Wow, geez, this is really fun to write :)
"Dianna? Dianna! Hey!"
Dropping his hand from the door in defeat, Darren sighed. It was one-thirty in the afternoon. She had to be awake…
He walked to the backyard, ready to peer through the big glass door he already knew was in the back of the house but it was already open. A familiar song was blasting through the windows, but it took him a moment to believe his ears.
"If only you saw what I can see, you'll understand why I want you so desperately!"
He jumped back suddenly when he saw a flash of blonde bobble by the door. There she was, bouncing around her apartment, flailing her limbs around wildly as she sang along with the song. Paint splattered in random directions from the light orange paintbrush Dianna was swinging around in her hand.
He covered his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing, shaking as he leaned against the window frame and watched the bubbly blonde flail her limbs to the beat of the song. Her hair flopped violently as she swayed her hips and kicked to the tempo. He refused to alert her of his presence as long as he could help it. This was far too much fun.
As the song came to an end Dianna let her body fall back into the couch with a content sigh, paint-sodden brush sliding down the plastic-covered couch slowly. It was moments before she picked herself up and turned, yelping, and almost dropping the paint roller when she saw him there, leaning against the frame and holding back the laughter that threatened its way out.
"So…" his eyes flickered mischievously, "there's this One Direction concert coming up and…" Darren had to stop because both the situation and the look on her face at the moment was enough for him to just lose all his marbles.
"Don't…" Dianna warned, eyes squinting dangerously, yet humorously as she neared him with the brush pointed at him, "you dare finish that sentence-."
"And I was wondering if you wanted to go with me!" he blurted, doubling over in laughter.
Dianna dropped the roller in a nearby bin and shuffled over to him, swatting him all over his body while simultaneously pushing him out of the doorway. "Get out, get-out!"
"Hey, hey! I'm sorry…" He held his hands up in defense, although her hits didn't really hurt. Grabbing both her wrists and holding them up, he crowded into her and smiled playfully, "But it was just too easy. "
Dianna scoffed, smiling, and rolled her eyes, "What are you even doing here?"
"Well, good day to you too, sunshine." Darren smiled and cocked his head to the side adorably, "I'm here to help, of course."
Dianna looked at him, confused and a little hazy, "Help with what?"
He finally dropped her hands and motioned to the half-orange wall opposite him, "Paint, I guess. I mean, you did just move into a brand new house. I'm no expert, but that doesn't really seem like a one-person job."
"No, no," she chuckled, waving him off politely, "I'm fine, I'm fine. You go enjoy yourself or something. It's gorgeous today!"
It was true. The sun was shining warmly, but not overly so. There was a faint breeze coming from the ocean and the sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks were enough to sooth even the worst of moods.
"U-huh." He mumbled, gazing inside the living room, "Now where do you keep your spare paint rollers?"
"Wha-Darren? I just said-"
"I know what you said." Darren said, giving her a look that said 'Bitch, please'. "This is L.A., it's always gorgeous. And here," he added, pulling off the brown button-down shirt he wore over his nautical-striped tank and draping if over her shoulders.
"What's this for?" she questioned, smiling as he pulled her arms through the sleeves.
"You're gonna get paint all over yourself, and your top."
"And you?"
"Have you already forgotten about Coachella?" he cocked his head playfully.
Dianna threw her head back, laughing at the memory of the photo's Chord had shared with her from his phone: a shirtless Darren covered head-to-waist in "war paint." That had certainly made her day, to say the least. "Alright, alright. It's in the kitchen."
Over an hour had gone by, with them idly small-talking about what they had done this summer thus far. Dianna had spent some time in France, travelling on her own while Darren had opted for lazy days on the sand, going for the occasional day out on the town with his former roommates.
Eventually, though, even they had run out of things to say, the silence in the air almost unsettling, and Darren hated that.
"I'll be right back." He said, bolting through the front door.
"Where are you-" but he was already gone.
About two minutes later Darren had come bustling through the door, out of breath and iPhone in hand, waving it at her urgently.
"Um…?" Dianna looked questioningly at him until he docked it into her iHome system and started scrolling through his music library. "Oh, what song-?"
She was cut off by a fast-paced violin blasting from her speakers, followed by a smooth, old-fashioned voice and a beat that made her want to dance all over again.
'You could have a great career, and you should, yes you should. Only one thing stops you dear. You're too good, way too good…'
"Is that…" Dianna asked unsure, "Elvis Costello?"
"The one and only." Darren replied, taking the brush from her hand and placing it on the newspaper-covered floor.
"What are you-!" she gasped in surprise when Darren swung her around and pulled her into his arms smoothly, grabbing one of her hands and placing the other around her waist firmly. He began to sing along with the lyrics and he swung them around effortlessly, "We're all alone, no chaperone…"
Dianna burst into a fit of giggles, humoring him as she danced gracefully with him.
"There's something wild about you, child, that's so contagious…" Darren sang, smiling charmingly as he spun her, then dipped her daringly, "Let's be outrageous! Let's misbehave!"
Dianna was growing quite fond of this song, a feeling of dizzy blissfulness taking over as she laughed and danced with Darren. Everything was carefree and light, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so hard.
'They say that spring means just one thing, two little lovebirds…we're not above birds! Let's misbehave!'
They attempted to swing dance, jumping and spinning until the song switched to a slower Kimbra song, giving them to catch a breath as they collapsed onto each other and onto the hardwood floor.
'You heard the crickets of the early eve, they lurk around the open in two's and three's…'
After what felt like something close to an hour of Dianna just petting his hair Darren let out a loud, content sign against her stomach and mumbled, "You're a very good dance partner."
"I should hope so," Dianna chuckled, "Been doing it since I was three. Where did you learn to swing dance like that?"
"Took a class in college with my friend Jaime." He grinned dopily over her stomach and whispered, "It was nuts."
"Oh god, I don't even wanna know how many times you injured yourself in the process…" she laughed.
"Got the battle scars to prove it!" he revealed, pointing to the faintest indent on his left cheekbone.
Dianna lifted his head to get a better look, "Huh…how did you-never mind." She threw her hands up in exasperation and giggled uncontrollably. Never mind a knee injury or something.
Darren dropped his head to her stomach again and started drawing figures over her abs with his fingers, "So…we should probably get back to painting now…"
Dianna sighed, "Yeah, I guess…" She reluctantly lifted herself up, stretching halfheartedly, "It was fun while it lasted."
"Dianna, please." He turned, throwing her a dazzling smile that made her stomach flutter in all the right ways, "We've got all summer long to misbehave."