all the time."

She laughed and stared straight out at the road in front of us. She was so beautiful. I really wouldn't mind being seen with her. Who wouldn't want to boast about having the attention of such a drop dead gorgeous babe. But if she wasn't interested in being photographed or talked about online, then I would do what I could to prevent that from happening.

Social media could be ruthless. I mean, she was literally too perfect to pick apart. But the vultures online would find something. Even if it wasn't there.

"So what movie are we going to see?" I questioned. I flicked on the indicators and rounded the block so that we ended up closer to the cinema.

"Oh, I just said that so I had a reason to leave for the evening."

"So what should we do then?" I passed the cinema and glanced out at the crowded side walk. A few of the cheerleaders from school were at the ticket stand and beside them, tall and impossible to miss were a couple of boys from the team.

Quiet disappointment coursed through me at the fact I couldn't show off. 

"I thought you had the plan?" She laughed.

"You suggested we should hang out."

"Well— I don't know," she leaned forward and rested her hands on the dash. I could feel her watching me. "Don't you have a place. Somewhere you like to hang out?"

"No," I scoffed. "Well, I do know a few quiet spots around town. But I can't guarantee they'll be free. Other people use them as well."

"We could go and get ice cream?"

"We could go and make out?"

She burst out laughing and I did another lap of the block. Really, I had no issue driving around in circles while we talked. She had a beautiful voice. A beautiful laugh. I could listen to her for hours without getting bored. I'd fill the tank and drive until the sun set if she wanted.

"Points for being up front," I could hear the smile in her voice. 

"Sorry," I ran a hand through my hair. "Too soon?"

"Well I mean—"

"It bothers you, right?" I turned my head to her for a quick moment. "My reputation. You don't seem to judge but—"

"I don't judge," she assured with a sincere tone. "But I don't generally get involved with guys who I know can't manage one woman at a time. It's nothing personal. I just don't want to get hurt. Ya know? Been there, done that."

"Oh I can do that," I nodded, giving her a side on glance and attempting to wear a convincing smile. "Like if you prefer we don't see other people while we get to know each other."

"Really?" Her brows furrowed with a small smile.

"Yeah," I swung into a parking space outside of an ice cream parlor Mom used to bring us to all the time. Amalia read the neon sign that illuminated her freckled face. "We should hang out, a lot. Get to know each other. You can realize that I'm a one woman man from now on."

She watched me, her gaze not wavering as she undid her seatbelt. She didn't seem convinced. But that was the point of spending time together. So that I could prove that I was worth her attention. It was reasonable that she didn't want to get hurt. That would mean she might keep her guard up. But that was alright, as long as I got to have her around.

"Am I going to regret this?" She tilted her head to the side. "Am I going to end up super deep in the feels and then see you and some girl photographed together, crushing my heart and proving me right that once a fuckboy, always a fuckboy?"

"Damn," I recoiled and imagined her upset for a split second. "I hope not. For real. I really, really like you. It's screwing with me a little. I actually had to ask my parents for advice about it."

She threw her head back with a melodic laughter that warmed me all over. "You're new to feelings?"

"I'm new to feelings that exist in more places than just my dick. Yeah."

She covered her face with her hands and sighed. "We need to work on that mouth," she mumbled. "But you know what, with honesty like that, what do I have to be concerned about?"

"Exactly," I threw my arms open wide. "You'll never be left wondering what the go is. I swear."

"Promise you'll tell me when you're bored and want to move on?"

Right now, I couldn't imagine that moment coming. But I nodded and grinned. "I promise."

She smiled. Shadow engulfed half of her gorgeous face. The other half glowed pink from the italic neon sign that read 'Callie's Creamery.' I hit the jack pot finding her. She was. . . she was breathtaking. The closest thing that I'd had to wanting a girlfriend before had been Jorjia when I was fifteen. She was friends with Abby before she moved out of state. I had a crush on her. She was the girl I'd had my first time with.

She was fierce and strong willed. She loved to listen to old school rock and roll. Her dress sense was too mature for her age and now that I look back, I believe she had some part in Abby's sudden desire to grow up. Her wardrobe consisted of tight dresses, over sized hoodies and short skirts. She didn't respond well to authority or being told what to do but she was so charming, that it was almost impossible to see her as trouble because she knew how to be so sweet.

We had sex a few times. Alright— it was a lot — but it was fleeting and fast. We were both young and what seemed earth shattering at the time, was embarrassing to even remember. 

I had no idea what the fuck I was doing. But I thought her and I should be official. I wanted her to be my girlfriend, I asked her and she said no. She said she couldn't be tied down. She couldn't stand answering to someone. It hurt. But I've moved on, I'm fine, I'm free and I'm ready to do this thing.

I gripped the car door handle and smiled. "Ice cream?"