Heartstrings and HighJinks

04

Leah's POV 😎

The dude just called me Caramel.

We reached his house, and it's like a freakin' castle, like does the Queen live here or something?

"Parker, you didn't tell me you were this loaded."

"Sorry, it's not something that comes up in a conversation. Like, 'Hi, I'm Ryan, did you know I am rich?'"

I shook my head. The nerve on this kid.

We entered, and the butler came in and said, "Puis-je avoir votre manteau monsieur et la dame à côté de vous?" ("May I have your coat, sir, and the lady next to you?")

Parker replied in French, "Mes parents ne sont pas à la maison, vous pouvez parler anglais, vous savez?" ("My parents are not at home, you can speak English, you know?")

I turned so fast I got whiplash. I wished I paid more attention in French class, or even showed up.

"You can speak French?"

"Fact: I can speak 15 languages, but I'm originally French, and I learned how to speak French before English, so yeah."

"You know, at this point, I'm not surprised, Parker."

The butler said something in French again, making me feel dumb.

"Nous avons des instructions strictes de vos parents pour toujours parler français à la maison et ignorer vos supplications pour parler anglais, nous sommes désolés, M. William-Smythe" ("We have strict instructions from your parents to always speak French at home and ignore your pleas to speak English, we're sorry, Mr. William-Smythe.")

It took a while for me to realize what the butler said, and when I did, my eyes widened in confusion and shock.

Did he just say William-Smythe? The William-Smythe? Like the Smythe clan? Like the French ROYAL FAMILY Smythe? William and Antionette Smythe?

With my head swarming with all these thoughts, all I said was, "Your last name's William-Smythe?"

He sighed dejectedly, "Yeah."

Why does he sound so sad about it? It's freakin' awesome.

I hit his arm, and he flinched.

"I thought we were friends, Parker. Why didn't you tell me?"

He just glared at me and walked away. Can't do anything but follow. We walked up like 50 flights of stairs, and I saw lots of pictures of just his parents, like lots and lots of them but none of him or his brother.

Why aren't there pictures of them, like at all?

"Parker, do you hate taking pictures?"

He ignored me again, but he had this pained look in his eyes as he looked at the pictures.

Huh, that's weird.

We got to his room, finally, and it's plain white with just one humongous bed, a side drawer, and that's it, that's literally all in his room. For a rich kid, I expected much, much more. As I entered, I saw buttons, lots of buttons.

"What's with all the buttons, dude?"

"Don't touch anything," is all he said, monotonal.

What else do you want me to do? They are buttons; I have a hand. That's like the sole purpose of buttons – to be pressed.

So, obviously, I didn't listen to him and pressed one. I turned as the wall behind me parted and a compartment-like thing came out and opened. It's a closet. It's just a freakin' closet. I walked in, and Parker followed with a sigh. I turned to the left and saw like a hundred grey beanies.