Chapter Thirty-Five

"Um, hi." I murmur, smiling my nicest smile.

Iran emerges from behind her and an older man who I assume must be his Father. The woman's smile transforms into a wife grin and she laughs in amusement. "Oh, I like her! She's pretty this one!"

"Alice, this is my.... Mother." Ian smiles, rubbing the nape of his neck. He looks extremely awkward.

"What a pleasure to meet you, Alice!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mrs Dubens." I try out courteously. I'm not good at being polite but it's worth a try.

She laughs and shakes her head, "Oh no! Please, call me Caroline. Only my work employees have to call me Mrs." She waves her hand at me and I smirk, nodding. "OK."

Ian smirks and gestures his hand towards the older man. "My Father." He says and the man holds his hand out for me to shake. His hair is a light brown, I can tell he's gradually started to go grey. There are minor wrinkles around the corner of his eyes, his lips thin and a light pink. His eyes are a dark green. He seems unapproachable but his outstretched hand is saying different. He reminds of a much older version of Ian...but in other ways.

I smile and shake his hand softly. He gives a lop-sided smile. "Peter."

"Alice." I almost whisper. He is intimidating like Ian as well.

"I hear you're in my son's English class." He scratches at his chin, smiling down at me.

"Y-yes." I stammered as I looked over at Ian, unsure if I was allowed to admit that. Of course, you bloody were, Alice!

Ian smiled with a small nod and brushed past his Father, walking into the kitchen. I stepped aside so he could come through. My eyes followed him as he walked over to the curry sizzling away in the pan. He got back to the task at hand, it was as if his parents suddenly didn't exist. Was he leaving the rest of the conversation to me? What was I supposed to say?

"How old are you, Alice?" Caroline addressed me and I looked back over at her.

"Um. Sixteen."

Peter suddenly raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You look a lot older."

"Really?" I said sceptically.

He nodded, looking at me carefully. His eyes showed a hint of...curiosity? I didn't like the look at all. It gave me freaky chills. "You looked...eighteen, nineteen."

Caroline suddenly looked up at him, giving him an unamused look. She wasn't happy, clearly. She folded her arms over her chest and glared up at him. "I wouldn't say that is very appropriate, darling." Nevertheless, Peter shrugged. "Well, this generation kids don't look their age. At all."

I giggled it off as innocently as I could. Caroline's eyes pierced straight through me like daggers and for a moment I fought as if I had been caught out doing something.

"So, what is English like with my son?" Caroline asked.

"It's decent." I beamed at her. She eyed me curiously and then smiled with a small nod. "He always loved English since he was a kid. Wouldn't shut up about it...at times, I actually wondered if he had too much of a big brain for his body." She laughed in sarcasm and the comment made me cringe.

When I looked over my shoulder, I noticed Ian's shoulders had tensed and his back had become very still. For a moment I actually wondered if he was still stirring the meal around in the saucepan, but once I had looked long enough he began to stir quickly in realization.

"Do you have any siblings?" Peter asked.

I blinked for a second. "N-no. Only child."

"Jealous! I was born in a big family of seven brothers. Would have done anything for some privacy and time to myself." He smiles hopefully. I grinned in amusement. When, I was about to answer Ian's voice filled the room. "Right. Um, Curry is nearly ready. Mum, Dad...take a seat in the dining room and me and Alice can serve." I looked up at him, but he didn't return the glance, his gaze was focuses on his parents who stood motionless in the kitchen doorway. His Mother seemed to be debating with herself on whether or not she should move to the dining room or stay to spy on me and Ian in the kitchen. I could tell, his eyes told me everything about her. She was clearly a snobby and nosey old lady who thought she was better than everyone else. This is exactly why I am no good meeting people's parents...I judge them so easily.

With a final glare of uncertainty his Mother dragged her husband into the dining room with her. Ian let out a sigh of relief. It was as if he had been on edge for the whole time. It was as if he had been holding his breath. I watched him carefully as he closed his eyes and rubbed at his face, he seemed very stressed by the situation.

"What’s wrong?" I ask in a timid voice. I wasn't sure if he was going to lunge at me out of frustration. Instead, he merely nodded and presented himself with a soft smile and reassuring warm eyes. "Nothing. Just...I just don't usually have them here." He opened his eyes, letting his hand fall to his side. He looked exhausted and suddenly it was as if his enthusiasm from earlier was all a fake act.

"Why not? I don't understand." Although, a part of me did understand.

He breathed through his nose and composed himself. "It's nothing that you should worry about. Now, c'mon get those plates on the side and knives and folks. You can lay out the table." He pointed towards the stack of clean dinner plates and pile of Knives and folks. I obeyed easily and took them carefully, carrying them into the dining room. Now, because I got the scent that he didn't actually want them here, neither did I. Knowing he felt comfortable made me feel just the same. I guess that made it a very awkward situation but a part of me said he was only doing this to prove something maybe or to put on a show. Although, his Mother and Father were incredibly polite towards me besides snobby, I did try my hardest to look through it and see the kindness within them.

It made me wonder if my parents would have been like this if they were still alive. I hadn't pictured them as rich looking, such as Ian's parents. However, they definitely would have been completely revolting and hated me to my guts. They didn't like me very much as a child....and I kind of got the impression that Ian's parents were not so certain with him either. Maybe that's why we understood one another or why we were involved with each other to begin with. Even though I don't remember much about my parents, I do remember my Mum telling me that sometimes people click without meaning to. It may be because they share something common or alike, either way somewhere along the line it was, want to happy because things happen for a reason.

When I was younger, I didn't understand that what my Mum said but...I think I get what she meant.