Smoke Break /Georgenotfound/

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Around 8 in the evening, I heard the sounds of the girls leaving their house, and it felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

Later, when George and Nick returned, I secretly peeked through the curtains, making sure no more girls would come out of the car with them.

Luckily, there weren't any this time.

Around 9 p.m., I noticed the familiar sight of smoke drifting toward my window from George's balcony. I sighed, annoyed by the thought of him smoking again, and decided not to step outside.

My decision also included cleansing myself from him for the rest of the day to see if that would help to prevent dreaming about him at night.

But I wanted to see him so bad.

Even after he had finished his cigarette, he remained on the balcony. My delusions got the best of me, making me believe that he was waiting for me. But if he truly wanted to see me, there were many other options. He could have knocked on my door or came up with some other way.

If he wanted, he would. So I won't move a muscle.

Around 11 p.m., I heard knocking, but it wasn't at my door; it sounded distinct enough for me to think that it might have been their door. They had probably ordered food or something else, cause it sounded like a delivery.

Or maybe they invited girls over. Again.

As if it's any of my business..

Out of sheer boredom, I began to brush my hair. It's a once in a month occurrence and requires many many products to prevent the brush from snapping in my curls.

Sacrifices were made, and my hand ended up cramping, but at least it looked good when I was done and hopefully would last another month.

I was uncertain how to pass the night, but one thing was clear: sleep wasn't in the options. As I started to come up with different activities to fill my time, a distinct thump broke the train of my thoughts. Intrigued by the sound and how close it sounded, I made my way towards the balcony to investigate.

I thought a bird died and fell onto my balcony. But it wasn't a bird, and it was pretty much alive.

Is he being serious?

I opened the door swiftly and stepped out with widened eyes, jaw hanging open when I saw George on my balcony, completely uninvited.

"Are you out of your mind? What are you doing-"

My words got stuck in my throat as I saw that he was holding something.

"You're insane-" the shock I was experiencing was a saving grace, canceling any hint of a smile on my face.

It was a bouquet of chocolate covered strawberries. Two of my favorite things combined. And it looked so good. Even better cause he was the one holding it.

"I saw this and it reminded me of you, so I got it for you," he casually explained, as if what he was saying wasn't the cutest things anyone could ever do.

"George.." I was out of words. The fact that he remembered that I love chocolate covered strawberries? The fact that he thought of me when seeing them? And then actually went out of his way to bring them to me in the middle of the night?

My cheeks turned pink, and I couldn't help but look away, my hand flying to cover my grin. I was hoping the wind would blow my hair right onto my face and shield it from his gaze, letting me have my silent fluster session in private.

"The whole purpose of this was to see you smile, and you're hiding from me?" I could hear the grin in his voice, and it made my heart beat even louder in my chest.

"I'm not hiding," I replied, lowering my hand and tilting my head slightly. But instead of meeting his gaze, I chose to look upward. And I knew for a fact I was redder than those strawberries.

"Aww," he was making it worse on purpose, and I knew he'd tease me about it if I kept blushing and being shy about it, "you're so cute."

"Shut up," I looked at him, his wide grin having the potential of making him look like an actual sunshine if there wasn't the distinct hint of cockiness in it, "I hate you."

"Finally someone who's as bad at showing affection as me," he laughed softly, "I hate you too, darling."

Only he could come up with that ironic of a sentence yet deliver the message perfectly.

Before I would die on the spot from how he made me feel, I took the bouquet from his hands and motioned him to follow me.

"You gotta come in and help me finish this cause my fridge is filled to the brim," after my today's trip to the store and stress shoping, I couldn't make space for this even if I dissected it. And I didn't want the chocolate to melt overnight.

"I'll come in and watch you finish it, cause I don't like strawberries," he said it in one breath, mimicking the way I delivered my sentence because of how nervous I was.

I rolled my eyes, still not believing how could someone dislike this.

"I'll feed them to you," letting the words escape my mouth, I opened the door, my eyebrows pulling together a little as I made a questioning face at the way my own sentence sounded. Good thing I couldn't see his face. Bet he was smirking.

He settled onto the couch, his body relaxing into a comfortable slouch, occupying the same spot where he had fallen asleep earlier today.

I placed the strawberries on the table and brought a plate, realizing that I probably needed to remove them from the skewers they were impaled on.

"I must be fucking up your sleep schedule real bad, huh?" He liked to tease me about having a strict bedtime, but there was an undertone of seriousness in his words this time. He was aware that I preferred to be in bed by midnight, yet our late-night meetings often disregarded my usual schedule.

"I napped in the afternoon, don't worry," I smiled, carefully placing the last strawberry onto the plate and tidying up the wrappers.

"Wow.. I slept for an hour in the morning and that's it, we're worried about the wrong person."

I was surprised how his body was still functioning.

"Aren't you tired now?"

"I'm always tired but never can sleep," he shrugged, "I'll be fine."

Something came to my mind, and I blurted it out, following it immediately with a brief moment of regret.

"They say when you can't sleep, you're awake in someone else's dreams."

If my words hadn't given it away already, then my sudden shift in demeanor certainly did. My smile vanished, and I cleared my throat, silently cursing myself for having no control over my mouth.

He smiled, raising a brow and shifting in his seat. I always felt like he knew, even when he asked me about my dreams earlier. And now I was more than sure that he knew.

"Then whoever is dreaming of me should stop and let me sleep."

If only things were that simple. I gazed at him, noticing his smile becoming more subtle as our eyes met and gradually fading away as the eye contact lingered.

"It's not like they can control it." My voice took on a soft tone, almost as if I was explaining myself - guilty for potentially keeping him awake.

I was taken aback when he chose to drop the subject. I was expecting him to dig deeper and push on me for more details, yet he simply offered a small smile, as if he understood how much the recurring dreams were bothering me.

I glanced aside, searching for a way to switch the subject. And the strawberries caught my eye.