13, 𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞

I wake up early the next day, which is highly unusual.

My heart keeps thumping just thinking about last night and how we kissed. Because we actually kissed. More than one time. My entire body felt hot all night and I had to lie down without a blanket over me to keep from sweating my ass off. And I hate sleeping without a blanket because my feet are open to creepy crawlies and I love being buried in sheets.

But the only thing I've been buried in is nerves.

Today, we're both going on the train to Brighton to see everyone else. Well, Olive's coming too.

Olive. Do I tell her about last night?

She might take it as keeping secrets from her if I don't...

I go have a shower and get changed into something presentable. My eyeliner takes me a bit longer to do because I keep fucking up; my hands keep shaking. I finish packing the rest of my things for the trip into a little backpack and walk out of my room.

Clay is still sleeping on the sofa. A mop of dirty blonde hair is all that can be seen under the thick blankets.

"Clay," I whisper next to him, urging him to wake up. We're leaving in an hour and he'll probably need enough time to get changed.

He doesn't respond.

"Clay," I repeat, louder this time. I poke his arm.

He mumbles something to himself like "I Hiss Latches" and rolls over onto his other side so he's facing away from me.

I sigh. I guess I have no choice. Winky face.

I walk over to my bedroom, grab a pillow and come back to the sofa. I pull my arm back, about to fire the pillow smack on his big-brained head.

I squeal. A hand catches my wrist before I can, pulling me down onto him.

Clay starts to laugh under the covers, peeking his head out and sitting upright. His tired eyes meet mine and his expression goes blank, apart from the smirk creeping onto his face. He looks down at my legs, which are on either side of him. The position that we're in makes my face go hot again.

"We're leaving in an hour," I inform him, looking away and attempting to get up.

He strengthens his hold on my waist, stopping me from moving. "Not yet," he mutters in his hoarse morning voice, leaning into me.

"What do you want?" I ask, caught in a daze.

"I couldn't sleep last night."

I suck in a breath. "Why's that?"

His lips graze my neck, sending chills down my spine. "I think you know."

"Hiya! It's a bright day outside! Bright enough for Brighto—oh."

I jump off of Clay, my knee banging into my coffee table in the process. I hop away on one leg, cradling the other with my arm, and rush to Olive. She stands in the doorway, her mouth practically falling to the floor at the sight before her. I glance over my shoulder to see that Clay has already left, most likely to get changed.

Olive opens and closes her mouth like a fish. "Was that...did you..."

"No, we didn't. Nothing like what you're thinking right now happened. I fell on top of him. It was an accident. Nothing happened—erm, well—"

Olive closes the door behind her, rushing us into the living room. "Tell me everything."

"Not right now. He's getting changed."

"I only saw a snippet of him but shit, Azzy, he's a lot hotter than I thought he'd be."

You have no idea.

@dreamwastaken

hey cool gamer girl

💬 5,538 🔁 6,790 💜 46,124

On the train, Clay fell asleep.

He's really cute when he sleeps.

But that wasn't the first thing I thought. As someone sitting next to him, I took his sleeping as my responsibility. He had to look presentable, especially when doing such a vulnerable act. So I took out my highlighters and my sharpie and I painted his mask green and gave him the same nipple eyes as his Minecraft avatar.

Now I'm sat here with a large feeling of accomplishment.

Meanwhile Olive keeps looking at us like she knows something, even though I haven't told her anything. She's got this wide smirk on her face and her eyes like to graze over the two of us, back and forth, back and forth.

"So what happened?" she whispers from opposite me, leaning forward.

I look around at the people in the train. A lot are asleep, to my surprise, though it is quite early in the morning.

I say while faking a cough, "Wii kizzed."

"Wii Kids?"

"What? No," I say. I cough again: "Wey kisst."

Olive's dark eyes fall of their sockets. "You kissed?"

"Sh. Yes," I answer with my mouth closed.

"Fucking hell," she laughs. "I didn't know you had it in you."

What makes you think it was me that initated it?

Even though it was...

I quickly finish up the conversation with Olive, not wanting to give too many details considering the guy is right next to me. And he's very good at pretending to sleep, if you think back to this morning. Urgh.

I feel my eyelids start to droop from my lack of sleep last night, and I let them. A feeling of safety manages to rest me.

"We're here," Olive hisses excitedly, shaking my arm.

I open my eyes to find my head resting on Clay's shoulder. He looks down at me with expressive eyebrows, amused.

We quickly get off the train, Olive leading us away. I'm still rubbing my eyes. I stumble over one of stone cracks but Clay catches my wrist, pulling me back up. To save me from embarassment, he doesn't look at me; he ignores that it happened, and puts me in front of him so I don't block the people shoving forward behind me.

"So, which Pizza Hut is it?"

Clay asks, still unaware of what I'd drawn on his mask. I smile.

"Don't worry, Play-Doh. I'll lead the way."

That's reassuring, right?

Well, until my phone starts vibrating like a maniac and I pull it up, only to find this on Twitter:

@oliveofthetree

@azzpen and @dreamwastaken ;)

💬 8,341 🔁 5,634 💜 35,824

Clay isn't exactly ignoring me, but he isn't exactly engaging with me either.

I know why.

It's Olive's stupid viral post of the two of us. There's even a slight chin and nose reveal, if you look close enough. It must feel like a violation of privacy--I mean, I feel it too. But I guess Olive is my responsibility.

"Where's Wilbur?"

"He'll be here. He's usually punctual. The only reason why he's slightly late today is because we kind of stood him up yesterday," I explain.

"He got the dates confused," Clay defends himself.

"I know, I know."

A few minutes later, I hear a familiar voice calling us.

"Oi!"

We all turn towards it.

Wilbur stands there, in all his tall, curly-brown-headed Wilbur glory. "Is that a world record holder over there?"

"If it isn't Wilbur Soot," Clay says, grinning at him.

"Fuck! You're a lot better looking than I am," Wilbur laughs. He turns to me, eyeing me carefully. "Nice hoodie, Az."

I look down at what I'm wearing. Right. Dream's merch hoodie.

"Will, shut your gob. I bought this with my own hard earned money."

"Mhm," he murmurs, a smirk on his face. He doesn't believe me at all. "Who's she?"

"Olive," she answers, chipper.

Wilbur raises his brows. "Oliveofthetree?"

She nods vigorously. "That's me."

"Right," he says, sending me another look.

I know exactly what he's thinking.

That girl just revealed your not public but also not even completely existent relationship to the entire world.

I cough, pulling my eyes away from Wilbur before he stares me down and kills me from the inside out. When I look away, I see a figure coming off of the road and towards us.

"Gogy?" I murmur, my eyes turning into the simp puppy eye emoji at this point.

Everyone's heads turn to the figure.

"Oh, Geoooorge."

"Well, hello, Clay."

Clay smiles at him. "Don't get cocky about it, idiot."

George looks around at everyone. "Everyone's a lot taller than expected. Okay."

"Except for Az," Clay says, nudging me gently.

I scrunch my nose up at him. Wilbur snorts; Olive laughs shortly.

"Hi, Azthmatic."

"Hi, Gogy," I greet, sticking my tongue out at him.

George grins, and looks down at my clothes. His lips curl. "Nice hoodie."

I groan.

We order three pizzas.

One of them is only cheese because Wilbur doesn't like anything else; Clay got one with ham and pineapple; George got a pepperoni one, mostly because Olive ordered it and he gave in to sharing. Four pizzas would be too much.

"Don't pick off the pineapple," Clay laughs.

"Something as sour as pineapple and pizza...together? Makes no sense."

"It makes complete sense. Just try it," he says, waving it in my face.

I cringe. "No--ew, go away. You eat it if you love it so much."

"Fine," he replies, smoothly putting all of my pineapples on his plate.

Wilbur keeps looking between the two of us with a smirk. He shares a look with George, who can't help his smile.

"You're like a bin," I mutter to Clay.

"Me? Wilbur's the one who's done with an entire pizza."

"I'm the oldest person here. I deserve the most food," Wilbur explains.

Makes sense.

George raises his brows. "Wait, are you? When were you born?"

"September '96," Wilbur replies.

George groans. "November '96."

"And yet you're so small," Clay jests.

"Shut up, Clay."

"Hey, Az?"

Olive motions for me to go to the bathroom with her. Like a girl in Year 7, I follow her out, watching her as she giggles her way through the establishment.

"Do you really need someone to supervise you while you have a wee?" I ask once we get into the bathroom. Nobody else is in here.

Olive looks into the mirror, taking mascara out of her bag. She puts more on, accentuating her already pretty, long eyelashes. "George is adorable, isn't he?"

I blink. "Of course. It's George."

"I think we should go to the beach later tonight."

"It'll be cold."

"It'll be secluded. Besides, it's a good excuse for you to wear that bikini."

"I do like that bikini."

"It looks great on you," she remarks casually. When she's done with her eyelashes, she looks at me. I must have been staring at her like I wanted something because she asks, "Do you want...?" She's referring to her mascara.

I shake my head no, solely because I've got my own and, to be honest, it's the last thing on my mind.

"Alright," she says, smiling at me.

I suck in a breath. "Olive."

Her lips purse slightly. "Yes?"

"Don't post anymore pictures of me and Clay or any of us, okay? Unless you've got our permission, which I don't think is likely to happen."

"Does it bother you that much?"

"Yes. It makes other people uncomfortable too."

"Isn't that one of the things you have to deal with when you've got fame?" she asks. "Besides, this is exciting. You with all the cute Twitch boys. It should be publicised. I mean, I know so many people who would love to be in your position."

"Just because I'm some Twitch streamer doesn't mean I've got a life like a movie, Olive. To be honest, it's starting to feel like that's all you see me as. Some Twitch streamer," I mutter. "Are you playing me right now? Like a fiddle?"

"Of course not," she snaps. Her eyes soften. "I wouldn't do that to you, genuinely."

"But we never talk about anything other than boys or my career or, well, more recently, Brighton."

"You haven't known me for that long. I just get excited about those things--I'm sorry."

"And I haven't known Clay for long either," I murmur, "but it feels like years."

"I'm sorry."

I hesitate to respond.