"B, wake up." I shake Brendon gently, eyes still barely open from the blinding light outside our window.
He moaned something inaudible, turning around so his back is facing me. "Let's just stay in for a bit."
"It's already 12."
"Five more minutes." He yawns, reaching behind for my hand and wrapping it around his bare torso.
"We need to go see my mom today." I gently kiss his back.
"I know." He replies, and stops to think for a moment. "The earlier we go, the sooner we'll get it over and done with."
I don't respond, instead tuck my head into his neck, pressing a kiss against his jawline. "Okay. Can you order room service for us?"
"Yeah." He murmurs, and stands up to stretch his arms. I get a perfect view of his muscular back as he does so, and I smirk to myself, giggling slightly.
He rolls his eyes, picking up his shirt from the floor and tossing it in my direction. It lands on my face, making me laugh louder. He goes into the bathroom after calling for room service, and I throw on some suitable clothes and some makeup, before I collapse on the bed once more.
"Get up, fucker. We've got pancakes to eat and an angry mom to persuade."
"Five more minutes. And she's not angry." I remark, "Not all the time, at least. She's just a bit overprotective sometimes."
He raises his eyebrows, chuckling.
After room service arrives and we eat our delicious pancakes, we both decide to wander around the hotel for half an hour. Brendon almost pushes me into a pool, (which I was not happy about.) and throws souvenirs at my face, laughing loudly. By the time it's 12, we set off to find my mom.
"She said she's staying at Waldorf Astoria? We'll have to get a taxi there."
"Mmh. Okay. Right." Brendon nods, and signals for a taxi to stop by. We give the driver directions, going through a silent and tedious ride before we stop by a large hotel.
It's a stunning hotel - with a grand entrance, golden chandeliers and bouquets everywhere fit for a queen. We ask the receptionist for the room my mom is in, and after some useless questioning she tells us.
"Room 209. Where's that?"
"Up the stairs, I'm guessing? Hundred is all down here so..."
I nod, and we take the elevator upstairs, wondering down the hallways cluelessly.
"Here. Right here. 209. Yep. This is it. Okay." I say nervously, and Brendon squeezes my hand reassuringly.
I gather my courage, knock on the door, to hear my mom shuffling inside and fumbling through the lock. Her face lights up, a beaming smile appearing as she wraps her arms around me.
"Emma! How did you get here?" She squeals, hugging me tightly.
"That doesn't matter. I've missed you lot."
We stay silent for a moment, before I finally speak up.
"Mom. I need you to meet someone." I pull away, and Brendon emerges from the right.
"Em?" She says in confusion, and Brendon snakes an arm around my waist to which she widens her eyes at.
"This is Brendon, my boyfriend."
She remains quiet, the silence almost killing me.
"Is this why you got such a good grade in English?" She snaps. "How long has this been going on for?"
"Uh...about eight months." I say as more of a question that a statement.
"Oh Jesus..." She rolls her eyes. "And while you were in school?"
"Yeah..."
"Emma, can I talk to you?" She says, the looks at Brendon. "In private."
"Okay." I reply, raising my eyebrows. She pushes me inside her hotel room, closing the door behind us.
"So what is he doing? Forcing you? Abusing you?"
"What? No, mom. You don't get it."
"I don't think there's much to get here, Emma. You may be 18, but still - your high school teacher? Do you know what people will think of you?"
"Maybe I don't care what people think of me. I'm happy with him, that's all that should matter."
She shakes her head, rubbing her temples in frustration.
"I don't mean to interrupt." Brendon opens the door, stepping in. "But you should know, that I do love your daughter. I care for her as much as I care for myself. She means everything to me."
My mom closes her eyes, shaking her head once again. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood today."
I roll my eyes but don't say anything in response - it's best not to anger her anymore.
"How did you get here anyway?" She changes the subject, sitting down on the edge of her bed.
"Brendon both us plane tickets here for Christmas."
She groans, rolling her eyes mockingly at us.
"I'm guessing your mad at me?"
"I'm not mad at you. I'm just wondering how you could be so immature."
"Immature?"
"You're lucky no one found out about this whole you were in school. It could have harmed his career, and put a bad name on our family."
"A bad name on our family? I get that it was dangerous for Brendon, but is reputation really all that matters in this situation? I'm happy, mom. And I'm asking for you to be happy for me, too."
She stays silent, shaking her head in disappointment. "I don't want to have this argument right now."
"Neither do I." I say. "We're leaving."
"Emma."
"If you're going to say something about Brendon, or his career, or his age or whatever the fuck you don't approve of, I don't want to hear it." I turn around.
"I'm sorry about this." Brendon says to my mom as I storm out.
"Brendon." I say firmly.
My mom nods at him, giving him a slight smile before looking at me once again. "We'll talk about this later."