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I woke up to someone pushing my curtains aside and letting light burst into my room.
“Nooo!” I cried, flinging the blankets over my head. “Five more minutes.”
“Honey, come on. It’s time to get up.”
I kept my eyes closed. Surely this was just a dream.
“Come on, sweetheart. We have to get a move on if we want to be able to spend any time on the beach today.”
There it was again, my mother’s voice. Although, that can’t be right since I can’t even remember the last time I have seen her in the morning, let alone have her wake me up herself.
I slowly removed my sheets from my head to see if it was, in fact, my mother. Low and behold it was her and all her white dress, perfect hair and makeup beauty.
I sat up slowly looking around for video cameras, seeing if I was getting punk’d. Nope, no video cameras. Maybe this is a dream. I pinched myself on the arm. “Ouch!”
“What was that, sweetheart,” my mother asked with an oddly chipper voice.
“Nothing.” Well I guess this isn’t a dream then.
My mother glided across the room and sat on my bed beside me. “I have a present for you,” she said as she placed a shopping bag from this ridiculously expensive boutique in front of me.
I eyed her suspiciously as I slowly reached into the bag and pulled out a gorgeous bikini. It was a baby blue color bandeau with ruffles on the top. My eyes widened in surprise.
“Since you hadn’t gone swimsuit shopping yet this year I thought I would give you this one to start you off. Anyway, with all the time we will be spending a lot of time together on the beach I didn’t want you to be seen in last summer season’s swim attire.” I rolled my eyes. Just my mother keeping up appearances. However, I didn’t miss the ‘we will be spending a lot of time together’ part. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe this time she won’t spend all her time with some young tennis instructor at the club. Maybe this time we will actually have a ‘family’ vacation.
“Get ready to go,” she continued, “We will leave in two hours.” She patted my knee beneath the covers before getting up and leaving.
I ran around getting ready because I wanted to get some reading time in before the long drive without Internet except on my phone, which is not an ideal reading device. After an hour and twenty minutes of showering, shaving (we were going to the beach after all), changing, putting on makeup, and packing, I was all ready to go. I flopped down on top of my bed, grabbed my laptop, went to my favorite site in the world, and started to read.
“Then you obviously don’t mind this being over. We did agree on that, right? Being together until you got enough notice to be on the International Team. Congratulations, Jacobs….you got what you wanted.” James growled, turning and putting his bowl in the sink. He didn’t turn back towards me. “You can go now.”
God, I love this story. It is ‘A Woman's Guide to Professional Quidditch’ by ScarletRoses. It is about this girl, Gigi Jacobs who gets onto the same professional quidditch team, the Falcons, as James Potter. They fake date, hook up, and are obviously in love with each other, except Gigi just doesn’t know it yet. Come on, Gigi! Get it into your thick skull that James has feelings for you and you have feelings for him! So many times I just wish I could go into a story and give one of the characters a well deserved slap, tell them to get their shit together, and walk out. Alas, I unfortunately cannot do that. Sigh.
“Georgia, it is time to go!” I hear my mother’s voice carry from downstairs.
Nooo! Only two more chapters to go until I catch up!
I grumbled a little but eventually got off my bed, slipped my laptop into the outside pocket of my suitcase, grabbed all my stuff, and went downstairs.
***One painstakingly slow car ride later.***
I opened the car door, stepped out, put my hands over my head, and stretched. I reached in the car and pulled out my ridiculously huge suitcase and lugged it up the many stairs to reach our front door. Since my parents were still at the car, arguing over some trivial thing, I had to search around my purse for my keys. It took about a minute of shifting this around (I really needed to clean out my purse) before I found my keys and unlocked the door.
It was obvious the maids had been here earlier because everything was spotless and all the windows where open to get fresh air into the house. I took a deep breath. God, I love beach air.
I went up another staircase, lugging my suitcase behind me, to get to my room. I heaved my bag onto my bed and took a deep breath. Of course, I had way over packed again so that thing weighed a shit ton. No, not just a ton. It weighed a full shit ton. There’s a difference.
“Georgia, hurry up and unpack. I would like to get a start on my tan today. It wouldn’t hurt if you did too,” my mother hollered from downstairs. Despite the fact that she refuses to call me G and that she practically just called me pasty, I couldn’t help being excited. For once in I don’t even know how long, my mother was actually going to spend time with me at the beach.
I rushed around my room, putting my clothes in their appropriate draws or hanging them up, before quickly getting into that new bathing suit my mother had just gotten me. I looked in the mirror and thoroughly liked what I saw.
It was push up so it made my normally alright boobs look amazing, it made my blue eyes look darker in comparison to the light blue on the suit, and all that dieting my mother had been making me do along with seeing a trainer four times a week had really paid off because I looked hot!
And for all those asking why I am fawning over a bathing suit, asking ‘Isn’t that her mother’s job.’ You would be incorrect. Just because my mother loves clothes and fashion doesn’t mean she has a monopoly on the interest. It is really the one thing that my mom and I bond over. Hence the over packing.
I gave my hair a quick brush through, freshened my makeup, and threw all I needed into my beach bag before flying down the stairs at an inhuman speed with a smile on my face.
Needless to say, I was happy.
I got down stairs to see my mother still in her dress and on her phone, sitting at the breakfast table. I sat my stuff down and took my phone out. It seems like I would have to wait for my mom to get ready.
I had just finished a game of Flappy Bird on my phone when my mother finally finished her phone call.
“Georgia, sorry dear, but it looks like I can’t tan with you today. Helen just called and she is at the beach as well. We are going to play a round of tennis before having drinks.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” I heard myself say. Stupid mouth, why did you say that? It is most definitely not okay!
“That’s the spirit,” my mother said, getting up, kissing me on the cheek, before going upstairs to get changed for tennis.
Hot tears sprung up. No. I am not going to let my mother make me cry. I looked up at the ceiling, blinking, until they finally went away. I took a deep breath and all my sadness was replaced with anger. I felt like throwing something. However, if I did then my parents would find out that one of their five hundred dollar lamps was broken a long with what happened and I didn’t want them to know I felt this way.
I don’t know why I didn’t want them to realize that they were being horrible to me because then they might have changed. But at the same time, maybe they wouldn’t. And that would make things all the more worse. At least now I live in the ignorance and hope that maybe they don’t truly comprehend their actions.
I grabbed my bag and a beach chair and went out of my house, pounding my way down the stairs. At least our house was on the beach so I didn’t have to walk far before slamming my chair into the sand and dramatically flopping down into it. I clenched and unclenched my hands to dissipate some of the anger.
“Are you alright?”
I whipped around to see a guy sitting about fifteen feet away from me, looking at me in concern.
“I mean, you look like you would like to throw a couple large items at a wall.”
I looked at him with a raised brow. When I didn’t respond he continued saying, “That’s cool. If you don’t want to talk about it with some random stranger, that is. But if you do decide to throw something, don’t do it in my general direction, please,” he finished, throwing a grin my way.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied warily. I looked at him for just a second more before turning back to a beautiful view of the ocean. Not like the other view was bad. Not at all. In fact, it was a pretty good view. The guy was kinda hot. And by kinda I mean really. He was tall with dark hair that went in several directions and he had some great abs. Good Lord Jesus, he is a fine specimen of a boy. Mmmmhumm.
Well that wasn’t creepy at all.
I really need to stop being creepy.
List of things that G needs to do:
1. Stop being creepy.
2. Hook up with Hottie McHotterson over there.
3. Disregard step two and repeat step one.
To help with step one I decided to get my mind off of Mr. McHotterson. So, I reached in my bag and got out the book that I was currently obsessed with (although less so than HPFF so I rarely read it): Game of Thrones. Well to be exact, A Strom of Swords, the third book in A Song of Ice and Fire series which is more commonly known as Game of Thrones because of the excellent TV show on HBO.
I just read about the Red Wedding (which I already knew about since I watch the show- despite it being a big sin in literature to ‘watch the movie before reading the book’) and so I have almost caught up with the show and I am really excited to find out thing I wouldn’t find out in the show until April 6th. Curse you, long breaks between seasons!
“I see you also have rather good taste in books.”
I looked back over to Mr. McHotterson to see him hold up A Feast for Crows, the fourth book in the series.
“And I see that you like to bud into other people’s business.”
“That I do,” he replied smirking.
I shook my head slightly and rolled my eyes before returning to my book. However, before I re-found my place I heard what sounded like a chair being put down in the sand and looked over to see that Mr. McHotterson had gathered all his stuff and was now five feet away from me.
“So what part are you at in the book?” He asked with an excited look on his face.
“Right after the Red Wedding,” I replied, amused with the situation I had found myself in.
“Oh, that was horrible wasn’t it? I remember throwing the book at my wall after reading it.”
“Well it wasn’t that bad for me, I watch the show so I already knew what happened.”
He dramatically gasped and put a hand over his heart. “How could you?! You watched the show before reading the book! It is the sin amongst sins! I thought you were a different person, but after this… I’m not so sure. I must get away before your vileness begins to rub off on me,” he concluded while leaning away from me in his chair.
I began to laugh. I don’t know if it was because he was just so ridiculous or because all the emotions I have been feeling all day have just set me on a emotional rollercoaster, but before I knew it I was laughing so hard no sound was coming out and I was clapping my hands looking like a retarded seal. Then Mr. McHotterson started laughing at me. And then we were both laughing at absolutely nothing and it felt so good.
After a while I finally gained enough composure to ask through my laughs, “Mr. McHotterson, are you laughing at me?”
“Mr. McHotterson?” He asked raising his eyebrows before beginning to laugh again. I blushed after I figured out what I had done. “Well now I certainly am,” he continued whilst laughing.
I smacked him on the arm.
“You know, you hit like a girl.”
I smacked him again.
“You still hit like a girl.”
“Well, whatever your name is, I doubt you could do any better.”
“Really,” he asked, raising one brow before lifting up his arm and flexing. Damn, that boy sure does work out.
“Got these from qui- rugby.”
“You play rugby.”
“Yeah, sort of.”
“Well I haven’t met anyone from around here who plays rugby.”
“Well that’s because I’m not from around here, love.”
Of course, that’s when I noticed his accent. Stupid slow brain, making me seem stupid and slow. (And yes, I do know that that is redundant.) “Let me guess,” I say cockily, trying to cover up the fact that I was blushing like crazy, “England?”
“Right on the dot, love.”
“So what is you name anyway?”
“James. And you are?”
“Well my full name is Georgia but I hate it, so everyone just calls me G.”
“Well Georgia,” I glowered at him. “Do you live here?”
“No, I live right outside of Charlestown, South Carolina.”
He nodded in response.
“So why are you here, Mr. I’m from England?”
“Sounds extremely exciting.”
“It really is. So, what are you doing here, Miss I’m from right outside Charlestown, South Carolina?”
I rolled my eyes. “Family vacation.”
“Sounds extremely exciting.”
“It really is.”
We both started laughing.
“Don’t call me Georgia.”
“-How is you extremely exciting family vacation going so far?”
“Not all that extremely exciting.”
“Yup,” I reply, popping the ‘p.’
I turned and looked out into the ocean. I tried to stop myself from thinking about everything. Everything that was happening with my family. Everything that I would have to return to in just a couple hours. I needed something to get my mind off everything.
“You know what,” I say turning to James. “Let’s get out of here.”
“This is your car?” James asked incredulously.
“Well my beach car, yeah.” James raised an eyebrow. “Instead of spending time with me, my parents give me money to spend,” I say, shrugging. James had thrown on a t-shirt he had been carrying and I had taken my cover-up out of my bag and we were now standing in the driveway in front of my house.
We hopped into my red Jeep Wrangler, or as I like to call him, Jimmy the Jim-ster. Jim for short. I turned the car on before fiddling with the radio to blast country music. I pulled out of the driveway and headed into town.
“I’ve never heard this song before,” James shouted over the music.
“You’ve never heard Wagon Wheel?” I asked surprised.
“Well we don’t exactly listen to country back in England,” he shot at me.
“Well maybe you should,” I shot back, grinning.
It took about twenty minutes to get into town and get a parking spot. As soon as we got out of the car, James spotted an ice cream shop and pulled me into it. We walked around town, eating our frozenly delicious treats.
“What’s it like in London?”
“It’s a lot different than here. For one thing it’s a lot colder there.” I nodded in response. “Another thing I have noticed from the small amount of time I have been here is how people are a lot nicer but nosier.” I snorted in reply, thinking just back a couple minutes ago to the ice cream shop where a lady had told us what a cute couple we were before asking how long we were dating and if we were in love yet. She then went on to tell us about her first love, this guy named John, and how he ended up breaking her heart.
“You know, not everyone is nosy like that one woman.”
“Suuurrree. I think you are just trying to win me over for the sake of your home country.”
“Yup, you found me out. I secretly go around finding people from different countries and try to make them fall in love with America and never want to leave.”
He rolled his eyes.
“But anyway, back to London,” I say.
“London’s great,” he begins, “But I actually don’t spend that much time there.”
“I thought you said you lived there.”
“Well I do, but I go to boarding school up in Scotland.”
“You go to boarding school?”
“Do you like going to a boarding school?”
“Most of the time.” He smiles slightly to himself.
“Do you ever get homesick.”
“Not really.” He shrugs. “It’s kind of hard to when you see a family member around every corner.” He laughs at my confused face. “My mom was one of seven. We have a huge family and everyone of age goes to school there.”
“Must be nice.” I mutter.
James slips his hand into mine. I look at him confused and he just shoots me a grin and squeezes my hand in response. We walk along the sidewalks in an easy silence before my back pocket starts buzzing. I pull out my phone to see that it’s my mother calling.
“Darling. I called to tell you that all of us will be going to a function at the club tonight. So please get off the beach at a reasonable time so you can get ready. Why don’t you wear that pretty, new pink dress you just bought with your nude heels and a pearl necklace? I think that will be very pretty. Ta ta, darling.” She hung up before I could even get one word in.
“What was that all about?” James asks.
“It was my mother. She wants me to go to some function at the club tonight.” I grumble.
James was silent for a minute. “Did you ever consider playing hooky?”
Disclaimer: I do not own ‘A Woman's Guide to Professional Quidditch’ by ScarletRoses (although I do recommend it), Flappy Bird which was created by Dong Nguyen, Game of Thrones which is written by George R.R. Martin, Jeep Wranglers, nor Wagon Wheel by Old Crow Medicine Show and Bob Dylan.
Hi guys! How did you like it? Think the conversations were too forced or were they good? See any mistakes? Please leave a review in the little gray box below, I really love gettine them. ^_^