Shit, I'm Falling For A Weasley || George Weasley

Chapter 70 - In which butterflies are mercilessly annihilated

My stomach rumbles as I roll out another sleeping bag. In theory, there are multiple beds in this place, but the idea of sleeping in them just seems bizarre, for more reasons than one.

"Water?"

I clench the ends of the bag tightly as my heart rate attempts to go back to normal.

"Sorry," Fred smirks, as he hands me a bottle, not looking apologetic at all.

Scowling at him, I accept his offering. As expected he decides to take a seat rather than find his brother. After walking into an unfortunate situation, he's been trying to get me alone to talk about it. He stares at me expectantly, but I refuse to play his games. I'm an adult after all. I handle situations in a mature sophisticated manner.

"Is margarita okay?"

"It was just one kiss," I blurt at the same time as Fred. Dammit. I really have to stop doing that. My cheeks redden as a triumphant look crosses Fred's eyes.

"I was just going to ask if you're okay with the pizza choice, but if that's what's on your mind, then sure, we can talk about it," Fred shrugs. My hands ball into tight fists as I contemplate burning something, but the feeling vanishes. Though I would never let him know, Fred's right. I wanted to talk about it all ever since my hormones took over to stop George talking.

And boy am I glad they did...

Instead of pushing me away, he deepened the kiss. I mean that's one word for what happened.

"Shall I go get my brother?" Fred drawls making me realise I'm smiling like some giddy twelve year old with a schoolgirl crush.

The smile vanishes immediately, but when I meet Fred's eyes, I can't keep a straight face.

"Shut up," I mutter stonily, but even then, the smile creeps into my lips, causing Fred to roll his eyes. We sit in silence for a moment. I can't imagine what it must have looked like from his perspective. It was the smashing of two glasses of water that broke us apart. Fred's expression was unreadable, as was his tone when he suggested his brother go look for some food.

It was that moment it dawned on me what just happened. George and I kissed. For the first time after the memory block, we kissed. And so I did the most logical thing I could in that situation.

I ran to the garden.

It was only when it was sufficiently dark that I decided to venture back inside. I had a whole speech planned for George, but turns out Fred had sent his brother to go get pizza, a notion that my stomach heartily agreed with.

"Did it mean anything?" Fred asks snapping me out of my thoughts. I pause for a second. I used it as a distraction, as a means to stop George from talking abou- to stop talking. It was impulsive.

"He kissed me back," I reply, not really answering his question. Once George got over his initial shock, the light peck developed into something a lot more passionate than I anticipated. Almost two years of tension built up between us, just thinking back to it makes my stomach erupt in butterflies. Not the innocent crush type, more like the take-off-everything-now type.

"I mean, I could see that. But yeah, thanks for clarifying Lily," Fred rolls his eyes again, unimpressed with my reaction to this situation. But it doesn't take much for my mind to drift back to the way he wove his hand around my back and pulled me closer, his other hand weaving into my hair, kissing me back with such urgency that I completely forgot the reason I decided to do it in the first place. The question now is where is he, and how can we arrange to do that again?