After drinking our milkshakes and paying for breakfast, Diane and I talked for several minutes inside the restaurant until we finally left, saying goodbye to Sam. "So, we can go to the movies, mini-golf, bowling, my siblings love this place the arcade—it's a store with dozens of machines to win prizes" slightly excited I listed. "What sounds more interesting?" Noticing a slightly amused expression on Diane's face, easing my excitement I asked as we walked to my car.
"Could we just drive?, like before," Diane asked softly as she got into the car and adjusted her seatbelt.
"Of course," I said, starting the car and smiling at the girl in the passenger seat.
The rest of the day in general wasn't great for the environment, but after driving around most of Medford for a couple of hours with Diane, she began singing the songs, at first just murmuring, but after listening to them a couple of times she actually started singing them. Diane only needed to hear them once to memorize them completely.
"My legs hurt," Diane said after singing through one of the albums, now apparently her favorite, for the second time.
"Yeah, mine too," I quickly replied, laughing. By then, my rear was already feeling pretty uncomfortable. "We should stretch our legs out." We weren't far from a park.
"Stretch our legs out," Diane said, mimicking me with a huff.
"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It's not always there, but sometimes you have a Texan accent," Diane said, covering her smile with the side of her hand.
"No, I don't," I quickly replied, feeling oddly self-conscious about how I spoke.
"Yes, not as thick as the one Hank tries to do, or like the Coopers, but now and then, after laughing or when you talk quickly, I can hear it," Diane explained, lightly biting her lip as she smiled.
"Well, I've been living here long enough, and everyone has a thick Texan accent. It's not strange for some phrases to rub off on me," I said quickly, feeling the need to explain myself.
"Oh it's not a bad thing," Diane quickly murmured with a small smile.
"Well, your Boston accent isn't a bad thing either," I declared mischievously, smiling as I saw Diane's immediate reaction of surprise.
"I don't have an accent," Diane said quickly, denying it. Admittedly, she didn't really have an accent—it was strange hearing neutral English, almost like Sheldon, but less… robotic?.
"Maybe not, but what about the English accent? 'Woh'uh,'" I added with an exaggerated English accent, smiling.
"I've never said the word 'water' in front of you—I remember," Diane triumphantly declared, placing her still incredibly cold hand on my arm. It was really strange that Diane's body didn't regulate temperature in a typical way. "You can't lie to me when it comes to remembering things," Diane murmured, quickly removing her hand.
"True," I exclaimed with exaggerated defeat, lowering my head. "I forgot about that part," I admitted, smiling at Diane.
"Well… I didn't," Diane declared, seemingly trying her hardest not to smile, tilting her head.
"Oh, so now we're being arrogant, huh?" I asked sarcastically.
"No, I'm not," Diane immediately said defensively, furrowing her brow.
"Oh, I know. I was just joking," I said quickly, worried because, like Sheldon, Diane sometimes struggled to recognize sarcasm, trying to explain myself.
With a completely serious face, Diane remained silent for a couple of seconds. Then, slowly, she began to smile, clearly amused.
"You really got me there," I said, impressed by Diane's ability to hide a 'lie' to me, even a small one, at least for a second then my smile disappeared—I'd heard my own accent.
"There!" Diane exclaimed excitedly, pointing at my face. "Told you."
A couple of minutes later, we arrived at the park, where I parked my car.
At the park, we spent hours walking and chatting peacefully, really losing track of time. Diane talked excitedly about her job and Dr. Shankland in math, while I gave her an overview of a couple of cases at the hospital and the article by Dr. Thomas.
At some point—I wasn't really sure how much time had passed—I noticed how much the number of people in the park had decreased. "Wow, look at that—it's late," I said, surprised as I checked my watch.
"What?" Diane exclaimed, grabbing my arm tightly to check my watch. "We need to hurry," she said, pulling my arm and running along the park path toward my car.
"Why? What's happening?" I asked amused by the pace at which Diane was 'running', I was simply walking at the same speed as Diane 'ran'.
"I was supposed to be back ten minutes ago for a long distance call with Dr. Shankland," Diane explained.
"Then let's move. I don't think your mom likes me very much, and if you're late now, I don't want her to hate me," I joked, helping Diane pick up the pace by taking her hand.
"Oh, she definitely doesn't like you," Diane declared shamelessly, her voice breathless from the physical effort.
"No way, really?" I asked ironically.
"Stop talking—you need to be faster," Diane said anxiously, almost out of breath after a few more seconds.
"I'm not even trying," I said, amused at Diane's flushed face. Clearly, she wasn't used to physical exertion, but I kept pulling her hand even though I was only walking 'quickly'.
"Well, you really should try," Diane said irritated raising her voice as she stopped to catch her breath, having barely moved a yard or so.
Seeing Diane genuinely upset was something new and quite interesting.
"I'm sorry, Diane, but if I really tried, I'd probably have time to take a nap in the car before you arrive," I said sarcastically, curious to see more of Diane's new reaction.
"There's no need to be rude," Diane said, letting go of my hand, reminding me we were still holding them, she frowned.
I may have taken it too far. It was one thing for her to be upset generally, but it was another thing she being upset specifically with me.
"I don't know, do you want me to carry you?" without really anything to do I asked, joking lightly as Diane recovered her breath with both hands on her knees.
"Oh, yeah, that would really work," Diane said excitedly, raising her head and opening her eyes wide. "Obviously, you're physically superior to me. I weigh about 150 pounds, or 68 kilos—can you carry that weight?" she asked, looking me straight in the eyes.
I was only joking, but how could I say no now?
"Yeah, of course I can," I quickly nodded, stepping forward and bending my knees. "Hop on," I said, exaggerating a Texan accent as I prepared to lift Diane.
The day was like any other mid-April day in Texas. The temperature was warm and extremely pleasant, but despite that, Diane, who was wearing yet another sweater almost identical to the one she'd worn the day before, had her legs and hands completely cold.
"Ready?" I asked, trying to ignore Diane's still-labored breathing next to my ear, also trying to calm my accelerated pulse.
"Yes," Diane murmured into my ear, her voice barely audible and obviously embarrassed.
With Diane on my back, I started to jog, picking up the pace once I was sure I had a good grip on the lightweight girl.
"Am I too heavy?" Diane asked as I jogged at a decent speed.
"No, not at all I'd say about a hundred and fifty pounds, or sixty-eight kilos, so I barely notice you're there," I replied. And honestly, it was true. I was pretty sure the punching bag we used at the gym to practice ground and pound was heavier than her, and I could easily use that bag as weight for squats.
Even though we had walked for a long time in the park, we hadn't actually covered much distance—at least not by my usual running standards—so in less than a third of an hour, I arrived slightly winded, with a light sheen of sweat, at my car.
"Come on," Diane said, perfectly composed as she walked quickly to the passenger side.
Taking a deep breath, I exhaled loudly and hurried to unlock the car.
"Please, hurry," Diane pleaded nervously once we were both in the car with our seat belts fastened, her eyes fixed on mine.
Without saying anything, I started the car and drove quickly out of the park. For the first time since I had gotten "Debbie," I broke the speed limit—by a lot.
Fortunately, for our safety and that of others, the road to the ranch Diane's family was renting was practically deserted, and before long, we arrived at the beautiful villa.
Dr. Adler, with a look of disapproval on her face, stood on the porch with her arms crossed, watching us intently as we approached.
"I really don't think your mom likes me," I murmured to Diane, feeling Dr. Adler's piercing gaze fixed on me.
"Oh, definitely," Diane responded immediately, unbuckling her seatbelt without missing a beat. "She didn't like you before, so there's no problem."
"You're completely right," I said sarcastically to no one, as Diane stepped out of the car. A second later, I followed her out.
"I'm sorry, Mom," Diane said softly, walking slowly toward the beautiful villa and lightly biting her lip.
"You need to apologize to Shankland, not me," Mrs. Adler said sternly, momentarily shifting her annoyed gaze from me to Diane.
"Dr. Adler, this isn't Diane's fault. I lost track of time," I said, walking alongside Diane toward the house, trying to keep her out of trouble.
"Yes, I know," Dr. Adler replied instantly, turning her deeply furrowed brow back toward me.
All right, that was really easy…?
"Go inside, Diane," Dr. Adler commanded as she turned toward the house, clearly unwilling to speak to me further.
"Yes, Mom," Diane said seriously, nodding with her head down.
Dr. Adler shook her head slightly as she stepped inside, shutting the door firmly behind her.
"'Woh'uh,'" I said, mimicking Dr. Adler's accent loud enough for Diane to hear, trying to stifle a laugh. Diane immediately turned toward me, her eyes comically wide behind her glasses.
"She could hear you," Diane said, her cold hand once again gripping my arm with a tone of concern as she glanced nervously at the closed door. Despite her worried voice, I could see her fighting back a small smile.
"I don't think she could hate me much more than she already does," I joked. "Although... this is Texas, so I'm pretty sure there's at least one gun inside that house," I muttered, causing Diane to widen her eyes nervously and press my arm harder.
"I'm kidding," I assured her halfway, holding her hand. I was almost certain there was a gun inside that house, but I doubted Dr. Adler would shoot me.
Diane nodded, gazing at me intently, her grip on my arm gentle yet firm. Once again, as when I first met her in Sheldon's room, she seemed to glow in the light that illuminated her face, brightening her eyes and highlighting her blonde hair.
Diane and I stood in comfortable silence for what felt like a while until, "Diane, look what I found!" a boy no older than twelve suddenly exclaimed from the side of the house, walking toward us excitedly. In his hands, he calmly held the skull of what appeared to be a calf, judging by its size. "So cool, right?"
"Don't touch that, Frank. It's dirty," Diane said, stepping away from her brother—and consequently, from me—clearly surprised.
"It's just bone," Frank said mischievously, grinning.
"It's not just a bone. It's several bones connected by immovable joints," Diane quickly corrected. "Please put that down," she added a moment later.
Shrugging slightly, the boy dropped the skull to the ground. "Who are you?" he asked me casually after discarding the skull, entirely unfazed.
"I'm PJ. What's up, bud?" I said, smiling as I introduced myself.
"Oh," Frank murmured, smiling mischievously at his sister before continuing. "I'm Frank. Is that your car?" he asked, completely informal.
"Yeah, you like it?" I asked, nodding toward him.
"Yeah, it's cool," Frank replied, nodding. "Does Mom know you're here? She was pretty mad," he asked Diane, seamlessly shifting topics once again.
"Oh, I got to go," Diane said quickly, prompted by Frank's reminder, and began walking toward the house. After a couple of steps, she turned back to where only Frank and I remained. "Thanks for today, PJ," she said sweetly, a small smile on her face.
"Don't mention it," I replied, returning her smile. "See you tomorrow?" I asked, slightly concerned her mother might ground her or something similar.
"Yes," Diane answered immediately, visibly smiling without hesitation. After a brief moment of comfortable silence, she turned and walked quickly into the house.
Watching the closed door a little too intently and in silence once Diane was inside, I was startled when Frank asked, completely unbothered, "Are you my sister's boyfriend?"
"We're friends," I answered after a moment, caught off guard by the boy's direct question.
"Ok," Frank murmured, frowning in an attempt to look as intimidating as a twelve-year-old could. "Don't make her cry, or I'll hurt you," he warned, holding his 'intimidating' gaze.
"I don't plan on making her cry, but yeah, I don't want you to hurt me," I replied seriously, understanding where the boy's protectiveness came from.
"All right," Frank said cheerfully, nodding before bending to pick up the skull he had dropped. He then walked off without another word.
"See you later, little buddy," I said, amused by his sudden mood change, as I headed back to my car.
While driving home, with the music still at the same volume Diane and I had been listening to earlier, I couldn't help but sing at the top of my lungs over the noise of the speakers.
"Someone's happy," Mom said with a suggestive smile as I walked into the house. She was sitting calmly on the couch, reading one of her magazines.
"Well, I had fun today," I explained easily, taking a seat next to her.
"I'm glad," Mom said, reclining against the couch back and smiling sweetly. "Where did you take Diane?" she asked curiously.
"We went to breakfast at the Waffle House," I answered, making Mom scoff.
"Of course you did. Did you drink your giant milkshake?" Mom asked, raising an eyebrow and obviously judging me.
"Yes, but for your information, Diane ordered one just like it," I quickly defended myself, feeling the need to counter her direct attack.
"Really?" Mom asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "Interesting…" she murmured, her smile now carrying much more meaning.
"After that, I gave her a car tour of Medford while listening to music, and then we walked in the park," I narrated easily.
"Good," Mom said seriously, nodding. "That girl deserves a normal life," she added, frowning deeply.
Clearly, Mom had heard from Mrs. Cooper about the strict upbringing Dr. Adler had imposed on Diane since childhood, and it clearly didn't sit well with her.
"You should invite her to dinner one of these days," Mom declared excitedly, clasping her hands together.
"Sure," I replied, smiling at her easily, though I wasn't entirely sure Dr. Adler would let Diane stay away from her for that long. "Where is everyone?" I asked a moment later, noticing the silence in the rest of the house and changing the subject.
"Your dad and your siblings went out to pick up some dinner. I think they're bringing fried chicken," Mom explained calmly, turning her attention back to the TV.
"Great, I'm famished," I said jokingly, exaggerating an English accent.
"What's with the accent?" Mom asked, laughing softly.
The next day at school, during lunch, as I sat with my friends, "You look really happy," Kat said, studying my face as she sat next to me at our usual table in the cafeteria. "At least more than usual."
"Oh, thanks. You look too…" I said, pretending to be at a loss for words and making exaggerated faces as if searching for something to say, teasing my friend.
"Oh, shut up," Kat said, rolling her eyes as she lightly punched my arm in exasperation.
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," I said, laughing as I covered myself from her playful hits.
"He's probably thinking about Diane Adler," Georgie said, watching my interaction with Kat with interest and waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"Who?" Kat asked immediately, intrigued.
"Diane Adler is a genius, like Sheldon but our age and a girl," Georgie quickly explained.
"Yeah, we get that by 'Diane,'" Kat muttered.
"Yesterday PJ and she went on a date. I heard my mom talking to yours," Georgie said, smiling mischievously and clearly enjoying the gossip more than he should, seemingly ignoring Kat's sarcasm.
"It wasn't a date," I quickly explained, seeing the curious look Kat was giving me. "I just took her to see Medford. She studies all the time, and I thought it would be a nice change in her routine," I added, watching Kat furrow her brow.
"So it was a one-time thing?" David, sitting next to Georgie, asked, raising an eyebrow and clearly imagining the answer.
Really, you too?
"Maybe a couple more times," I answered, oddly feeling as though they had discovered some kind of secret, which only made David and Georgie tease me more.
"Ignore them and do whatever you want, you goody two-shoes," Kat said sarcastically and dryly, focusing entirely on her lunch.
As it was already customary, after school, I drove Kat to her house. The ride in the car, aside from the music—picked by Kat—was completely silent.
"So, what's *Diane* like?" Kat suddenly broke the uncomfortable silence, not far from her house.
Taken by surprise by her abrupt question, I took a few seconds to reorganize my thoughts.
"She grew up as a math genius," I began slowly, keeping my eyes on the road. "Her mom made sure she had the best tutors and participated in the most advanced competitions in the country."
"Sounds like she's *super* popular in high school," Kat remarked ironically.
"Well, that's another thing. She never went to high school—or middle school, for that matter," I said with a bit of pity in my voice, seeing Kat's surprised expression. "At nine, she won the national math olympiad. By eleven, she already had a master's degree. Since then, all she does is work on a single, incredibly difficult math problem," I explained gravely.
"What?" Kat asked incredulously.
"Yeah. She works every day with a doctor from MIT, solving equations. I don't think she has friends. She doesn't watch TV unless it's for the news. She's never been to the movies, doesn't listen to music, doesn't know how to swim or ride a bike. I doubt she's ever been to a party with people her age," I recounted somberly, thinking back on Diane's isolated life.
"Wow, that's really sad," Kat said softly, her concern evident, as if she had a lump in her throat.
"Exactly. But when you really get to know her, past that little barrier of social awkwardness, she's fun. She knows tons of random facts, smiles a lot. For some reason, she's always cold, and when she smiles, she gets embarrassed and tries to hide it by biting her lip or covering it with the side of her hand," I explained, recalling yesterday's moments with Diane.
Silence returned, but this time it felt heavier.
"So, you want to show her there's more to life than just studying?" Kat finally broke it again, watching me with an incredibly sad, small smile.
"Exactly. She'll be here for a week, so I decided to show her everything she's been missing out on," I said firmly, shrugging as I pulled up in front of Kat's house. I wouldn't let Diane remain hidden from life.
"You really are a goody two-shoes," Kat murmured, shaking her head as she exhaled and opened the car door.
Rolling my eyes, I sighed. "I'm not a goo—" I started to say but was cut off as Kat surprised me by kissing my cheek.
"I'd like to meet her before she leaves," Kat murmured with a smile before quickly stepping out of the car.
The unexpected kiss left me so stunned that I couldn't respond as my friend closed the door from outside.
"See you tomorrow, goody two-shoes," Kat said mischievously, leaning down to look at me through the open passenger window.
"I'm not a goody two-shoes!" I yelled, pretending to be offended, leaning across the car. Kat, already walking toward her house, simply waved goodbye without looking back.
After dropping off Kat, I once again drove the route I'd taken the day before. It didn't take long to reach the ranch. This time, before I could even step out of the car, Diane, now wearing a new sweater, opened the front door of the house, smiling brightly.
"You didn't have any trouble yesterday?" I asked Diane after greeting her, now seated in the car.
"Oh no, surprisingly, Dr. Shankland was quite happy that I went out," Diane replied with a small smile, nodding slowly.
"And your mom?" I raised an eyebrow, already guessing the answer.
"She was mostly upset with you. She thinks you're a bad influence on me," Diane admitted with slight embarrassment, pressing her lips together. "But with Hank's help, we convinced her you weren't, so she let me go out again," she added quickly, as if trying to reassure me.
"She's probably right," I said seriously, tilting my head. "I'm not a goody two-shoes," I declared, starting the car and revving the engine lightly.
"Goody two-shoes?" Diane asked, puzzled.
"A very good person," I explained casually.
"But you *are* a very good person," Diane said, frowning in confusion.
Clenching my jaw, I slowly nodded. "Yes, I am," I admitted after a moment. For some reason, when Diane said it, it didn't feel like an odd insult.
Since it was Monday and the mall was usually quieter on weekdays, I decided to take Diane there to visit the shops and maybe grab some coffee.
"I talked to my friends about you, and aside from Georgie, who already knows you, they're all really interested in meeting you. Also, my mom wants to invite you to dinner one of these days," I said, glancing at Diane as I drove toward the mall, turning down the music she had immediately turned on.
Hearing that, Diane froze completely for a moment, obviously uncomfortable with the idea.
I knew that due to her upbringing, Diane had deeply ingrained social discomfort, which sometimes showed as excessive formality in odd moments, like yesterday at the Waffle House with Sam. But seeing her reaction now, I could tell there was a little fear mixed in.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," I quickly reassured her, focusing back on the road.
"No, it's not that I don't want to. Just… maybe one of these days," Diane responded calmly after a few seconds, her posture relaxing slightly.
At least it wasn't a definitive no.
When we arrived at the mall, Diane—now surrounded by far more people—wore her mask of complete formality once again, walking beside me.
"Medford only has one mall, unlike Boston. Last winter break, I'm pretty sure I visited every single mall there, and sadly, this one doesn't compare to any of them," I remarked as we strolled past the shops, recalling every single mall London had dragged me to.
"I wouldn't know; I've never been to a mall," Diane said. Despite maintaining her serious mask, her eyes sparkled with curiosity. "But I do know there are approximately 43,000 malls across the United States. With a population of about 250 million people, that's an average of 5,800 people per mall."
"When you put it that way, it makes much more sense why Boston has so many malls," I said, amused, making Diane nod in agreement. "Wait, who buys your clothes, then?" I asked, remembering her earlier statement.
"My mom buys them for me," Diane replied easily, without a hint of embarrassment.
Of course her mom chooses her clothes.
"Well, I'm pretty sure there should be at least one store here that sells sweaters," I declared, deciding the first thing we'd do was let Diane pick out her own clothes, "even if you're the only person in Medford who's currently cold," I added, joking.
Convincing Diane to shop for her own clothes turned out to be a bit of a challenge. She was slightly against the idea altogether.
"I don't find it efficient at all to buy clothes on my own when I have my mom to do it," Diane said, examining a pair of pants with a puzzled expression as we walked through the store. "Besides, I don't understand the need for more clothes. I have all that I need," she added, frowning as she shrugged.
Yeah, I know that feeling.
"Someone very wise once told me there's a big difference between needing and wanting," I said seriously, recalling London's words.
"Which is?" Diane asked, tilting her head in interest.
"I have no idea," I admitted immediately. "But what I do know is that walking around stores with someone can be a surprisingly fun experience," I added, smiling at Diane.
"Well, I suppose that makes sense," Diane said slowly, her wide eyes visible behind her glasses.
If shopping with London had taught me anything, it was that browsing stores while chatting with someone could be surprisingly enjoyable.
Unlike every other woman I'd gone shopping with, Diane chose what she wanted with supreme ease—if there was even something she wanted at all. And though I offered to pay for some of her items as a gift, she easily pulled out several hundred-dollar bills from her wallet to pay for her own purchases.
Being wealthy really had its perks.
"And this is the music store," I declared, carrying half the bags from Diane's shopping spree and pointing to the store. "This is where all the CDs we listen to in my car come from."
"There are so many," Diane said, astonished, as we walked into the store and she took in the shelves packed with boxes of discs.
"Yeah, hundreds or thousands of hours of music at your fingertips," I said seriously, nodding as I gazed at the rows of CDs. "Come on," I added, motioning toward the back of the store.
"How do you know which one you want to buy?" Diane asked curiously, walking behind me through the store.
"By listening to them," I replied, turning my head with a smile. "Hey, Karl," I greeted the store clerk as we passed the main counter, dropping a five-dollar bill on the desk. The same acne-marked teenager who had helped Kat and me on our first visit here months ago barely looked up from the magazine he was reading.
Since that first visit, I'd come back several more times to expand my CD collection—now just for myself.
"Hey," Karl said without taking his eyes off his reading material, lazily pocketing the bill.
"I'm going to check out a few CDs in the back," I said, pointing toward the listening stations with headphones.
"Knock yourself out," Karl mumbled disinterestedly, waving a hand without looking up.
"Did you just bribe that worker?" Diane whispered nervously as she walked closer to me between the aisles.
"Yes," I admitted shamelessly.
After my second visit, Karl had grown increasingly annoyed with my presence, picking out CDs for hours. To avoid his sarcastic comments and unpleasant stares, I had decided to pay him five dollars each time to leave me—and Kat, when she came along—in peace.
"Leave your stuff there and pick out at least three CDs that look interesting," I said, pointing near the listening stations and feeling slightly excited.
"How can I choose 'interesting CDs' without having listened to them first?" Diane asked, squinting her eyes in genuine curiosity.
"Well, there's a rack near the entrance with the top-selling CDs of the month. You could start there, or what I like to do is pick based on the cover art," I explained quickly, pointing toward the entrance.
"I see," Diane said slowly, nodding with narrowed eyes. "Are you going to pick CDs too?" she asked, looking me in the eye with interest.
"I think for now it's better if you pick the CDs," I said seriously, wanting her to continue exploring her autonomy.
"All right," Diane responded after a moment, nodding a couple of times with slight hesitation before starting her search around the store.
As she walked through the aisles, Diane frequently glanced back to make sure I was still there. Occasionally, she held up strange CD covers to show me while gathering the ones that caught her eye.
After a few minutes, she returned with a small stack of CDs in her hands.
"Oh, Kat told me about this band—Green Day," I said, picking up the first CD from the ones Diane had chosen and getting ready to play it. I handed a pair of headphones to Diane. "What's wrong?" I asked, noticing the slight grimace on her face as I turned to her.
"Nothing," Diane said quickly, lying as she carefully placed the headphones over her ears with slow, deliberate movements.
Deciding to let it slide, I put on my own headphones and started the album.
At first, Diane simply listened, completely still. But as time went on, she began tapping her feet lightly to the rhythm of each song. Seeing her loosen up more and more, I remembered how much fun I'd had that time Kat had forced me to dance in the shop. I took one of Diane's hands, surprising her, and started doing the same.
Ignoring the awkwardness, I continued dancing slowly, making Diane smile faintly despite her embarrassment.
With some effort—a lot, to be honest—I managed to get Diane to join in, moving with far less enthusiasm than me but still dancing and enjoying the music.
As I watched Diane delicately dance with her eyes closed, more confident after several minutes, I slowly stopped, happy to see her smiling.
"What?" Diane asked as the song we were listening to ended, opening her eyes to see me staring at her.
"Nothing," I said, realizing it would be strange to admit I'd been staring at her for at least a minute. I picked up the CDs we had listened to. "It's time to go," I added, checking my watch with slight disappointment.
"Already?" Diane asked, gently pulling my wrist toward her to check my watch herself. "Oh, you're right," she said, biting her lip lightly and nodding.
"Okay, I think I'll buy this one," I said, picking the last CD we had listened to, recalling the image of Diane dancing.
"I will too, but I want one of each," Diane quickly said, walking back to where she had picked the same CD I was holding, presumably to grab another copy.
"Ready?" I asked when Diane returned, grabbing the bags we had left on the floor.
"Just..." Diane said softly, taking the CD from my hand and swapping it for the copy she had picked. "Ready," she added with a small smile.
"Okay..." I replied, puzzled by the exchange, as we headed to the counter.
After paying for the CDs, we left the store and walked back through the mall.
"That was really fun. I didn't know dancing could be so cathartic," Diane said, smiling as she spoke, apparently forgetting to put back on her mask of formality.
"Yeah, I remember the first time Kat brought me to the store—we danced for hours," I said, amused at the memory.
After a few steps, I noticed the silence that followed my comment and glanced sideways at Diane, whose expression had suddenly become strangely stoic.
"So… I think tomorrow we could go to the movies. There's an interesting film playing," I said quickly, trying to ignore the discomfort.
"Yeah, that sounds interesting," Diane replied slowly, adjusting her glasses with her sweater sleeve and avoiding looking at me.
"Is—" I started to ask if something was wrong.
"This 'Kat'... is she one of the friends who wants to meet me?" Diane interrupted, looking at me seriously.
"Yeah, she's a very good friend of mine," I replied quickly.
"All right," Diane said, nodding and continuing to walk beside me, apparently with no intention of elaborating further.
We reached the car, where we once again listened to music and sang along, especially to the last CD we'd picked.
Back at the ranch where Diane and her family were staying, I helped her carry a few shopping bags to the porch.
"I had a lot of fun today, thank you," Diane said as we reached the porch steps, climbing up a couple.
"I'm glad you had fun. I did too," I said, smiling as I handed her the bags, which weren't very heavy.
Now standing on higher ground, Diane—who was usually much shorter than me—was directly at eye level. Noticing this, both of us fell into a pleasant silence. I felt like I could have stood there for hours.
"I'll head inside," Diane finally said, breaking the silence after several seconds.
"Sure," I replied, swallowing nervously. Diane nodded again and climbed the last step. "See you tomorrow," I added before she could open the door.
"Yes, I can't wait," Diane said with a cheerful smile before quickly stepping inside the house.
My steps back to 'Debbie' felt strangely light, and before I knew it, I was driving back to the hospital, almost three hours 'late'.
"I'm sorry. Looks like my watch is broken," House declared exaggeratedly when I walked into the diagnostics lounge. He was reading a magazine, and his comment made Chase laugh while Cameron rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Either that, or the celebrity here is three hours late," House added sarcastically, pointing at me.
"I don't have a schedule," I replied, exasperated, dragging a chair toward the table.
"No, you don't. But you're usually punctual. You don't show up late without a 'special' reason," House said slowly, narrowing his eyes as he leaned in slightly to scrutinize me.
Knowing nothing I said would stop House from analyzing me, I decided to ignore him, hoping he wouldn't figure anything out from my reaction.
"Obviously, he's coming from a date," Cameron said suddenly, smirking, taking everyone—including me—by surprise before House could say anything.
"It's no fun if I don't figure it out myself," House declared, frowning in fake annoyance. "But yeah, you're right, the stupid smile he had when he walked in was enough," he continued, shaking his head, seemingly disappointed in himself.
"I wasn't on a date. We just went to the mall," I quickly said, defending myself for some reason.
"That's a date," Chase, who was reading a book, said calmly.
"Yup," Cameron agreed, nodding with a smile as she looked at me.
"So, another cheerleader?" House asked, leaning back in his chair and raising one eyebrow suggestively.
Why did I come here in the first place?
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Honestly, I wasn't expecting the reception this new storyline is getting, as I said, it's literally a new world for me when writing (like everything else obviously, but romance is much more complicated).
I read each and every one of your comments, and I appreciate them so much, I implore you, if you have any advice on this matter, please give it. I don't promise to follow each one to the letter, but I do promise to always keep them in mind.
Now, for those asking about other aspects in the story—football and the time with House— first based on what I researched, high school football operates on a seasonal basis, which I didn't know when I first wrote about it. Do I want to continue exploring that topic? Absolutely, but I'll need some time to think it through (especially regarding Coach Cooper).
I'm not sure how these chapters will be received after a few more, but obviously, Diane's "arc" will last for a few more chapters until it settles properly into the story.
For now, we can expect one or two more chapters fully focused on the relationship, followed by others that aren't entirely centered on it.
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Author Thoughts:
As always, I'm not American, not a doctor, not a fighter and I'm not Magnus Carlsen.
Another chapter has passed, so new thanks are in order. I would like to especially thank:
RandomPasserby96
11332223
Victor_Venegas
With that said,
I think that's all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.
Thank you for reading! :D
PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.