Mrs All American ❅ Luke Hemmings

Before

a/n: hola. another past-chapter-flashback-thing. you guys need to know more about her and Jack's past. might be sad. might not. if there are any Jase (Jack + Rose) shippers out there, this one's for u. (I kind of ship Jase harder than I ship Ruke but I can't make Jack win her love bc well, life, and she's too in love with hemmings. chapter in third person.
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Chapter 30 - Before

October 16th 2011

Rose knew her mother was only trying to make her fifteenth birthday as special as possible, but she thought it was a little out of the ordinary. A fancy dinner party? That's what princesses go to, and she was not a princess; She was just a simple teenager who wanted a simple party.

Still, Rose's mom wouldn't hear any of it. The formal party will happen. Besides, it wasn't just about Rose, it was also this fancy shmancy dinner party their family was invited to; the birthday thing was just a plus. Rose didn't know anybody at this party but her mom insisted that she'd make friends. So, quite unwillingly, Rose went.

"Mom, are you sure there'll be people my age?" She asked uneasily as they got in the limousine, which was ordered by her father's friend– their host– to pick them up.

Her mother smiled broadly. "Definite, honey. Your father's friend– Mr. Veselovsky– has a son around your age." She chirped happily.

Rose furrowed her eyebrows. Around her age? The last time her mother dragged her along to a party and promised there would be people 'around her age', the closest person to her age was nineteen.

"He's sixteen." Her dad informed her, noticing Rose's unsure expression.

'Sixteen? Why would a sixteen year old boy want to hang out with me? I mean, I'm such a nerd.' Rose thought to herself, miserably and automatically raised her hand to push her glasses up, when she remembered, her mother made her wear contacts for the party. She sunk back in the leather seat and exhaled through her nose.

Her father glanced at her and, when her mom wasn't paying attention, whispered to her, "They have a chocolate fountain."

Rose's eyes brightened, 'A chocolate fountain? Who doesn't love chocolate fountains?' She thought and grinned at her father, who smiled back, pleased to have made his daughter happy.

The limo ride was brief. They stopped in front of a huge fancy-looking restaurant, filled with rich and formal looking people.

The family stepped out of the vehicle and Rose instantly reached over for her dad's hand. She gulped. 'Oh gods. Here comes the strange looks.' She thought, whimpering. Her father squeezed her hand and she squeezed back, assuring him that she'd be fine, even though she wasn't really sure about that in reality.

They entered the restaurant and walked up to a wooden mahogany counter. "Do you have a reservation, sir?" Asked the man at the counter, directing his question at Rose's father. The man had a British accent and a mustache. Very cliché.

"Yes. The Veselovsky family invited us." Rose's dad stated.

The British guy nodded curtly, "Please, follow me." He strode off deeper into the restaurant and the family followed.

They were escorted to another– more private– area, where there was a long table, other separate small tables holding food, waiters/waitresses serving the food and a few lone tables with two or three chairs for more serious and private conversations.

Rose looked around, her eyes searching for the fountain. That's when she spotted it, in the midst of all the food, there it was . . . The almighty chocolate fountain. She gripped her father's hand tighter. He squeezed back and released her hand.