Honey and Milk

18: Spill.

Clay

My mind was groggy as the sun peeked into the windows, shifting so my face was even more deeply buried into the semi-plushness of an overused pillow.

"Dream baby, wake up~" A voice cooed to his left, a warm feeling pressing to his cheek.

Without looking, or even processing the very not British accent, I gave a mumbled, "George..?"

There was loud laugh that startled me, sending me into full consciousness with a jolt. My eyes opened wide as I scrambled up, finding Nick basically not breathing into his arm while leaning against my mattress. 

"D-dude, you-.. you thought I was Geo-George?" He wheezed, looking up at my shocked expression. "Does he call you baby or something? That's so gay!"

I frowned and shifted, giving him a firm kick to the shoulders. "No, that's gross." He continued his fit of giggles as he stood, heading off to sift through his closet.

"Well you need to get up anyways, I told Karl that we'd hang out later, so your ass better be up in time."

"You did that for me? C'mon Sap, I'd rather relax after yesterday." I decided to sink back down in my bed, closing my eyes for a few moments of bliss before a pillow smacked into my face.

"No sleeping! Up!" He shouted, before another one came hurling over, hitting me in the chest.

"Fine! I'm up!" I flailed my arms out to prevent anymore attacks. With a groan, I brushed a hand through my messed up hair, before standing with a stretch. "I've got my history class at 12 though."

I watched Nick pause before turning to me with a frown. "Damn you and your schedule. I guess you don't have to come spend time with your totally super amazing awesome bestest friend ever."

I rolled my eyes, heading over to my own area of clothing. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Well I'm heading to breakfast, you can come later if you'd like or just be lame and sleep." He stood in front of the large mirror between our wardrobes, fixing the signature bandana across his forehead. "Adios, amigo!"

"Later, loser." I scoffed, turning fully away from him as he exited the room, leaving me alone.

Little did he know, I already had an agenda after my class.

The previous night I'd been up texting with George, chatting about the meet and other things. We'd agreed to meet up once more, not that it was anything new by this point. 

Casually slacking off for the next few hours, and suffering through an agonizingly long class going over angry countries and anyone's favorite subject, communism, I was finally given a breather.

The previous day was memorable, mostly because I'd spent the beginning of the meet scoping out where George was, and then spending the rest of it totally not sneaking glances to make sure he was watching each of my events. To be fair, I did to pretty well, and it could possibly have been the drive to impress the British man whom I'd grown so fond of.

Walking across the campus I'd received multiple remarks of praise or congratulations, which was surprising considering I didn't really think this many people would be able to recognize me. We are in a fairly large college, after all, so it feels good to have attention from people who you'd never be able to interact with again.

I checked the time briefly, finding that I was actually running late. Damn myself for setting our meeting time for 12:15 when the library was all the way across campus. Speeding up into a half-jog-half-walk, I'd arrived at the building of books a few minutes late, rushing in to find the brunette working casually in their hidden spot of bean bags already.