daydreaming, dreamwastaken x oc

15, pissed-baby

according to wattpad statistics, 50% of you are in the us and the rest are like everywhere else. there's no right time for me to post i don't think (unless...) so i'm sticking to whenever there's vague daylight in my homeland, the dreary uk. the queen is my favourite woman after all 😃

today i'm posting early cus i'm getting pissed tn lol

if you end up liking this chapter, consider voting. it's free, and you can always unvote. enjoy the chapter!

15, 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝-𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲

"My credit card has been rejected?" I ask the receptionist. I'm not in utter disbelief; I just thought that I had a little more saved up. Apparently not.

I mean, it's not like I was planning for this to happen...

"I'll pay for a room for you," Clay says from behind me.

I put my arm out, stopping him before he can do anything.

"I'm not taking money from you," I say. "I'll feel bad."

He smiles slightly. "Well," he starts, "then you can sleep on the couch in my room. It'll be even then."

"...Okay."

"Okay."

I flick my head to him and narrow my eyes. "But no funny business, Clayton Doh."

He laughs, taking the keys from the receptionist. Wilbur and George finally walk into the hotel with the drinks and the four of us go up to Clay's room for a party.

We're celebrating Olive leaving--oh, no, I mean all of us meeting.

"Clay, try this," I say, handing him a bar of Dairy Milk. "It's a million times better than whatever they give you in America."

George nods vigorously. "I agree."

"Chocolate is one of the many things that us Brits do better," Wilbur remarks.

Clay laughs, taking the bar. He takes a bite into it. The three of us look at him expectantly, our faces devoid of expression.

"Yeah, it's good."

"It's good?" I exclaim angrily, scrunching my face up.

"This is insulting," Wilbur mutters, taking another swig of his beer.

"It tastes like chocolate."

George shakes his head furiously. "Getting diamonds from a shipwreck is good. Having this chocolate—this chocolate—doesn't even compare."

"The taste is sensational," Wilbur adds.

"Completely uncomparable to Hershey's," I add.

Clay laughs. "How are you guys already drunk?"

"We're a nation of alcoholics," Wilbur says. "But I'm the most civil British person here."

"Yeah, okay, He-Who-Called-Phil-Daddy. It's me that's the calmest. Gogy is the drunkest here."

George's mouth hangs open. His eyes are droopy. "What?"

We all laugh. In fact, the rest of the night is full of laughter and drunk comments that we'll probably forget in the morning. Eventually, Wilbur decides to leave before he drinks anymore and George stays back a bit longer.