Mere: Very much welcome. :) Well, it's kinda hard, balancing everything to meet my 'submit-a-chapter-everyday' quota, but I do it. And when I can't, at least you know I'm working on it. An thanks for the title btw, although it doesn't sound right. I'll have to rethink that, but I think I'll use yours for now. x3 And congrats on joining FFN! 8D
Pancake3298: Yes, time flies so fast, really. This thing is, like, 20 years into the future, and I even made some special timeline for everything! xD . But I figured that, at the rate F1 and the modern world evolves and changes, it's not that so different. xD I don't really know; I'm not good with siblings, really. O.o I myself am an only child.
To set things straight, Marlene and Margo are first cousins, connected by their fathers being brothers. So that makes Ercilia and Gianfranco second cousins because of their mothers. x3 Sorry for the confusion.
Chapter Two
(Vivian's POV)
I stare around the unfamiliar surroundings. I don't know where I am or why I am here, but all I know is my father's friend is having a Christmas party. I blindly follow my parents because they're what keeps me from running for cover.
I don't really like crowds or parties. I'd rather stay and write stories or read books. I take after my mother really, and I want to be a lawyer someday, just like my mother. It's much better I stayed home, because I have never learned to be the life of the party, which is so unlike me because, as I am considered the great Lightning McQueen's daughter, I should be able to handle myself with confidence. Not really.
I've always cowered from the public eye. I don't have many friends; they're all on the other parts of the world. I talk to them because it's easier to talk when they can't see you. Love is out of the question; I can never really be able to stand up for myself in front of a guy.
"Viv, come out here," my mother says, and a gap opens between my parents as they introduce me to a friend. I fidget in protest, but she pulls me with her arm around me so I can't escape.
Instead of meeting the man's eyes, I simply tuck my hair behind my ear, looking somewhere else. But eventually, curiosity forces me to glance upward.
I'm amazed at the sight before me. He's like no other man I've seen.
I can imagine the build under the brown sweater he's wearing. I see his dark brown hair, the tips that spiked outward at the top turning golden brown in the warm white light. It's cropped at the sides, and only the front shows informality, and is only slightly cut. His arms, shown in the pulled-back sleeves, are strong and toned, like he's been working out. His smile earns him another from me, but it fades as he stares at me, and his lips are parted, like he's going to speak. In his eyes is disbelief, and I sadly look away.
He's never going to like me.
"Mother," I mumble, struggling from her hold, and she lets me go. She understands.
"Viv, this is Gianfranco S. Bernoulli," Dad says. "Son of your godparents Francesco and Marlene."
I only nod, still not meeting his eyes. "May I go?" I ask.
"Isn't that a little rude, Vivian?" my father growls at me.
I fidget, frustrated. "I don't want to…" My voice trails away.
"To what, dear?" Mother asks.
"I don't want to talk to anyone," I say finally. I don't want to hurt the man's feelings, but his face registers disappointment.
"Come on, Vivian; I'm sure the party will be fun," the younger girl beside him encourages.
"I don't need encouragement," I growl at her.
My mother slaps my arm. "Vivian!" she scolds, but I don't listen.
"That's alright, Auntie," the man in front of me says evenly. "I know when I'm not wanted." He turns. "Come on, Ercilia; let's see if we can find your father." With that, they slipped away.
"Vivian Jane!" my father growls. "That was incredibly rude!"
"But Dad, I don't want to talk to him," I say. "He doesn't want me."
He stares at me like I've grown a second head. "That's all? You think he doesn't want you?" he says. "Well, that's one of your more stupid excuses, right?"
"Dad, I'm-"
"You always say that!" he says. "You always say you're disinterested when there's a social event. You say people don't like you. And that's the reason people don't like you: because you don't make any effort to be interested," he says. "I'm disgusted with you, Vivian. I try my hardest to present you to the public like a lady and you just pull it down." He storms away.
"He's right, honey," my mother says. "This time, I can't help you."
"Some mother you are," I snarl at her, and leave.
I wander towards the table with drinks, and after picking up a mug of cocoa, I'm wandering again, this time towards a balcony that overlooked the town and its coastline.
I don't hear the footsteps behind me.
"It's more beautiful under the moonlight," a voice murmurs, and my head jerks around. It's the Bernoulli's son.
He has a glass of bubbling champagne in his hand, and he's walking casually towards me, his other hand in his pocket.
"Go away," I say, but he doesn't listen, and sides by me, his arm inches from mine.
"Vivian, please," he says, and I stare into warm brown eyes. I can't help feeling sweet and happy as I do so. "I just want to get to know you, just as I get to know Dad's other friends."
I look away from him. "I don't want you to," I murmur, my fingers tracing the tiled railing.
"Why not?" he asks.
Irritation fuels my anger. "I told you, I don't want you to get to know me!" I cry out. "Just go away and leave me alone!"
Surprise fills his eyes, followed by sadness. He glances away from my glare, but doesn't move from the spot. My anger fades bit by bit, until he answers. "Why are you so protective of yourself, Vivian?" His tone is insisting but soft and even.
My anger comes back to me even faster than I can truly comprehend. "Why are you insisting? Why do you want to know things about me? Do you think you can woo me like any other girl you try to woo?" I add, remembering a movie and a few of my friends' situations.
He's taken aback by the accusation. "Wha..? That's not what I'm doing!" he exclaims immediately.
"Well, it looks like it!" I say mindlessly.
This time, anger fills his gaze. "If you don't like me, then just say so," he growls at me, fire replacing the warmth that I liked. "You didn't have to be such a cagna about it." With one final glare he storms away.
I can feel the hurt in my chest. I don't want him to go. I never meant to hurt him. I just wanted him to back off.
And back off he did.
