chemical bonds / 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥

ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ ⁷

                                              George's Pov

        6:34 PM

       A thud startled me back awake. My consciousness left me susceptible to the cold drafts of the living room. I had managed to fall asleep only wearing a towel. It wasn't like me to drift off that easily but I also hadn't had a real sleep in days. I propped myself up on my arms and looked over my shoulder to the kitchen where Clay had his back to me. 

             "What was that?" I asked groggily.

              "Oh you're up," he replied as he turned to face me. His eyes moved down to my bare chest before he awkwardly returned to his food preparation.

               "Wilbur offered to just drop the bags off himself, I'm just making dinner."

       I pulled myself into a sitting position and turned my nose to the familiar smell wafting through the first floor. Pulling myself together to the best of my ability I got up and walked over to the kitchen. Clay was patiently standing over a large pot. He turned to me, exposing a wide grin.

              "S'getti," he said proudly.

              "What?" I asked through a confused laugh.

      He ignored my question and looked at me again with narrowed brows.

              "Aren't you freezing? Here." He said as he once again acknowledged my towel. Before I could object he unzipped his sweatshirt and pulled it over my shoulders.

              "I would even go as far as wearing pants," he added smugly.

      I snickered and went back to my things where I pulled on sweatpants then quickly returned to the kitchen. I pulled out a chair for myself at the small table and contently watched Clay continue the meal.

              "We're really running low on food," he remarked as he rummaged through the fridge, "but I guess we'll be gone soon anyway."

      Suddenly I remembered our timeline. I couldn't hold it against Tommy but these were not exactly the conditions I had considered when the trip began. It dawned on me that Clay would be leaving really, really soon- how could I manage when we were divided by an ocean. Somehow I knew it wouldn't be as easy as before, somehow having seen him, felt him, would make it all the more difficult to be separated.

             "You could come stay with me." I blurted out.

     Clay turned to face me, exposing a surprised expression.

              "I'm sorry that was so random I know you have a flight I just wish we had mor-"

              "Yes, yes I would love to." He responded, cutting me off.

         I stared back at him, frozen with shock. I knew I had it in me to cry happy tears right now, but he couldn't see me that way. He thought I saw him as a friend, and for right now I couldn't let that reputation change. I couldn't be an over enthusiastic little puppy-dog. Hold yourself together, George.

             "Well- great! I guess we can drive back to Brighton tomorrow then?"

             "Perfect," he said, breaking our eye contact and turning back to the now bubbling pot.

         He hummed a song as he stirred the pasta, playfully patting the side of his thigh to the beat. In the quiet moments I couldn't help but catch myself admiring his quirks, his every move and tick. And I knew what this meant, I was falling deeper. 

        I hated myself for it, I wished I could turn it off and see things as platonically as he did. Inviting him to Brighton felt like buying time for a move I could never make. It was inevitable that he would be out of my reach soon, probably into some girls arms even sooner after that. I wanted to be her, an eye he could meet.

      Startling me, Clay rushed over holding two steaming plates of Spaghetti out in front of him.

               "Ta da!" He said as he placed it in front of me.

               "You've outdone yourself." I replied.

      The moment he sat down he was already clearing his plate. I looked down and began the twirl my pasta around the plastic fork, bringing the slightly undercooked noodle to my mouth.

      Clay, now up for air- rested his elbow on the table.

              "My first date was at an Italian restaurant," he began.

              "Oh? How'd that go?"

              "Well at one point she tried to do the Lady and the Tramp thing."

             "So no second date?"

             "No second date." He said, shrugging and then returning to his plate.

         My mind wandered as I pictured us at that restaurant. This time he wouldn't awkwardly decline, he would follow the noodle until our lips met.

        Authors note:

Don't remind me how cringey that was but it's like 1:00 AM right now so cut me some slack >:)