Failed Expectations {IN EDITING}

Chapter 2: Lies

A/N: Yay, I got my first vote!! <3. That makes me so happy! I'd LOVE to hear from you if you want comment! Thanks for reading even if you don't vote or comment. I tried to make it longer! Hope you enjoy it!
-XOXO Viviane15
P.S. A special thanks and dedication to VeryBadGurl ! Check out her stories, they're awesome.

(Chris' POV)

>>Image: Chris' Car<<

Somehow I made it out of my house without an extra lecture.

I figured I was doing pretty well. Last year's birthday gift was shining in the morning sun. It was my true love--the one thing I may actually die without--my car. My best friend Daryl said it wasn't healthy to love a car this much. Maybe it wasn't. But I was happy and that was what counted. It was a crimson Mercedes Benz, 2013 S-Class. I had shamelessly squealed like a love-struck preteen meeting the latest boy band when I got it. Who wouldn't?

The engine purred as if to greet me. I gladly stroked the leather interior in return. She (yes, I addressed my car with a female pronoun) was my baby. And speaking of baby, I had to get Rachel today as well. Rachel...she was another model of perfection in my life. She was tall, curvy, fit, beautiful, and popular. She was the whole bundle. And she honestly liked me and I honestly liked her. Sure she could be a bit overbearing and a bit "where were you, I texted you and your mother like, seventeen times!" occasionally, but I couldn't complain.

We both lived in Terrance, a nice, safe, upper class town located far enough from the hustle and bustle of New York to raise your children, but close enough for the commute of business men and other Manhattan workers. We were just picture-freaking perfect. On the outside of course.

Take for example, our neighbors. The Kelly family. The mother stay home and watched their two young children while the father served the city as a dedicated member of the NYPD. But everyone knew that mommy was a bit too fond of the gardener who spent a bit too much time inside. And daddy had an odd habit of spending far to much time with his wife's brother. Perfect, right? It was unnerving in a way when you considered how fake everyone around here was. We were the photogenic image of perfection, the place everyone strived to get to, and yet no one presented themselves in an honest way. We were not different of course.

But I'll get to that aspect, at a later time.

I stopped at the big, white house with nice gray shutters, pruned hedges and a dramatic garden. Rachel's mother, the most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen, had never gotten her hands dirty before so none of it was truly her work, not that she mentioned that during house warming or Tupperware parties. Rachel's mother, Mrs. Ering. She looked a decade older than her daughter and everything was still perky, tight, and round. Rachel always got mad when I told her how hot her mother was but she honestly was attractive. It was indisputable.

I parked by Mr. Ering's car and turned off the car. I heaved a small sigh, reluctant to leave this automatic beauty, but clambered from the car into the sleek, black, asphalt driveway. I approached the door, taking my time, aware that no matter what, Rachel would still not be ready. Women. Honestly. What took them so long to throw on some clothes and apply some make-up? It boggled me time and time again.

I knocked twice and their old house keeper opened the door. "Nice to see you this morning, Mr. Turner."

She was plump with gray hair always tied back in a bun so tight, it was practically a face-lift within itself. I gave the old bitty one of my ever-so-famous smirks. "And you as well," I replied sleekly. "Is Rachel ready?"

The lady of course said no, inviting me in. She was wearing a stiff white cotton uniform with a slightly stained apron from when she worked in the kitchen. Our own house keeper was about ten years younger and barely seen much less heard. She wasn't nearly as a friendly as this woman was. I was sure to pause in the dining room and greet Mrs. Ering who was dressed in a nice, tight black dress that really showed off her assets. Both of them. "Hey there sweetheart," she cooed, bringing me in for the hug that I lived for. (She's your girlfriend's mother, my brain coached. Your girlfriend's MOTHER!). "You're here for Rachel, I'm assuming?"