Smoke Break /Georgenotfound/

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After George left, I headed straight for the shower. However, no matter how much shampoo I used, I couldn't rinse away the nonsense in my mind.

Then I figured maybe cleaning the house would be a good distraction, so I ended up tidying the entire place.

Not only didn't it help, but I also found out that George left his jacket here.

I'm not exaggerating when I say that even after I folded and put it away, I could still catch its scent - so good that it made me lightheaded.

My last attempt at finding distraction was buying random things I didn't actually need. I knew that one would help, but I'd been trying to stop my bad habit of stress-shopping.

Maybe I'll do it one last time.

And I already felt considerably better after getting ready and leaving the house. I was excited, happy even, although the feeling lasted a minute. Just as I stepped out of the apartment building, my eyes spotted the familiar black Tesla pulling up.

I watched carefully as Nick and George exited from the front seats, with each of them opening the back doors on their respective sides. From George's side, a brunette girl emerged, while from Nick's side, a blond girl followed suit.

And they were both so pretty. And George was smiling so hard.

And I should stop creeping on them.

I got into my own car before they could see me and watched them lead the ladies into the building. My hand tightened around the steering wheel when I saw George's hand on the brunette's back, leading her gently into the darkness of the building.

Did he ever do that to me? I guess he preferred holding my wrist or even my hand whenever he wanted to guide me somewhere.

Why am I dissecting this? I'm being toxic towards a guy I haven't even kissed. Well, except for that one time in a dream.

Oh my god, do I like him that much? Did it cross the healthy zone? Am I crushing that hard?

I aggressively yanked the sun visor down, using its mirror to apply lipgloss as if that would make a difference. Within 10 seconds, I had already chewed it off.

The car radio was loud throughout the entire ride, and if I didn't stop frowning, so would be the wrinkles between my eyebrows. I couldn't even pinpoint the reason for my anger or who I was upset with. I knew I was being irrational, but I couldn't help it.

I was just mad at myself for liking someone-

-and I was mad at someone for liking other girls.

My obsession with shower and skincare products continued as I cleared the shelves at the store. Trying my new products at least gave me the will and motivation to head back home without looking like I was attending a funeral.

Finally back home, I loaded up a plate full of food and sat down to enjoy it. However, my appetite vanished due to the noises echoing through my house.

Hearing female voices from their house was weird since I was so used to hearing three guys yelling at each other.

"Stop it, George!"

I stopped chewing my food.

"Oh my god, George!"

I washed the remains down with water.

"George, you're so annoying!"

I set my fork down, leaving my meal unfinished.

Audibly expressing my disgust, I let out a small "ugh" before stuffing my ears with earbuds and blasting music to avoid hearing any more of what was happening next door.

I went back to my room, flopping onto the bed and letting the music fill the space. Despite not being able to sleep with earbuds, my exhaustion from last night pulled my eyelids down until they closed completely.

I sensed my body sinking into the mattress as I fell asleep.

However, a sudden, resounding knock on the door made me jump awake.

As my eyes fluttered open, I noticed that the music I was listening to was no longer playing, and instead, a rhythmic pattern of knocking at the door was resonating through the walls.

I only knew one person who knocked like that.

I got up, stumbling over my own feet as I reached the door. With my eyes still struggling to stay open, I pulled the door and found George standing there.

"Not you sleeping again," he shook his head, not bothering to wait for my invitation and walking right in.

"Well, not anymore, thanks to you," I said as I closed the door.

"I think you still are," he remarked, likely referring to my half-open eyes and my struggle to stand upright, "I think I left my jacket here."

The moment he mentioned it, I started feeling the scent of it in the room. It must have been something psychological.

"Too late, I adopted it," I joked, walking over to the chair where the jacket was placed - neatly folded. "It's mine now."

"Put it on, I'll consider it," he said, leaning casually against the wall. His arms were crossed, and his side rested smoothly against it, as if he was waiting for me to put on a show for him.

I let out a sigh, picked up the jacket, and walked over to him, refusing to put it on just because he told me to.

"Here," I said, extending the jacket to him. It remained folded, resting flat in my arms, as if I was performing some sort of ceremonial gesture.

He accepted the jacket and gave it a shake, causing it to unfold. The motion released a gentle rush of air, carrying a subtle scent that enveloped me.

"Thought I told you to put it on?" His tone sounded demanding.

I didn't realize how he threw the jacket over my shoulders, the fabric settling with a comforting weight on my back. His fingers found the sleeves, giving them a gentle tug, which pulled me closer to him.

My lips parted, a small gasp escaping, as the minimal space between us caught my attention. The realization that he had me cocooned in his jacket sent my heartbeat up into my throat, a mix of surprise and a fluttering sensation overtaking me.

I breathed in, seeing him eye me up and down.

"What do you say? Does it look good?" I spoke, voice quieter than I hoped it would be.

"You have no idea," he smiled, "but I think it needs to be a little tighter."

I shifted slightly as he pulled on the sleeves, my arms coming up to rest against his chest for support as our bodies pressed together.

I didn't waste a moment before leaning in, eager to finally feel his lips on mine after all this torture.

But the closer I got, the less I could feel.

Until my forehead hit the wall, and I woke up.

The music still blared loudly in my ears, his jacket remained neatly folded on the chair, and the girls' laughter continued to pierce through the walls as I removed my earbuds.

And most importantly, I still felt like an idiot. The biggest fucking idiot with the smallest emotional control.