A Match Made in Hell

21

"If you'll excuse me, I have to use the restroom. I'm probably getting diarrhoea after this." Nick runs to the bathroom.

"We did need to know that." I yell as he leaves, causing clay to laugh.

It makes me smile, his laugh. It's so contagious, it's one of my favourite things to listen to.

If I could, I'd record him laughing and listen to it whenever I wanted to.

The two of us haven't exchanged a word since we arrived. I want to say something but I can't get myself to.

"So, uh-" he speaks up. "We should probably talk."

"Now? Nick is going to be back in a few seconds."

"We can go somewhere else if you want to." He suggests.

"I'm sorry, I can't. I'm too tired." I disagree as kindly as possible.

"That's fine, don't worry. We can talk later." He smiles and I nod.

His smile is so fake it's so obvious.

It's nothing like his real smile.

His cheeks turn red when he smiles. His eyes light up. He even tears up sometimes.

It's not the same.

He suddenly turns back to me. "You can come over if you want." He hesitates. "If you want to, of course. You don't have to."

I stop in my place for about 5 seconds. "I guess that could work, yeah." I nod.

He smiles.

He actually smiles.

That little spark in his eye is back.

Nick comes back and collapses on his chair next to mine. "My stomach is going to kill me." He throws his head back.

"You should definitely go home and rest." Clay nods and laughs.

"Yeah, I should." He gets up and puts his jacket on. "Get your lazy asses up, we're going home."

We already paid earlier, clay said he was paying because it was his idea.

"I'm going home with clay." I whisper in nick's ear.

"So the two of you made up?" He smirks and raises a brow sarcastically. I smack his arm and roll my eyes at him. "I'm joking," he laughs. "Good luck."

"I'll see you tomorrow." I smile at him and walk up to clay.

He opens the passenger seat door for me and I thank him quietly.

He gets in and puts his seatbelt on, but doesn't move.

"George?"

"Yes?" I mutter in response.

"Are you still mad at me?" He asks quietly, his voice shaking in nervousness.

I peck his cheek, causing his face to go red. "We'll talk when we get home."

He nods and starts the car.

The drive is surprisingly not awkward. His apartment is not far from here, so it won't take us long.

It's really quiet, but not awkward. It's just a comfortable silence.

I'm scared for what's going to happen. What we're going to talk about.

I don't want to bring up something serious on accident. I don't want him to be mad at me. I can't bare to stay away from him anymore, I've missed him too much.

"George," he nudges my shoulder.

"Yes?" I yawn.

"We're here." He steps out of the car and opens the passenger seat door. He holds out a hand for me to take and helps me up, wrapping his arm around my waist.