Diamonds Cutting The Rain [Part Three]

Waking up in my old room, which had changed dirastically since I had been there last, I rolled over in my bed. Remembering that there was a John in the house, I quickly got changed and did my hair. I'll admit it, I was wearing a really cute outfit. It was still early in the morning, in fact it was around seven. My parents were a sleep-in-until-eight kind of couple. They didn't like to rush things in the morning. But I was so not like that. I made my way down into the kitchen, and sighed. It was still dark, so I flicked on the light switch.

"Morning," a voice came. Okay, I'll admit it, I almost screamed bloody murder. But instead, I jumped back, hit the edge of the wall and fell to the floor. Gasping for air, I looked up to see John standing there, in his boxers, looking quite amused.

"What on Earth was that?" I asked, because I'd figured, no light on, no people. But whatever, here I was sitting on my butt with my heart racing so fast, I didn't know what to do.

"Sorry, I normally eat my breakfast in the dark, habit, really," John said, smiling. That's when I noticed he had a bowl of cereal in his hands. He set it on the counter and turned back to me, holding out his hand. I scoffed, because I was shaking so bad, and then I stood up on my own. His eyes flickered with amusement. I was already in a bad mood. Morning scares don't do well with me.

"Whatever, freak," I snapped, then a grin came to my lips. I couldn't help it. It was like I was fifteen all over again. I looked at him and said, "Sorry, being at home immediately tosses me back into the teenage years."

He laughed and said, softly, grabbing his bowl, "Well, that's alright. Sometimes you can afford to be childish. Sometimes, you need to be."

"What do you mean?" I asked, curiously.

"Nevermind," he said with a shrug, "So, what's on the schedule for today?"

"Well," I said, thinking. I hadn't thought about what I should do. Sighing, I asked, "What's on your schedule?"

"Forward, aren't we?" he asked, with a grin. I shot him a look and he said, "Nothing much, probably going to hang out at the lake."

"I see," I said, not really caring, "Why are you living with my parents? I mean, seriously. I know, now, that they needed the extra cash...but why'd you move in to begin with?"

He didn't look mildly uncomfortable, he just said, "Well, it was only supposed to be temporary, until my art gallery was finished. And once it was, I just didn't want to leave. I don't know, you're parents have created the only place I can say I'm at home. Don't get me wrong. I do help out and everything, but your mom and dad, they make it...I don't know what I'm saying."

I smiled and said, "Thanks, I guess they need you. I didn't really realize it. I mean, I...I'd like to see your art gallery."

His eyes seemed to light up at this, "Really? Amy and Frank said you wouldn't be into that. They talked about you...a lot."

"Really?" I asked, suddenly feeling a twinge of guilt.

"Really, really." he said, as if he was a kid. I laughed. He added, because silence was becoming awkward, "Why'd you come back?"

I thought about this. I could've said many different things, told ten million different reasons. So why I said what I said, I'm not sure. But I said, my voice soft and I wasn't even sure he heard me to begin with, "I needed to feel safe."

"From what?" he asked, matching my soft voice. I looked up at him, thinking about what I needed to feel safe from. I wasn't sure, exactly.

But I said, "My life."

At that, we didn't talk the rest of the hour we sat across from each other. And the thing was? It wasn't awkward silence anymore. It was comfortable, and relaxing. I made some coffee and asked John, "Want some?"

"Sure," he said, smiling. And that was the extent of our conversation. Funny how things go, because as I sat down, handing him his coffee, I finally felt normal. Comfortable. I wasn't comfortable at home. Being with the prince didn't make me comfortable. It made me feel awkward and unsure. Sam and I had a pattern, sure, except even though I was totally comfortable with it, I was getting uncomfortable. I didn't know how to explain it.

Around eight, like it used to be, Amy and Frank got up about the same time. Amy walked out first and said, cheerfully, "Morning."

"Hey, Mom," I said, without looking up from my book. And that's when it hit me. I called her 'mom' without even thinking about it. At this, she beamed at me.

"What are you two up to, today?" Amy asked, pouring herself some probably cold coffee.

I noted that she made it sound like we were a couple. I said, smiling, "Probably call Sam and tell him I'll be here all weekend. Then, John's going to take me down to his Art Gallery."

"Oh," Amy said, "you're going to love his gallery. It's so awesome!"

I've never seen Amy get happy about anything like art galleries, but she immediately dove right into everything that John had there. When Frank came out, he started to explain how it was great too. I noticed that John was blushing, and looking away. I smiled and listened.

Later that morning, I picked up the phone, and dialed Sam's number. But before it hit the first ring, I hung up. I didn't know what I was doing. I couldn't call Sam up and tell him that I was at home. He'd positivly freak out.

After an hour, John asked me if I was ready to go. Getting up, grabbing my purse and slipping on my shoes, I told him I was. We got into his truck, which I totally fell in love with. Smiling, I said, "Thanks for this."

"No problem," he said, with a wave of his hand.