Falling

Chapter Fifteen

Cat P.O.V.

It's a quiet drive to Dawson's house other than the soft Christmas music playing. "Okay, so, fair warning on my mom, she's great but will also try to hug you immediately. My dad, he'll shake your hand and probably will ask you about England, and you already know Dallas so," he says, giving me a quick glance, "Got it. Your mom will hug me, you dad won't and Dallas will be Dallas," I say and he nods while laughing, "Basically," he says and pulls into the driveway of a light grey two-story house that has a small porch and definitely gives the vibe of an older southern home. "It's beautiful," I say, still looking at the house. "Yeah it is, my mom repainted it a while ago," Dawson says. "Come on," he says, getting out of the car. I get out as well, Dawson leads me up to the house and opens the door, "Welcome to my house," he says holding the door open for me. I walk in and look around the living room we walked into, but before I can actually look at anything I hear a woman's voice yell. "Dallas Elliot grey leave the batter alone." I look at Dawson curiously, "My mom," he explains. I nod and Dallas comes almost running out with his head ducked laughing, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he says between laughs. A lady that has long brunette hair and is a bit taller than me follows behind Dallas with a spatula raised almost as if to hit Dallas. I turn to look at Dawson but he's laughing, "Is this normal," I whisper to him and he nods, "Dallas will do whatever he has to do in order to get a bit of the batter," he says then clears his throat, "Mom," he says loud causing the lady to snap her head to look at Dawson for a brief second before looking at me and a big smile overcomes her face while she lowers the spatula, "You must be Cat," she says with the same southern accent the boys have. I smile shyly and nod, "Yes, hi," I say and she steps towards me. She has light brown eyes that almost match the color of her hair, "It's nice to meet you, Cat. I'm Angelica, Dawson and Dallas's mother," she says sweetly with a bright smile still in place. "I hope you're hungry mom went all out," Dallas says walking over to us and putting his arm on top of his mother's head. She promptly uses the spatula to hit Dallas in the stomach causing him to step back quickly and yell out. "Hey!"

"What is all this commotion," a male voice says coming into the room. My head turns to look at the middle-aged man with the same light hair as Dawson but dark blue eyes, walking over to us, "Mom is hurting me," Dallas says accusingly. Mrs. Grey shakes her head at the accusation and point the spatula at Dallas, "You probably deserved it Dallas," The man, who I assume is their father, says and Dallas says, "No," at the same time Dawson and Mr. Grey says, "He did," the man laughs and then turns to look at me, "You must be Cat. I'm Eric, nice to meet you" he says with a smile and I nod, "I am. It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Grey," I say, and Angelica pipes up, "Oh, please, call us Angelica and Eric," she says sweetly and Eric nods in agreement, "Okay then," I say. Dallas looks between us all, "Can we eat now," he asks and Angelica nods, "Yes, come on," she says walking into the kitchen area with Dallas and Eric following her but Dawson stays by my side. "I'm sorry about my family, they're-" "It's fine," I say, cutting him off and I take a minute to look over the room we've been standing in. It's very homey, with light wood floors and photos of the family hung on the light grey walls. There are stairs to the right of the room that leads to the second floor. There's almost a balcony of sorts that overlooks the entire room, a TV is against the wall where the stairs are. A couch faces the TV and another couch is ahead of me and. They're all a teal-ish colour perhaps with white throw pillows and when I look at Dawson I notice again the wall beside him is a bookshelf full of books and medals? "What are the medals for," I ask softly and Dawson looks confused before turning to see where I'm looking, "Oh, those. They're from Middle School for academic excellence," he explains and I nod, "You got medals for being smart," I ask and Dawson chuckles, "Kinda," is his only reply. I continue to observe the bookshelf. "Who's that," I ask walking over and pointing at a photo of what seems to be young Dallas, Dawson, and their parents but there's another couple with a boy that seems to be near Dallas and Dawson's height and two younger girls. Dawson walks up behind me and I look back at him to see a somber expression on his face, "That's-" he begins but is interrupted by Dallas yelling, "Come on lovebirds," "We should go," Dawson says. I nod and take one last look at the photo of the seemingly two happy families before following behind Dawson.