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EmmaEmma sat up straight in the bed, breathing heavily. Glancing around, she was confused for a moment before the past couple of days' events settled back into her memory. She sighed and rolled out of bed. "I seriously need some water…" She muttered out loud, making her way downstairs. Entering the unfamiliar kitchen, her bare feet moved across the cool tile of the polished floor. The time was glowing brightly on the microwave. 3:32 AM. Stifling a yawn, Emma flicked on the lights and headed toward the nearest cabinet. Opening it, she frowned, and then tried the one next to it. No luck. "Where the hell does he keep his damn cups?" She mumbled almost incoherently. "Three cabinets to your left." A voice replied. Gasping, Emma spun around to face the voice. Justin was leaning nonchalantly on the doorframe, clad only in baby blue boxers. "Sorry if I scared you." He laughed, emerging from the shadows. "I was having trouble sleeping and I heard you come down here. I thought you might need something." She forced a faint smile. "Thanks. I was just thirsty, that's all." He nodded, watching as she filled her glass up with tap water from the sink. "You know, there's a fridge full of bottled water…" Emma laughed softly. "When you're poor like me, you can't afford expensive water. This tastes fine." Justin shrugged. "Suit yourself." They stood there in silence while she sipped her water. Justin cleared his throat. "What's your full name?" She eyed him suspiciously. "Why?" "I'm jus wondering… Why are you so defensive?" "I'm not defensive!" He chuckled. "Yes you are." Rolling her eyes at him, she sniffed. "My name is Emma Lee Peters." "That's a pretty name." "Whatever." "So why are you like this?" "Like WHAT?" She shot back. He sighed. "So scared to show yourself to anyone." She looked down, studying the countertop. "I… Okay, my parents died in a car crash when I was twelve. For the next six years, I was passed around from foster family to foster family like some used object that nobody wanted and everybody tried to get rid of. I guess I've just kinda… Not been open with anyone since they died." He looked at her for a long time, searching her eyes with his own, wanting so badly to wrap her in his arms and make her feel whole again. Sniffling, she averted her eyes. "I'm going to bed now." "Wait… Emma." "What?" "It's okay. I'm - I'm here for you." Pausing, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Everyone who has ever said that to me has left eventually. And you, Mr. Timberlake, are not any different." Justin looked utterly crestfallen. "You haven't even given me a chance…" "What's the point?" His face darkened, and he walked toward her. "You, Ms. Peters, need to treat people better." She cringed. "Don't call me Ms. Peters." "Okay, Ms. Peters." "Stop it! You sound like my boss!!!" "Then stop calling me Mr. Timberlake." Emma stared at him for a moment, then turned toward the stairs. "Goodnight, Justin." "Goodnight."
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