𝐑𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐬 » 𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 (ON HOLD)

05. Firewhiskey

Elle tossed and turned in her bedsheets, having given up on sleep as she stared aimlessly at the ceiling. Every position she found herself in was uncomfortable, and it certainly didn't help that she could clearly hear Fred and Alicia fucking through the wall that sat between her room and Fred's.

She had tried putting a pillowcase over her ears and tried to muffle the noise, deciding that she would rather risk suffocation than listen to the persistent squeaking and moaning that was emitting through the wall and echoing through the room.

So much for her plans of having a date with her hand— hearing Alicia and Fred getting it on wasn't exactly a turn on, it was a complete mood killer.

So, she was left just as frustrated as she had been since that afternoon, much to her dismay. Elle groaned as the squeaking of the bed grew louder and she sat up and pinched the bridge of her nose out of frustration. All she wanted was sleep, and it was clear that it was going to be near impossible to get any.

They had been going at it like rabbits for hours now with just a few short breaks of silence in between, and they were still going strong. I mean, she was happy that her friend was getting some, but she wished she had gone deaf for the time being.

After a few moments, Elle decided she didn't want to sit by herself listening to the moans of the two lovebirds, which only reminded her of how lonely she was, so she got out of bed and walked to George's room in hopes that he would be up as well.

She tapped twice before receiving an answer, "Fred, I swear to bloody Christ if that's you— I already told you, I don't have any condoms!" George groaned from the other side of the door.

Elle laughed quietly, "Georgie, it's only me. Can I come in?"

"Thank god," a flood of relief fell from his voice, "Sure, it's open." Elle opened the door and shut it behind her.

George was lying on his bed wearing a t-shirt and grey sweats, and Elle almost forgot how to breathe. That tight fitting shirt and those pants? Have mercy. But even though her mind was telling her to look where she was most curious, she averted her gaze and sank onto his mattress.

"Scoot over, dingus."

George rolled his eyes before smiling and obliging, scooting to the other side of his bed so she could lie down as well.

Elle stared at the ceiling beside George and let out a small sigh, feeling better that she wasn't alone now.

"Couldn't sleep, could you?" George asked, already knowing the reason for her sleeplessness.

"They're too bloody loud," Elle shook her head, "I swear they've been going at it for about three fucking hours now."

"Well, I warned you, didn't I?" George laughed dryly and turned to face Elle, propping himself up with one elbow, and Elle did the same to face him.

"So, how long does this normally go on for?"

George shrugged, "It depends, really. I swear they never get tired."

From the pale moonlight pouring in through the curtains, Elle took a moment to study those chocolate brown eyes of his, only in this light, they had turned darker— the freckles that speckled his cheeks stood out more prominently, and she had to admit, he was a gorgeous sight.

George was staring right back at her, his eyes trailing down her body, and Elle's widened when she came to the realization that she had chosen to sleep in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and panties. A bad move on her part considering she came strutting into his room looking like a half naked mess.