Metanoia // George Ezra Fanfic

I Did It

The campground was pretty empty. Although, I wasn't surprised. Valentine's Day, in the middle of February? Chances of finding many people on a camping expedition right now were slim to none. Only weirdos would go camping for Valentine's Day, right?

George and I jump out of my car, and look around our spot in the middle of a thick forest. Not too far away, I can hear a rushing river. I peer up at the sky, which is cloudy and gray. The weather channel had shown a chance of rain tomorrow, and I sincerely hoped that prediction was incorrect. Forty degree weather, rain, and camping didn't sound like a very comfortable mix.

"Let's put up the tent, shall we?" George says, opening the trunk of the car, and pulling out the tent. 

"Yeah, that's a good idea." I say, already regretting wearing my flowery leggings and blue sweater. The sweater was warm - the leggings, on the other hand, were not. 

We start pitching the tent on a piece of ground that looks the flattest and most comfortable. George fiddles with the zipper on the bag, which must have gotten stuck at some point on our car ride to Birmingham. Finally, the zipper gives and glides, and George tugs the tent out of the bag. 

He grunts, apparently putting quite a bit of effort getting the tent out, "How on earth do they fit this huge tent into this tiny little bag anyway?"

"Well, they're professional tent folders, George. Not everyone can be great at it." I smirk. 

He giggles, good naturedly, "Have you ever put a tent up before?"

"A few times. We aren't big campers in my family though. We were more of the stay inside and read a book kind of people." 

"I get that." George says, pulling the instructions from the bag, "We did a lot of puzzles in my house."

I glance over his shoulder to read the instructions, muttering, "Oh, good! They've provided us with pictures to go with the tiniest writing in the world."

George giggles a bit, handing me the instructions. 

As it turns out, the instructions are completely useless. An hour later, we'd just barely gotten the tent up. Either we weren't too bright, or whoever wrote the instructions wasn't. Even though it was cold out, I had still managed to break out into a bit of a sweat, and George looked even more fatigued than I was.

I collapse on the floor of the tent with George, feeling a little grumpy and very tired, mumbling, "I didn't realize when we bought the tent that it would cost $200, an hour of my life, and my first born child."

George laughs wildly, squinting at me through his smile, "Good gracious, that was an ordeal, wasn't it?"

Although I'm still resentful towards the tent, I laugh anyway. You can't help but want to laugh when George does. He has the funniest, most contagious laugh.

"Happy Valentine's Day." I chuckle, a little sarcastically.

George keeps giggling, "I think tent pitching is very romantic. We grow closer with each frustrating minute."

I laugh again, sitting up, "I'm gonna grab our sleeping bags." 

George stands up with me, stretching a bit, "I guess we should bring our other stuff in here too."

We crouch down, holding the tent flap out of the way as we step out into the fading daylight. Once I open the trunk, I grab our green sleeping bags, swinging the straps over both of my shoulders. George rifles through the backseat, grabbing our backpacks. 

From the backseat, I hear him groan, "Sheesh, Everly, what have you got in your backpack? It weighs like twenty pounds!"

"Just normal stuff." I say with a shrug, "Clothes, bottled water, toothbrush and toothpaste, a couple books-"