Tidal Pools and Stars

Chapter 2

June 13

10 a.m

"How was the floor last night?"

George shrugs, taking a loud bite of his apple, before saying, "It was fine."

The conversation was dry since George didn't want to admit that sleeping on the hotel floor was a bad idea, but Dream could see how uncomfortable his friend was sitting with eyebags darker than they were yesterday.

"You sure?" Dream asks, raising an eyebrow. "You look kinda rough, George."

"Thanks, Dream, but I'm good," George responds. Dream shakes his head as George tries, and fails, to stifle a yawn.

"Well, I slept great. The bed is made of feathers and clouds or something," Dream says.

"That's great."

"You could've joined me," Dream offers before rushing to add, "there's a million pillows, so we could make a wall-"

"I'm not sleeping in the same bed as you."

"Hey," Dream jabs his spoon in George's direction, "all I'm saying is that you don't have to sleep on the floor. I won't say anything."

George rolls his eyes at him, but he sighs. "Whatever. Do you have any rubbish to throw out?"

"Ooh, 'rubbish.' You want some tea with your crumpets too, your majesty?" Dream teases. George stares at him, unamused with Dream's joke, which made Dream laugh awkwardly and he slides George his empty cereal bowl across the small table they sat at. George doesn't pick it up. "Oh, come on, it was a joke, George!"

George stands and gathers his trash, ignoring Dream's in front of him. "I don't care! You made fun of me."

"I made fun of your accent."

"Same thing! You can take your own trash, Dream," George snaps, making sure to mock Dream's voice on the correction. Dream groans and looks up at the glass ceiling of the resort dining hall, staring boredly up at the blue sky. It was way too early for this.

Except it wasn't early at all. The resort stopped serving breakfast in thirty minutes, but that didn't stop couples from rolling in like herds of sheep. Dream liked to play the guessing game of who's been here for a while and who's just arrived because it was so painfully obvious to him. Mainly because he and George had the same reaction as the other new arrivals- all of them gawking up at the glass dome ceiling with a large spinning moon hanging in the center over a large fountain. Ivy and vines fell down in curtains of green over the golden walls of the dining hall and in the very back, in complete contrast to the fanciness of the rest of the interior, the food line looked like a high school cafeteria. It was underwhelming, but whatever. He got his cereal and George got his bagel.

"Dream, come on, pick up your stuff," George urges.

"No. You offered, so you should take it."

"I'm not taking your nasty bowl after you made fun of me, that's not-"

"Please?" Dream lifts his head and they stare each other down. George wasn't budging, though, and his friend crossed his arms and stared down at him in a deadpan. "You're serious?"

"Yes! You can walk the ten feet and put it in the bin."

Dream groans again and looks at where the dish drop off counter was. "I don't wanna."

"Wow, we've been at this resort for..." George checks the large clock on the wall behind him, "not even 24-hours, and you're already too good to put your dishes away."