maid in the am

25.

God, I can't help but stare into his blue ass eyes while he waits for me to answer. What do I even say. Literally he's still a stranger to me, but for some reason I would trust him with my life? I feel like I've known him for the past eight years, but I know it's not the real him. Or do I know that? I mean he's been nothing but consistent with his behavior in the time I've known him, but again, it has not been very long. I've been weirdly staring at him for like a whole ass minute now, I should probably say something. I am still trying to decide whether or not to tell him everything, so I stall. "Well it depends" I pause, "What exactly do you want to know?" Perfect, this has always been a defense mechanism of mine, just deflect the questions until the other party loses interest. In my case, it usually works pretty well because no one really cares about me. I study him, he looks annoyed, but throws back a quick response. He says, "Don't try to deflect Rosie, I know what you're doing. I just want to know where you came from and how you got here, I'm not trying to hurt you by asking. I'm just curious." He finishes speaking and gives me a look. A very stern look, one that commands me to tell him who I really am, but behind it there's also a softness that begs me to just let him in. Then, he does something unexpected, he reaches across the table and lightly grasps my hand. Not in a romantic way though, more so in a reassuring way. Then he gently pulls it away, knowing not to push the boundaries. I decide that letting one person in will not kill me...probably. So, I spill my guts, for the first time in a very long time. I tell him everything, I really didn't mean to, but once it started flowing I couldn't stop it. Where I was born, how my mom died when I was three, how my dad remarried, how my step mom adopted me, how my father died shortly after, how she remained my legal guardian and treated me horribly, how she married a man that treated me horribly, how my "step-siblings" treated me horribly. I basically told him why I am so guarded, because my whole life any "weakness" I have ever had has been used against me. I told him that's why I left, which is mostly true, but there's also the part where my dear grandmother fought basically until her death to get me back, but the courts wouldn't allow it because she was sick and I wasn't old enough. I spilled my dream as well, that I want to be a chef, that I want to be famous because of the food I make and how it makes other people feel good. I even told him how my grandma's death was the last straw, and how that is what finally gave me the courage to leave in the middle of the night. Thankfully I leave out the part where he was one of the things that got me through those times. Well, One Direction was, not Niall directly but he was a part of it. I finally finish rambling, and make eye contact with him again. He looks relieved? He just says, "I'm so sorry Rosie, that sounds awful. You're so brave, thank you for sharing that with me. I know it must be hard for you" as he grabs my hand once again. We just sit there staring quietly at each other for a moment, like he's waiting for me to breakdown and cry. Only I wont, I've moved past the pain in my life and have distanced myself from feeling anything about it anymore. Just like that my guard is back up, and I flinch at his touch. What have I done? It doesn't matter anymore though, I spilled my upbringing to him, and he didn't run away so I guess thats a good sign. I decide that its his turn to be vulnerable and that I have done enough sharing for the night. I deflect from our little moment, and ask him, "So, I spilled mine, now whats your true story? None of the media bullshit please" I tease him. He takes a deep breath, and stuns me with his next words: "Rosie, there is no media bullshit. My life has been scrutinized by the whole world since I was a teenager, so whatever you know about me from that is more than likely true. The only bad thing that happened to me was my parents divorce, and honestly I was so young when it happened it never really bothered me. I wanted to be famous because music is what I love, and I was poor as dirt. I found my dream, and it came true for me. Sure, it hasn't always been the best, but I still found a way to get up every single morning and find something good. There are days when I don't want to be me anymore, which sounds horrible, but I remember where I was before and it makes it worth it. I love my life, I just miss my home. But recently, you've been feeling like home to me..." he trails off. I don't know how to respond to that. I'm sure that I'm blushing at this point, so I just smile. I respond, "You make me feel the most like myself than I have in a long time" and with that he looks pretty pleased. Thank god, I hardly ever know how to say the right thing. The check comes at this point and we've been talking for all of dinner. He pays it, and I don't even bother looking at how much it was. He makes my life so much easier, I have never had someone take care of me the way he does, apart from my grandmother, and its feels so foreign to me. He still hasn't let go of my hand, but as we get up he finally lets it part from his grasp. He leads me out of the restaurant and over to the car. We Niall starts the car up, and I need music right now. If there's too much silence I'll think too much and ruin my own life. I pair my phone back up with my car, and play I Won't Back Down by Tom Petty. I feel so free right now, so I roll down my window all the way and stick my head out singing at the top of my lungs. I continue doing this, and Niall joins in singing, he also rolls down the rest of the windows. I follow my instincts and pull my head back in from the side window. Then Free Fallin' comes on and I pop up out of my seatbelt and stand with my head out of the moonroof. Niall laughs and belts the song along with me, driving a little more carefully now that I'm half out of the car. We get back to the house, and I plop back down into the seat. He parks the car, and comes over to my side to help me out of the car. He practically pulls me inside, and asks me a question I wasn't really prepared to answer. He says, "Do you want to hear a song I've been writing? If you don't want to it's fine, but I feel like it's best to get as many opinions that I trust on it before I choose it for my album." I look at him, and feel honored that he trusts me and basically stand there smiling like a dumbass. I think he can see right through me, and knows that I mean to say yes but I'm bad at speaking. He grabs my hand and tows me over to a room full of instruments. There's a few small couches, and I sit down on one. He removes his suit jacket, loosens his tie, and rolls up his sleeves. Then he pulls a chair over near me, and grabs a guitar. "Ok, I've only played this to like three people so far Rosie, so don't judge too hard. I just feel like so many people need to hear this message, so enjoy. It's called Fire Away" he says before beginning to strum softly. His strong voice fills the room as I listen. The lyrics he has written seem to be directed almost exactly at me, but there's no way. He said it's for everyone, but why is he choosing to play this one to me. It's so beautiful, his voice carries the words so nicely, and he's so sincere. I just listen intently as he sings:
Darling you don't have to hold it
You don't have to be afraid
You can go 'head and unload it
'Cause you know it'll be okay
Fire away, hm
Fire away
Fire away
Fire away
And I will steady your hand
When you're losing your grip
Even if I don't understand
You can talk to me
And I will say steady your hand
When you're losing your grip
And even if I don't understand
You can talk to me
Fire away
Fire away
As he finishes the song he looks back up at me to gauge my reaction. It's clear by the puzzlement on his face that he has no idea how I feel, but that's fair because I don't either. All I know is that there are tears running down my face, and I can't even fathom that he wrote such a beautiful song. I manage to choke out, "It's beautiful" before I start really crying hard. I'm met with his immediate embrace. He hugs me, and holds me until I calm down. It's been so long since I've felt emotion like that, other than being upset, and I don't know how to react. His strong arms comfort me as he gently rocks us back and forth on the couch. He uses one hand to caress my hair then whispers in my ear, "it'll be okay darling, shhhh, it'll be okay."