Coder Girl /Dreamwastaken/

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I fell asleep in Clay's arms. We didn't even lie down properly. He just held me close and we fell asleep somehow, waking up in the same position. But he managed to cocoon us with blankets.

Clay was still asleep when I opened my eyes and I could tell that cause he had no other place to rest his head than ontop of mine.

I was wondering how he managed to hug me so tightly in his sleep. Did his muscles even have time to relax while he slept? Was it a reflex? He always hugs something to sleep when I'm not around.

Oh my god, he's the cutest.

I hate myself.

I tried to reach for my phone to check the time, but as I moved a bit, Clay took an annoyed breath in, rolling away somehow and covering his head with a pillow.

I should mention that he's not a morning person. Like at all.

"It's 3 in the afternoon." I tapped his pillow to send the vibrations to his ears, which made him whine.

"M'tired." I think that was what he tried to say by slurring his speech and whining at the end of it.

"Do you want pancakes?" I remembered the unused pancake mix lying in the fridge for days now, cause I bought it yet had no time to do anything with it.

His head popped out from underneath the pillow. His eyelids were barely separated, and all I could see was a grumpy, pouty manchild with a blond mess ontop of his head that looked like a mop.

"With nutella?" His morning voice was something to live for.

"And bananas." I just knew that was his favorite combination.

He finally smiled wickedly, going back to sleep as a way of killing time until his order would be ready.

Even though I was low on energy myself, I still smiled and got up, ready to do absolutely anything to make that dork's day better.

Before coming out of the room I cared enough to check my reflexion in the huge mirror in the bedroom. Everything seemed normal except there was a hickey on my collarbone, and a few bruises that had the shape of his fingertips around my thighs. Luckily none of those were in a place that needed makeup to cover up.

So putting on some clothes that were comfortably covering all of the exposed bruised skin, I made my way to the bathroom. And as I looked at the bathroom mirror while brushing my teeth, I realized that my face wasn't looking that great either. I had eyebags for days and the skin of my lips was disgustingly chapped and broken.

I almost looked like George.

Luckily I don't have to impress anyone. All of the people in the house have seen me looking way worse. Well to be fair they have never seen me look genuinely good, which is quite sad considering that we'd been seeing eachother almost every day for months now.

Anyways, as I entered the kitchen, I found Nick and George sniffing a carton of milk.

"Hey Liz!" Nick was happy to see me.

"Hi Nick!" I answered with the same tone, "and hello to you too George.."

George was so into smelling the milk that he forgot to even answer. He was profusely taking the molecules in, trying to figure something out.

"Can you taste the milk and tell us if it's gone bad?" And apparently this is why Nick was so excited to see me.

Considering the fact that the milk had been lying in the fridge with no electricity for hours now, I think I know the answer without even tasting it.

"Throw it away." I figured it's better to be extra safe and go buy groceries.

"It doesn't smell of anything and it's still cold." George complained.

"Then drink it." I thought he would stop after my words, but he went as far as tasting the milk and spitting it back into the carton.

I think that's enough explanation about the condition of the food in the fridge. And the same thing happened to the pancake mix. It just smelled sour if that makes sense.

"Who's gonna go to the grocery store?" We had literally no food. Even the nutella jar was empty.

Nick looked around, checking if Clay was nearby. At first I thought he wanted to send Clay, but when he leaned closer to whisper something, I already knew.

"Can I take his car?" He sounded like he was asking about something super illegal.

"If you promise to be careful with it." I trusted Nick more that Clay when it came to driving.

"I'll get the biggest and yellowest bananas for you if you give me the keys," he whispered, "and the biggest jar of nutella. And anything you want."

And I call that a deal.

I went up to Clay's room just in case and warned him. He didn't care cause he was half asleep, and all I got as an answer was an "mhm".

And then I had to spend time with George until Nick would come back. By spending time with him I mean having an awkward conversation.

"So how did you sleep?" He asked, sipping a glass of water like it was some high class beverage. 

"Good," I tried to act natural, "you?"

"Like a dead body." He laughed.

Thank god.

"How about Nick? Did he sleep well?" And these are my attempts of acting natural.

"I don't know.." George looked confused, "but his phone died and he had to take mine to listen to music. Apparently he can't sleep without it."

I nodded, hopeful that Nick didn't hear anything. He would act different if he heard though, right? Knowing Nick, I knew that he'd rub it on my face.

Clay was still asleep when Nick came back with bags full of food. He got the pancake mix I asked for, two big jars of nutella, perfectly ripe bananas and my favorite type of gummies as well. Sometimes I love him so much.

We wasted no time and started to make the pancakes.

"Remember when we made pancakes for George and Clay last Christmas?" The memories resurfaced as Nick sliced the bananas.

"I still feel the aftertaste. By far one of the worst experiences in my life." George interrupted our conversation with a rude remark.

"Cause your british pancake mixes have the queen's titty milk in them," Nick was the one getting so offended cause he was also the one who made those pancakes back then, "which, to mention, is expired."

"Don't you dare offend Lizzy like that." George's sentence made my head turn towards him.

For a moment I thought George was calling me a queen, but then it hit.

"Don't call her Lizzy." I cringed, flipping the last pancake.

Soon enough we had a nice plate of food and still no electricity. The only good thing was that the stove in Clay's house wasn't electric, so we still could use something.

As I was about to take Clay's plate to the bedroom, Nick tapped my shoulder.

Turning around, I saw him handing me a can of energy drink.

"What?" I frowned, looking at it.

"This is for you." He had a weird smile on his face.

I took the can, still looking questionably at him. But with some final words that luckily George didn't hear, everything made sense.

"Thought you'd need a boost. You had a rough night."