TAKE ME OVER | HENRY MILLS [1]

II. boston

"We're staying at a hotel tonight and heading to Storybrooke tomorrow," dad explains as we pile our luggage into the boot of the taxi.

We get seated into the warm taxi-van, dad sitting in the front beside the driver and speaking quietly to know. My father enjoys surprises; when we travel he always books the most lavish hotels he can afford, as travelling was such a rarity growing up. The drive is silent apart from dad speaking brightly to the driver, who seemed to not care about the strange man that sat beside my parents on the flight. The traffic is light in the city, but weirdly busy for such a late night.

The travel took near an hour, and by the time we pull up I near asleep, leaning against the window. The hotel in front of us is gorgeous, to say the least, with tall white walls and golden lights stood beside clear glass doors. Inside the doors, which were locked for safety, stood a security guard, who opened a small compartment in the door to speak to my father before swinging them open to allow us in.

The marbled floors are so clean I begin to feel guilty, as though I am going to dirty them. A marble fountain spouts water in the middle of the entrance, and paintings, which I did not recognise but were beautiful nevertheless, hung on the walls. This is the closest I will ever be to royalty, I think to myself. 

June and I sit on the bench beside the fountain, the running water reminding me of how desperately I need to pee. Caleb stands beside our mother, looking around the hotel curiously. Dad speaks to a middle-aged man as he signs in, and suddenly a girl, perhaps a year or so younger than myself, sits beside him at the next computer.

Caleb smirks and strides over, leaning casually against the desk as the blonde girl blushes and twirls her hair around her finger.

"He's back," June grumbles, I laugh.

Caleb slides over a piece of paper before we follow our parents into the elevator, a look of triumph on his face. June and I make faces at each other through the mirror of the elevator until we reach floor 18. June and I shoot out and fight to find our room first, a competition the three of us always had, and June groans and stomps her foot as I shout victoriously in as quiet a voice as I could muster.

Dad tosses the key to me from down the hall, him dragging my suitcase as well as his own, and mum doing the same with June's. I hurriedly scan the key card, June bouncing by my side and we run to find the bedrooms. The white-tiled kitchen sits beside the entryway, the living room and dining area in front of it, brightened by the moon which shines through the glass window on the other side of the room.

It's known that the master bedroom would be the only bedroom to the left of the room, so June and I charge right. Caleb, now seeming to burst with energy, catches up quickly. I grab the door handle to the far left, Caleb on the far right, and June in the middle. In sync, we swing the doors open and examine our rooms.

For the most part, they are identical, one large closet against the wall, a small desk, a large chair and a tv mounted to the wall. The difference? Caleb and I both have queen-sized beds, whilst June has two singles.

"What the fuck?" June groans.

"What do you think?" dad asks, bemused.

"It'd be better if I had one, big bed instead of two small ones," June grumbles.

"You can push them together, it said online it does that," mum pipes up.

"Can we live here instead of Storybrooke?" Caleb asks.

"Just cause you wanna chop in with the receptionist!" June calls, her voice strained as she tries to push the beds together.

"I wish, this place costs $500 for all of us to stay the night," dad laughs.