The Ribbon Campaign

eighteen || of swimming and hotels

When we pick up Bryce (at four in the morning) he greets us with a mumbled greeting and promptly falls back asleep two minutes into the ride. I've never been able to sleep in cars, so I just stick my ear buds in and watch the scenery around us slowly blur together as we drive by. My mom and I make small conversation but after she realizes I'm getting annoyed from having to take out my headphones and ask her to repeat what she said every five minutes, she drops it.

We sit in silence and although I'm really tired and there are a few times I actually do think I'll fall asleep, I never do. Bryce, meanwhile, snores through the whole ten hour drive, only waking up when we stopped to get some food. I don't know how he does it, and when I told my mom that she just snorted and said, "Boys will be boys."

Finally, we arrive to the hotel and I'm practically bouncing in my seat. We're not in the heart of New York since hotels would be way too expensive and there would be too much traffic. Still, it's New York City; there's practically nothing that can tone down my excitement at this point.

I shake Bryce awake, not caring when he groans and tries to slap my hands away. I just continue to shake him until he finally sits up, blinking away the blurriness in his eyes as he looks around the car and eventually out the world. "Whoa," he mutters, "I slept ten hours?"

I snort; he doesn't even realize waking up to eat. He was half asleep while munching his sandwich, anyway, so I'm not surprised. "Yeah, I can't believe it either," I snort.

"Come on, we have to meet Maurice Doug here," my mother says, unbuckling her seatbelt and stretching her sore legs. I do the same, waiting for Bryce to come help me with getting the suitcases from the trunk. Bryce, though he still looks sleepy, raises his eyebrows at me as we close the trunk. My mom is ahead of us, on the lookout for Maurice.

"What do you think he's going to look like?" I ask.

Bryce shrugs. "Fat, beer belly, bald. Isn't that what most Maurices look like?"

I roll my eyes and shake my head at his comment. I'm about to tell Bryce to not be so stereotypical (even though I've never actually heard of that stereotype) when my mother shouts, "Ellie, Bryce, here!"

We follow her voice through the small crowd outside and walk into the hotel. You can tell that it's an expensive hotel; whether it's from the velvet, cushiony sofas in the longue or golden chandeliers hanging from tall ceilings, it's not secret.

My mom approaches us with a man beside her. Right away, I know who it is; Maurice. But he looks nothing like Bryce- and admittedly, I- thought he would. Maurice is tall, towering over all of us, with body-building muscles and a sleeve of tattoos decorating his whole right arm. His blonde hair is short and evenly trimmed on the top of his head. When he smiles, his white teeth practically sparkle. He holds out his hand to me, "You must be Ellie, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"You too," I smile, trying not to look intimidated by his huge size (I swear, he's probably taller than Bryce and I stacked on top of each other).

"I'll let you guys get settled in the hotel room- I know it must have been quiet the drive. Why don't we talk over dinner, my treat? I'll meet the three of you down here at seven-thirty?"

"That'll be perfect, thank you Mr. Doug."

"Call me Maurice, please," he says before they shake hands.

My mother goes to the front to check us in and grab the key for the hotel rooms. They're on the second floor, so we take the elevator. Bryce gets a room for himself, obviously. His is before ours so after my mother makes sure Bryce's key opens his door, we make our way down the hall a bit more and eventually find ours.