The idiocy of perfection

Chapter Twelve: Chivalry

I was nervous. Not for normal reasons like I wouldn't look good or I would dress to the wrong level of fanciness or something girly like that. No, I was nervous that we'd fail this test. In my mind we weren't completely together or made up so this was the big test, the final, the 75% percent of your grade, the sanity destroyer. Yep, ain't I romantic?

I wore jeans and laced up boots. I had one of those sweater-yet-not-cold-protecting-skin-tight-sweaters on. I had no idea what we were doing.

I had texted Audrey, who seemed to have finally resigned to all this, and she suggested indoor clothes. A hell a lot of good that did me. Ok maybe I did have some girly worries.

I walked down the stairs and my parents smirked. By the way, it's occurred to me you might not understand exactly what my parents are like. They're oxymoronic after all, work-aholic rockers.

It actually started off as a bet they made with there parents when they first got together, they could succeed and keep the rock-vibe. So they worked constantly while moonlighting at biker bars, eventfully the latter fell out of there life style (way before I was born) but the former remained.

So there you go, I work for tips people.

Anyways, my mom smiled and my dad assured me he'd whup this kids ass if he did something wrong. I said thanks. I also told him his name was James, my mom raised an eyebrow. 'I told you so.' she mouthed. Yeah, she was pretty smug about all this.

There was a knock on the door and I opened it, embarrassed I was nervous. I smiled widely when I saw him, he was wearing a football team jacket but had a Decembrist T-shirt on underneath.

All three people in my family loved the Decembrists, he was making a great first impression, my dad put a hand on my shoulder. "Good choice of shirt kid." he smiled, "But it won't do you any good if she's not back by 10:30."

I flushed, "We will." I answered, stepping out the door, "See ya." My parents closed the door but I had a distinct feeling they were watching through a window.

"Good job, anywa-" I stopped, "Pickup truck?" James had come in an old ford pickup with a blanket covering whatever was in the trunk.

He smiled, "First surprise of the night eh? It's my dad's." I remembered his mothers very southern hairdo when she came to dinner. I guess James's dad drove a pickup. My uncle did to...

I almost said that last part aloud which basically would've been the most unromantic thing ever. "I expect the band perry." I announced.

He laughed and opened my door for me, "Chivalry is not dead!" I cried in a mock falsetto, putting the back of my hand against my forehead and falling backward on to the seat.

James chuckled and sat himself in the drivers seat. "I'm the last known survivor." I rolled my eyes.

"Then I expect a lot, first off to tell me where we're going." I answered.

He shook his head, "Sorry my dear, but don't worry, you might catch me off guard at some point in the drive. I gotta focus on driving stick."

I laughed lightly, "Not your forté?"

"Everything is my forté, this is just less... fort." he answered, looking mildly confused. He takes Spanish I'm guessing.

"If it makes you feel better you actually used that correctly. You said it was less strong." I take French.

He smiled widely, "Everything is my forté, I told ya so."

At one point, when he was switching a turn signal on and fiddling with the gears I tried again. He still wouldn't tell me, I stuck my tongue out at him.