So hey. We had been talking about this chapter and I think it will be one of the best for this story.

And I know how some of you like jumping to the story-I do that sometimes too. But please read this: Christine is not a superhero like Adam, Bree, and Chase. There is a surprise, but it's not what you think. She can't blow up cars or lift things with her mind, and doesn't have insane strength. So quit worrying about it and please enjoy the chapters you do read for now.

Enjoy!


No Pov

Christine was nervous. But she tried to reason with herself that the jittery feelings dancing around in her stomach-which was turning a messy knot-was normal. Other girlfriends got them when they the parents, right? Right.

So that's why when Chase led her up the porch steps to his house, she kept thinking this over and over until it eventually relaxed her (slightly) and slowed her mind-thinking of too many bad scenarios that most likely wouldn't happen was not going to help her situation.

Chase seemed to pick up on her nerves and gave her fingers a soft squeeze and reassuring smile. "You'll be fine," he tried to assure her, only getting a halfhearted smile. Christine inhaled and exhaled, repeating the action a couple times before deciding she was calm enough to stop.

"Let's go," she stated confidently to her boyfriend.

Chase's Pov

I could tell just by looking at her that Christine was nervous. But honestly, when I am in her position-I will be to meet her father-I was probably going to act the same way.

Giving her one more look, I unlocked the door and led her inside, slinging my arm around her waist as I led her into the living room. Her reaction so far about the house-the big gate, security system, the huge size of the house and yard- had seemed expected: shocked. But she lived in the neighborhood too, so the size must not have surprised her that much.

But the inside was most likely the big part. Tasha was in the kitchen, standing at the stove while stirring a pot full of something, Bree was playing hacky sack, supposedly trying to beat her high score of forty-seven, Adam was God knows where, and Leo was sitting on the couch with intense attention focused on the TV ahead of him.

"About time you got h-"Tasha began looking up-she caught the sight of Christine and I very close together and broke into a wide smile, forgetting her unfinished sentence. "Well who's this?" She asked, turning the stove off and walking over. Bree and Leo looked up from their distractions and noticed that I had brought Christine with me.

"Christine," she introduced herself, gripping my hand in hers while waving with her other one. "I just moved in down the street a couple blocks away." Bree had now walked over with her sack in hand. "Hey girl," she greeted Christine was a side hug. Leo just waved while still staring at the TV.

Suddenly Christine wrinkled her nose. "I hate to be rude," she said, "but why does it smell like burnt metal?" It took us a minute, but we caught on to what she meant. Mr. Davenport must be in his lab; it took us a while to acknowledge the scent since we had grown used to it, along with the thumping and bumping tagged along with it.

"That's just my husband," Tasha exclaimed. "He's most likely inventing something that will go berserk five minutes after he's finished." Christine sniffed again before looking like she was trying not to laugh. "Sounds like my dad," she said, letting loose a tiny laugh at the end. "He loves inventing and scientific discoveries himself, if you can relate. One of my best friend's at home is actually a very useful and friendly robot maid: Rem to me, R.E.M to my dad."

Bree wrinkled her nose in confusion. "R.E.M?" she asked, as puzzled as the rest of us seemed to be. "R.E.M: Radio Enthused Maid," Christine explained as if stating her favorite color. I was caught off guard by how quickly she could explain it-almost as if explaining a family member or something about her to us.

"Cool!" Leo exclaimed before turning to his mom. "Can Donald make a robot for us too?" he asked eagerly only to have Tasha discard the comment quickly. "They aren't a bother," Christine said, "no oil changes or leaks as long as the right bugs in the building process were taken care of. Robots are actually quite humane and normal, and don't move the way humans mock them too; I've lived with Rem for nine years since she was created, knowing these things is like knowing my own name." I probably seemed impressed-I didn't know anyone who even understood robots didn't require oil before I met her-but the others had blank faces, not seeming to process The information Christine had shared with them.

The loud noises ceased, then the soft electric hum of the elevator, before some thumping down the stairs. Mr. Davenport came down the stairs with his tie hanging unknotted from his neck, hair disheveled and greasy with an unfinished gadget in his hands. "Tasha have you seen m-"He stopped when noticing Christine for the first time. "Who's this?" he asked with mild interest. "Christine," I informed him. "Chrissie, this is Mr. Davenport." Christine blushed at the nickname, so I took this as a sign that she approved of it.

"Nice to meet you," Mr. Davenport said kindly, wiping his hand down his pants to shake her hand. Christine seemed unfazed by his stained hand, completely comfortable with the electronic burnt smell rising up from the lab. "Did you just move here?" he asked. She nodded. "My dad moved us because of the more common testing facilities in the area," Christine explained. "Back in Minnesota, the old one shut down." Mr. Davenport-a man who spoke like a walking laptop-looked shocked at her words. "Your father is a scientist?" he asked happily, sounding eager.

"Join us for dinner," he suddenly insisted while pushing to the table. Christine shot me a confused yet happy look that I just responded with a shrug to.

Looks like she made quite the impression.


So not as long as I wanted but it doesn't matter as long as it makes you guys happy.