Pencils & Polaroids

30: airport ready

"--you will eat food on time and go to bed before eleven-thirty," my father loads my sage green suitcase into the trunk of his black Mercedes SUV GLS. Do not get me started on the car, I've been fanning myself since I saw it. It is the absolute definition of sexy. "No booze. No boys. And no bloodbath."

I lean against the passenger door and rest my head on the rolled-up window with a thud loud enough to reach my dad's ears. "Jee dad, how ever will I have fun?"

"No fun. This is a BootCamp, you're supposed to train like a dog."

"A film school BootCamp?" I remind him only to be shown his unproud eyes. "Thank you for your encouragement, I don't feel pressured at all." I graciously smile in return.

"I'm impressed," my mother third-wheels our conversation as she pops out of our main door holding my favorite brown jacket in her hands. "I thought Chris couldn't show concern but it seems I stand corrected."

"Mock all you want, Liv, but this one knows better not to break my rules." My father assuringly looks at me and my fake studious smile.

"Right. She looks so scared, good job." My mother gives him a fake gasp before handing me my jacket. As I retrieve it, I try my hardest to hold back the laughter begging to explode. To help me cover up my giggles, she wraps her arms around me. "Break a few rules, please?"

"I'll try," I whisper back with a gush of chuckles.

"If family time is over, we should be leaving." A face pokes out of the other passenger door and both my mother's smile and mine become pursed. Archer, however, greets my mother with a royal grin.

It was one thing that Archer Weston was trying to make amends into winning my mother and me back. But volunteering to drop me at the airport was beyond his boundaries of kindness. Supposedly convenient for my father who busied himself with international calls tonight to leave me no other choice but be accompanied by Archer himself.

"It's going to take a long time to get used to that smile." My mother mutters with her smile still intact and directed towards my stepbrother. "A long long time." She adds.

"Olivia, play nice, please," My father mutters with another glued smile.

Both of their lips don't even move when they talk so Archer has no idea about the conversation on this side of the car. But as for me, I find it humorous. My parents talking with weird and huge grins (both of them suck at grinning) and my stepbrother hoping he gets onto my mother's good side. Sometimes I feel like I woke up on the wrong side of the universe.

As fun as this is, I really want to be rid of the lot of them for two weeks so I quickly get into my father's sexy car with his not-so-sexy driver and his ugly evil stepson to ultimately reach the airport.

The ride to the airport was half chaotic and half peaceful. Archer made small talk to which my sarcastically savage replies didn't quite aid. The small talk transversed into an argument which then ended up with Archer apologizing for the millionth time and like always, me unsettling for it. I needed time to forgive him and he didn't quite know how to give people time. All of it was very new to him and despite the efforts, I see in him trying to engage me and make me happy, he was terribly failing. Not because he was bad at being kind (he wasn't entirely good either) but I was just a very grumpy person in general.

Therefore, for the next half of the drive, we both remained quiet and listened to my father's not-so-sexy driver's very bad playlist. We didn't even bother switching up the music. I was way too excited (internally) for San Fran and Archer was probably too fed up with being around me. Fare, I don't blame him. I'm no fun when I don't talk.