"My mom has a chocolate fetish," Farrah clarified.
"It keeps my creativity flowing," Samantha said, walking over to her husband so she could pick the chocolates she wanted. "Rain, would you like one?" she asked.
"Sure," I answered, joining them at their chocolate bar.
"Farrah?" she asked, looking at her daughter questioningly.
"I better not," she said, looking longingly at the tempting treats before self-consciously smoothing a hand over her curvy hips. "I can't afford it. Not if we're going to chow down on popcorn later."
From the corner of my eye, I watched her parents exchange a look. "God forbid you actually have a little meat on your bones," her father commented.
"Daddy, don't start," Farrah warned, beckoning me to follow her out of the room.
"It was nice meeting you," I called over my shoulder as I hurried after her.
"You too, dear," Samantha responded as I closed the door behind me.
"What was the deal-io there?" I asked as we climbed the stairs to the second floor.
"It's nothing. My parents just don't agree with my dieting," she sighed, pushing a set of double doors open that were right off the staircase. Following her into her room, I couldn't help the gasp of pleasure that left me. Here were the wall-to-wall bookshelves I had been expecting downstairs filled with hundreds of books.
"You read?" I asked, running a finger over some of the spines while checking out the titles.
She took a moment to answer before giving a minute nod.
"Me too," I confided.
She smiled like we were sharing a deep, dark secret. I had the impression it felt that way to her.
"Most of these titles I've never even heard of," I said, pulling one of the books off the shelf that had a dreamy-looking guy surrounded by smoke.
"The majority of them are signed. I usually go with my parents to their book events and most of their friends who write YA give me their books."
"YA?"
"Young adult. I'm a total YA fan," she said, sinking on one of the two chaise lounges in the corner.
"That's awesome," I said, enviously studying all the books. "It must be cool to go to the events. I've never even been to a signing."
"You could go with me sometime," she said shyly.
"Really?" I asked, sitting down next to her.
"Sure. I asked Leslie and Paris last summer, but they said they would rather poke their eyes out than surround themselves with a bunch of porn-writing book nerds. I tried to explain the difference in the genres, but I swear their eyes glazed over. I've learned to keep my mouth closed."
Her shyness suddenly made sense. In reality, she wasn't all that different from me. We both had our secrets. Of course, a love for books was a whole lot different than becoming a troublemaker to take the spotlight off your parents.
Farrah and I ended up spending the rest of the afternoon discussing our favorite books and writers. I had a major fangirl moment when I realized she had met my favorite author the previous year. I spent a few minutes drooling over her signed book that was also personalized before reluctantly handing it over.
"You can get your own copy when you go with me to the next big event."
I shook my head. "I'm not sure I can afford it. If you can't tell, our lifestyles are vastly different."
"Duh, you'd be my guest. My parents have been bugging me to bring a friend along for ages. They always feel bad about leaving me alone while they're on panels or in meetings with their agent or editors. They'd probably pay you to go," she joked, chucking a throw pillow at me. "I can already tell that my parents like you a lot. I actually think they like you a little more since you're not some diva princess. Both of my parents came from nothing. Until I was ten, we were pretty much poor. My dad was working two jobs and my mom worked as a counselor while they scrimped and saved to pay off their student loans so we could finally move out of the small apartment we were renting. I was twelve when their fourth book hit it big, and I guess you can say the rest is history," she said, flipping the channels with her remote.
"Seriously?" I asked, climbing on the other side of her king-sized bed.
"Seriously. That's why they don't fit in with a lot of the people around here. I don't see how being born with a silver spoon in your mouth makes you more worthy than people who worked their asses off to get where they are, but my parents get treated that way sometimes," she said in a huff.