What if it Were Real
A/N This Chapter is just an introduction, the rest of the chapters will be much longer and more eventful than this one!
His grey eyes scanned Emily coldly, causing her to shift uncomfortably. The welcome was far from friendly, to say the least. She had to admit, she had hoped for more…
"… So James and you will have to share a room, Emily dear, I hope that isn't too much trouble for the two of you…" Her mother's words drifted into her reality, and it took her a couple of seconds to take in their meaning.
"What?" James demanded, flipping towards his own mother in the hope that she would contradict the statement. She offered him no comfort though, but simply shrugged her shoulders.
"Your father and I need a room to ourselves, and the same goes for Emily's parents. I'm sorry, but it's only a three bedroom cabin," Mrs. Hope apologized, yet with little sympathy.
Emily felt a slight wave of indignity. Why was it that some adults seemed to be under the impression that kids deserved no say in things? As long as the adults were satisfied, that seemed to be the only thing that truly mattered.
"You can't expect me to share a room with her," James spat, nodding towards Emily in a rage. "What about privacy?"
Emily bit her lip, suddenly feeling very in the way. "I could sleep on the couch…" she offered, avoiding eye contact with the boy she was steadily growing to dislike.
"Don't be ridiculous," Mr. Hope protested, shooting a daggers look at his son. Looking at the two of them, it was hard to believe they were related in any way.
James's steel grey eyes contrasted with his father's friendly chocolate brown ones, and he had clearly inherited his raven black hair from his mother, who looked to be of Spanish decent or something along those lines.
"James, it's about time you learnt to be a little more social," Mrs. Hope pointed out, a note of warning in her voice. James looked furious about being chastised in front of other people, but he wisely closed his mouth.
Shooting one last awkward glance at him, Emily picked up her suitcase and lugged it into what she took to be the room they were doomed to share.
The room was simply decorated, but still cozy. The wooden floor was decorated with a simple green and brown rug, to match the colour scheme of the rest of the room. Everywhere she looked there seemed to be green, blue and brown; green and blue bedspreads, green curtains, brown wardrobe…
Sensing someone behind her, Emily turned around to see James looking around the room stonily. "Which bed did you want?" she asked him, forcing a smile.
"This one will do," he muttered, throwing his bags onto the bed near the wall. She watched him for a few seconds, in the hopes that he might say something more. When he didn't, she turned instead to the window and pulled apart from the curtains, allowing light to stream into the room.
"It's snowing again," she noted brightly.
"I hate the cold," James replied, as he began to remove the contents of his luggage.
Emily sighed, lost for words. She'd never met anyone so difficult to get along with before.
"You know, we're going to be stuck here for two weeks-"
"Unfortunately," James cut in.
"So we may as well learn to put up with each other," Emily plowed on.
"I'm sure you'll find me very easy to get along with," James replied, smirking as he turned to look at her.
"What sort of music do you listen to?" Emily persisted, sitting down on her bed as she hooked her tops onto hangers.
"Heavy metal, rock, anything like that will do," James replied, lying down on his bed to get a feel of it.
Emily grinned; finally, here was something she could talk about.
"Same here, what bands do you like?"
James looked at her skeptically. "Girls don't like this sort of music," he stated, brushing her off with a disdainful glance. Emily's temper flared up.
"And how would you know what girls do and don't like, exactly? No wonder you're so oblivious about girls, if this is the way you treat people," she snapped.
James glared at her wordlessly for a moment, before digging through his bags until he located his mp3 player, which he then began to listen to, turning his back to her so he lay facing the wall.
"Can you sleep?" Emily asked, cautiously.
"Could you sleep with someone like you whining in your ear every five minutes?" James retorted.
Emily propped herself up on her elbows and faced James. In the darkness she could just barely make out his face. He was glaring at her accusingly, his pale eyes giving his face a ghostly look in the dim moonlight.
"What's the time?" Emily asked, ignoring his last comment. James sighed irritably, but checked his phone. As the light from the mobile illuminated his face, Emily saw that his raven hair was ruffled from lying on it on all sides in an attempt to fall asleep.
"Twelve thirty," he informed her. "Are you going to do this every night?"
"Are you?" Emily shot back. They glared at each other for a few seconds. James broke his gaze first, and rolled over to face the wall. Emily did the same, trying to block out the sound of his steady breathing, which was growing increasingly annoying to her.
"You'd look better as a blonde. You should dye it," James remarked suddenly.
Emily jumped and fingered a lock of her dark brown hair. "I can tell I'm going to like you," she muttered sarcastically. "You're so full of compliments."
"I'm guessing you're not one for constructive criticism," James noted, and Emily could tell from his voice that he was smirking once again.
"What's you're problem, exactly?" demanded Emily, hurt.
"I don't have a problem. It's not my fault if you think there's something wrong with my personality," James protested, and Emily could have sworn he sounded stung. Without replying, Emily grabbed her pillow and slammed it over her face.