𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝘼𝙐 , dreamwastaken+wilbursoot ✔

As she walks by . . .

George and I were still on the sidewalk, walking toward Clay, when he asked me.

"You wanna come with Clay and I?"

I fought to keep the disbelief out of my expression. "Come where?"

He shrugged, smiling. "We're going to the boardwalk to study. Because, you know, finals are coming up, and, well..." He laughed, a warm, bubbly sound. "I probably haven't been studying as much as I should be."

I watched him blankly for a moment, wondering if he was messing with me, but his eyes remained bright as ever. He was truly, genuinely asking me if I wanted to third wheel with him and Clay.

I mustered a smile, "Actually, I was just on my way home. Wilbur's waiting for me."

George nodded. "Your boyfriend, right? Wilbur?"

The nausea swirled unrestrained in my empty stomach. My heart felt as if my blood had become tar as it struggled to keep a steady beat. My new mood hung over me like a black cloud, raining my personal sorrow down on me. "Uh... yeah..." I said slowly. My head swarmed with half-formed regrets.

How the hell would he know? Even if he was wrong, it felt strange.

The question must have been written all over my face, because George gave another bubbly laugh. "I'm not a stalker, I swear. Wilbur's in my physics class, and you always seemed to be together." He glanced up; we'd nearly reached Clay, whose back was to us - thank god.

I needed to leave before he heard us.

"Listen, I really appreciate what you did." I said to George. "You know... saving me from that car."

"Well, of course!" He grinned. "Did you actually think I was about to stand there and let you get hit?" He playfully nudged my shoulder, his annoyingly deep brown eyes shining. "I think I like you, Y/n - we should hang out sometime."

There was nothing romantic in the statement; it was clearly a platonic comment, but it still felt like I'd been kicked in the chest. we should hang out sometime - like I wasn't Clay's ex, like we'd only just met, like we had no history at all. That was the most painful thing, I thought.

I wanted to like George, I really truly did; if we were in a different world, we might have been the closest of friends, but we weren't. I wanted to like him, but I couldn't.

I wish I could like you, George, I wanted to tell him as I moved out of sight, watching his expression brighten as Clay turned to see him, watching them walk by, watching him walk by. You did nothing wrong, you're perfect, and hell, I wish I could like you. But I can't.

I never can.