"I'm actually so happy George made me meet up with you in real life."

We were lying on the opposite sides of Clay's bed, both scrolling through our phones when he decided to speak.

"Made you?" I looked up from my phone.

"I barely ever met up with any of my online friends, and you were basically a stranger then. I was hesitant if I could trust you or not."

"I'm surprised how you even keep online friends." I chuckled.

"What do you mean?" Raising a brow, he put his phone away.

"Long story. I'm traumatized." I cringed from the memory.

"C'mooon, tell me." I knew that he was going to make me speak. I shouldn't have brought that up in the first place.

"There was a guy from the UK I was talking to. We became friends and used to text 24/7 for a month or more. And then one day he gets all serious and says.. fuck.. and I quote: during these 30 days I realized that I'm falling for you. And if I disappear, just know that I did it to protect myself."

There was a silence before his face turned red probably from holding his laughter. There we go.

"If I disappear," he started mocking the guy immediately, "to protect myself," I knew he was building up to a full on wheeze from just the tone of his voice, "not even liking you, falling for you."

And there it was. Tea kettle mode activated.

"Was that guy George?" He managed to blurt out in between breaths.

"You're such an idiot," I couldn't help but laugh myself, "it's not even funny, it's sad. Scarred me for life."

After a few more seconds of him repeating the same words and laughing, he came back to his normal self.

"Once I cried cause my minecraft girlfriend put her bed next to my friend's bed, if that makes you feel better."

And just like that he managed to make me feel comfortable talking about our stupid and embarrassing memories. We spent hours ranting about things that we probably should've kept to ourselves.

"I had no idea what periods were until I got mine," this was probably one of my blocked memories, "and I had the worst cramps 2 days before it started, which made me think I was dying. But I was too scared to tell my mom cause I was scared of doctors. And when the bleeding started, I thought I'd been bleeding internally for the past 2 days and it was finally coming out of my body."

I expected him to roast me, but for some reason he pouted, "Why do I feel so bad," he was still pouting when he let out a small laugh, "that's kind of cute, sad and stupid at the same time."

"And I didn't tell my mom that I was bleeding to not make her sad. I thought I was on my deathbed."

He raised his brows in a way that always got to me. Him looking like a sad puppy.

"Aww, baby nooo.."

My stomach did a thing hearing him say that in a small voice.

Ew, no, I'm not finding him cute.

No.

I need to change the topic.

"Why is it always so hot in your room?"

Well, I could come up with something better.

"Well it's my room, that's why." And there he goes, making me hate him again. Good.

I wasn't going to respond in any way but looking at him with a judgemental glare.

"Wanna go out for a walk?" He offered.

"It's midnight and probably raining." I checked my phone.

"It's not raining and late night walks are the best," he stretched, "you know what, I'm not asking, I'm demanding. Get up."

I raised my brows from his sudden change of mood and behavior. I still haven't gotten used to it.

"Noo, I'm lazy." I fell back on the bed, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of the night like this.

"C'mon, Liz.." he got closer to the bed, "don't make me carry you."

"Someone desperately wants to get kicked in the balls I see."

"Get up or get lifted." He got even closer which to be fair made me scared.

"Don't you dare touch me, Cleo." I was ready to throw hands.

I realized that he slowly had gotten so close to the bed, that he was able to trap both my calves that were hanging over the edge of the bed between his longer ones.

"You know what," he pressed my legs even tighter together so I wouldn't escape, "maybe if you didn't call me Cleo, I'd let you go. But now you gotta apologize."

I don't know what in the world was his technique, but he got me up on my feet by just grabbing my wrists and pulling them a bit.

I was happy that he didn't actually pick me up, but his serial killer technique made my body slam right to his chest. I think I'd ricochet right back to the bed if he didn't support my body by putting an arm around my waist.