Page 21 of Their Romantic Chalet

SEVEN

hawk

I drive down to the road, shifting in my seat. I don’t know how to feel. I have never been kicked out by a girl and felt this way.

Usually, I take it in stride. If she doesn't want me around, okay; there’s no real reason to excessively push the issue.

Lavender ain’t just any other girl, though.

She’s special, and that’s the problem.

Any other girl lying to me like she does, and I’ll just check out. Her lies have a fearfulness to them. How she turns a pale white whenever I stumble on to something.

But the nice car, the fancy chalet, the general naïveté to how the world works?

The girl is rich as hell, and she’s ashamed of it.

She doesn't have that aura of superiority that you’d expect. Maybe she has good parents?

No. Not with how she’s freaking out over their presence.

It must have been some friends. Or someone else in her life. Someone to instill basic decency and values, and as such, she’s ended up as a beautiful person in both mind and body.

She wants to not be some rich guy’s daughter; she wants to be so much more.

Yet the terror that she has in her eyes...

I pull into a gas station. I don’t need gas, but I also don’t want to keep going down the road I’m on.

She wanted me to leave. She wanted to protect me from them.

When, in fact, she needs me to protect her from them.

Out of the gas station, I turn around and start driving back to that chalet. I’m going to show Lavender that I will stand up for her and defend her. That she is a goddamn adult and doesn’t need such toxic parents in her life.

I knew I was spoiled with such a good family. And to have such good friends too. You just never realize how good you have it until you see someone who isn’t as blessed as you are.

Rolling up the mountain, I see another car next to Lavender’s Lamborghini. A BMW, the most basic of rich people's cars.

I hear shouting from within. There’s already an argument in full force.

I hop out, ready to inject myself into a volatile situation.

It’s a terrible idea, really.

But for Lavender? I’d probably wade through the lava of hell for her.

EIGHT

lavender

I’m dressed as best as I can be before they walk in: white blouse, black skirt, dress shoes.

It’s like I’m dressed for a job interview.

For a meeting with my parents.

I see their BMW roll up, and I’m panicking. I tried to clean up the chalet as best I could. I never made a mess of it, anyway, but nothing is ever good enough for them.

---