I would rather call for Clay and let him handle the situation in case something goes wrong, but George keeps telling me that I shouldn't. And I would wake Nick to help me, but let's be honest.. he'd probably start laughing and make me laugh again.

I quickly collect myself and start preparing soaked cotton balls to shove up his nose. George is sitting on the toilet lid and leaning his head back, which I told him not to do cause swallowing that much blood can't possibly be good. He prefers the disgusting metallic taste over making a mess. And who am I to blame him, I've swallowed more disgusting things to not make a mess.

Back to the point. I grab the cotton balls with a pair of tweezers cause unlike Clay I'm not comfortable sticking my fingers up George's nose. I step between his legs, fix his head in a comfortable position by grabbing his jaw, and push the cotton as deep as I can without worrying about it getting stuck.

And he's staring at me. My problem with this whole thing is that he was whining and screaming when Clay would do this, but now he's staring at my face without making a sound.

"I miss breathing," he mumbles once I'm done.

Honestly, same.

"It's okay, the swelling is so much better," I speak, avoiding eye contact and instead trying to focus on cleaning up the sink.

In the process of doing so, I wet the corner of the towel and approach him once again to wipe the blood residue off his face. He closes his eyes and throws his head back waiting for me to get closer, and oh god, his neck and his jaw..

Concentrate. Don't thirst.

I try to wipe his nose with the towel, pressing it a little too hard cause I'm dumb and I forgot that swollen and bruised things hurt when you touch them. He flinches, letting out a throaty groan which was unreasonably hot.

"Sorry," I press my lips together.

More like sorry, I will do it again if you keep making that sound.

"It's okay, just hold on a sec," he gets up and stands infront of the mirror, inspecting his nose before trying to pull the cotton balls out.

"No, no, keep them in longer-" it's been 5 minutes, he's already taking them out.

"The saltiness is making my nose tingle and itch," he pulled them out. The good thing is, looks like he's not bleeding anymore. The bad thing is, he made a mess. Even his top lip is now bloody.

I was hoping he would wash his face while he was at it, but he came right back and sat in the same spot, offering his face as a canvas for me to work on. I swear either he knows what he's doing or he's the flirtiest man alive, and either way, it's pissing me off in the best way possible.

I swallow the nervousness down and give it another try - this time being more gentle. It's harder this time cause his eyes are open and he's looking at me.

"Tell me if it hurts," I speak softly and he nods. I would much rather hear him groan again instead of telling me verbally though.

It's silent in the room. So painfully silent. And I feel his eyes burning holes on my skin.

"Your eyes are so blue, I'm jealous," he speaks. I look up from his lips to his eyes, not processing how could he possibly be jealous when he has the prettiest eyes.

"I like darker eyes," I confess, "darker eyes are very pretty."

I'm proud of myself for pulling off a backhanded compliment without embarrassing myself.

"What? Your eyes are like- gorgeous- I mean, blue eyes."

I bite the inside of my cheek to force back a smile, but it still escapes.

I hadn't acknowledged the lack of distance between us until he stood up. I quickly try to take a step back but my back hits the sink, so I freeze in my spot. We're looking at eachother. Nobody is saying anything. Nobody is moving. We're just looking.

Every single baby hair on my body stands up when George brushes the strands of hair away from my face with his fingertips.

And holy shit, did I panic. I blindly found the sink behind me with my hand and leaned onto it for support cause I stopped trusting my legs.

But it definitely wasn't the fact that I was panicking, I truly could feel the distance between our faces disappearing.

And when he was close enough I closed my eyes and-

"George?"

I almost had a heart attack from Clay's voice. I quickly turned around, ran the water and started pretentiously washing my hands. George on the other hand, calmly walked away from me before Clay could even open the bathroom door.

It's hard to explain what I was doing, but my fingertips were one degree away from getting frostbite.

"Hey," George opens the door, letting Clay in, "my nose was bleeding again, I'm fine now, Anastasia helped."

I see Clay making eye contact with me through the mirror. I splash some of the cold water on my face to shake myself back to reality.

I hate this so much, why did I panic like this.

"Is everything okay now?" Clay double-checks, and even though he's talking to George, I see him staring at me through the mirror.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go back to sleep actually."

George can't be serious. He walks away from the bathroom leaving me with this maniac as if nothing happened. And maybe he's right, nothing happened and it's just me being dramatic as always.

I stop the water and wipe my hands and face with my towel, the only one that didn't have blood on it. I'm not sure if it's the confusing shit that just happened or the freezing water, but my fingers are shaking.

Clay is standing under the doorframe, blocking the way out of the bathroom. Keeping my eyes focused on the floor tiles, I try to pass him.

"Are you okay?" He speaks. It's not that he's worried, he sounds confused.

"Yeah?" I breathe out.

"Well, you're pale," Clay raises a brow, "and you're shaking."

Right when I see his hand getting closer to mine after mentioning that they're shaky, I take a step back and flinch away. Everything that is happening feels like a fever dream and I definitely don't want anyone touching me before I wake up.

"Just scared of blood," I lie, finally looking at him, "goodnight, Clay."

Hurriedly I leave the bathroom, not caring that I had to brush against him to struggle my way out the door.