Dust and Diamonds

7.

I slip into my room, trying to hurry past Bentley who began licking the water from my legs. Sitting on my bed, I pull my book out and begin writing about my morning. I get into detail as much as I can, and I make sure to include all of the details about James in his towel. The sweet smell of cinnamon and coffee swirls into the air, making my stomach growl. I quickly get dressed, slipping my clothes on over my damp skin before heading out to the hallway.

Grandpa sits at the table, holding a cup of coffee in one hand, a cinnamon roll in the other, and a joint pressed between his lips. 

"Something smells good out here." I hummed out.
"Because something good is out here." Grandma placed a cinnamon roll onto a plate. "This is yours, don't let James see you with it, he will take a bite out of it."
"I can hear you," James exclaimed down the hallway.

I sit at the table, chewing at the cinnamon roll. Each bite is warm and glazed. 
"So, any plans for today?" Grandma sits with her fingers looped through each other.
"No. I was going to head into town, walk around a bit, and see what's out there." I smile back at her.
"You do have plans. Because I'm heading into town anyway, so you can come with." James leans over my shoulder, biting into my cinnamon roll. Using his thumb, he slides the icing off of his lips into his mouth. "I've got some shopping to do, so I could show you around while we're out."
Grandpa stares at James, sipping his coffee. "Get me more wraps while you're out. I'm running low."
"You got cash for it?"
"Yeah, I do but you're paying."
He shakes his head at his grandpa, slipping a smile at me. "I'll be in the truck."

I climb into the passenger seat, thumbing at the side tab on my journal while trying to get comfortable on the old cloth seats. "So, what are your plans?"
"Our plans are to head into town, go on a tour, get Grandpa his wraps, and lastly we'll grab groceries."
"Sounds good to me."
He fires up the engine and we take off through the valley. The truck ran rickety and the passenger seatbelt didn't work, but I didn't care. He thumbed at the knob on the radio while keeping his gaze focused on the road. Flicking to channel 102.7,  he glanced at me. "LA girl, this is your type of music, right?" Sabrina Carpenter's "Espresso" played the last few notes before cutting to a commercial. He turned the radio down. "What's wrong? You not liking the tunes?"
I shake my head. "I'm just riding along."

We keep heading straight through a dirt road before riding up onto the highway. His knuckles whitened with his grip on the steering wheel and his shirt began to bead with sweat. I chuckle at the sight.
"What's funny?"
"You wouldn't last ten minutes in LA's traffic."
"Yeah, well, I'm not a big fan of being bumper to bumper. I'd rather walk than drive on the highway." He checked his blind spot beginning to merge.
"You wouldn't have been able to merge if this was LA. They would've never let you into the lane."
"If I'm driving, I'm getting into the lane."