thirty-six hours with you | georgenotfound x reader

18. the gas station

I sit on the motel's bed as I have for the past couple hours. The rain is still constant outside the window, becoming a comforting background noise.

A movie plays on the TV. It's the fourth one today, so the plots are starting to mix together into one big mash. I reach my hand to the middle of the bed where George has propped a bag of chips.

I allowed George to sit in the bed with me exactly three movies ago. At first, he had tried to nap and watch his own shows on his blanket pallet, but the floor wasn't very comfortable.

But George didn't want to admit defeat three and a half movies ago, so instead he paced around the room eating from the snack bag I had brought on the trip.

His pacing interfered with my movie-watching, especially when I was still interested in the first one, so I had politely asked, "Could you either sit down or pace down the halls? I can't watch my show."

George stopped in his tracks, swallowing whatever he had been snacking on. "Sit where?"

I shrugged, moving to the right so I could see the screen behind him. "Wherever you want? Freedom of sitting, I guess."

George's gaze slowly goes to each of his three options: the blanket pallet, the ottoman, then, finally, the bed I had been sitting on.

My eyes watched the gears in his head contemplating his options. I knew he wouldn't ask himself for the comfiest choice of the three.

"What?" I asked.

"Hm?" He raised his brows innocently.

I shook my head, not falling for his charade. "Just ask, George."

His throat rolled as he swallowed once. "Can I sit on the bed with you?" he asks, giving in, "Just for a little while so that my back doesn't hurt from the floor."

I laughed at his long explanation. I moved a pillow over to the middle of the bed as a barrier. "Two rules," I explained, "Stay on your side and don't leave crumbs."

He nodded at my directions and sat down. He pulled a blanket around his legs, but he never tried to get under the covers.

Then we continued to watch three more movies together, and we haven't moved since.

The credits roll across the screen. I don't bother reaching for the remote because I know my brain can't take another movie, no matter what genre we picked.

George sighs loudly before shifting his weight to completely face me. I turn my head to see what he has to say. His hands rest on the pillow between us.

"Can we get something to eat besides potato chips and stale saltines?" he asks. "I'm starving."

I laugh, understanding what he means through my own stomach growling for something other than snacks.

I glance towards the crack of the curtains. The rain has no sign of stopping, but it's definitely lighter than it was a few hours ago. "We don't have a car," I remind him.

"Ubers are a thing," he says, "or there's a gas station."

"Gas station?" It sounds vaguely familiar, but I don't know what type of food it would have.

"Yeah, there's one right over there, remember?" George points in the general direction.

I nod, recalling the distant lights in the rain. "Okay, do you want to go now?"

He sits there for a second before patting the area around him. "Where's my phone?"

He finds it buried in blankets before pulling up a weather app. "Looks like..." He studies the app's predictions. "Now's probably the best time to go over there really quick."