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“You’re gonna set it on fire if you hold it that close.”
Oscar turned to George sitting close beside him that their shoulders were touching, “It’s not, I know what I’m— Hey—“
George’s fingers curled around his wrist to guide it away from the fire, right before the marshmallow could melt completely on the stick.
“See?” George threw him a smug look and a smirk.
It made Oscar’s heart flutter, but he pushed down the feeling with a swallow. “I had it under control, you know?” He glared at him.
George leaned a little closer and snickered teasingly, “The marshmallow didn’t. It was hanging on for dear life,” he pulled away his hand then.
The warmth lingered way too long around Oscar’s wrist. He ignored it and instead elbowed the other, which only made the man grin wider, pleased with himself. The marshmallow was perfect, Oscar thought. Slightly crisp on the outside; and gooey on the inside. He handed it to George without thinking, and George took it with a raised eyebrow.
“For your heroic save.”
“Well, I’m honored,” George bit into it, still grinning. His eyes caught the fire, and for a second, Oscar could’ve sworn they burned brighter than the flames—too blue, too bright.
A loud yell from afar alerted them both, and they looked toward the beach where Lando was getting chased by Daniel, nearly slipping on the damp sand in the process. There was Charles near them, hands on his hips as he shouted something at them to stop and was ignored completely.
“I feel like you should be there and control the situation,” Oscar pointed.
George threw his head back with a heavy sigh, “I can’t catch a break, can I?”
“I know, I feel bad,” Oscar eyed George’s long neck before sipping the beer in his hand. He told himself he should stop drinking. He was already past tipsy, judging by the way he was swaying and leaning too close to George’s warmth despite the hot weather tonight and that he just shouldn’t. Maybe that was why he kept drinking—he didn’t want to overthink this moment.
“You having fun?” George asked beside him, His head tilted so he could find Oscar’s eyes and their gaze met. Their faces were mere inches.
Oscar figured he could just kiss him there.
“Yeah,” he discarded the idea and hummed. “Thanks for organizing this trip.”
George smiles down at him, not looking away. Oscar didn’t either. “I had to do it before I leave.”
“What?” Oscar blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Leave? To where?”
“I’m going to Spain for college,” George answered as if it was not a big deal. It wasn’t a big deal. Shouldn’t be a big deal.
“Wow,” Oscar didn’t know how to react to the news yet. But his stomach dropped still. “Congrats.”
“You don’t sound thrilled over there.”
“Did I sound too sad?”
George let out a soft huff, not quite a laugh. “A little.”
“I’ll work on it,” Oscar looked down at the bottle in his hand, rolling it between his fingers. “I’m just surprised. That’s a continent away.”
George hummed in return, his gaze lingering on Oscar for a moment longer than usual. “Yeah, well. Life happens.”
“Yeah… You’re gonna find a devilishly handsome Spanish hunk,” Oscar said, tipping the neck of his beer toward George lazily. “And he could be older because everyone knows you have a thing for older guys. You’ll go on dates, fall in love, and then eventually you’ll forget about me.”
“Woah, someone’s jealous ,” George reached out to grab the almost empty bottle out of Oscar’s hand, who quietly whined at it, and added, “And drunk too. Not a good combination.”
Oscar rolled his eyes at him, “I’m not drunk... Yet.”
“Right,” George chuckled softly and just stared at him. Oscar felt like he was melting.
Suddenly, Lewis called behind them. “Bad news. The top-floor bedrooms are officially ovens. Aircon’s dead. No one’s gonna survive up there tonight. So, Oscar, you’re with George tonight.” Before any of them could argue with it, Lewis had walked off to Charles who somehow ended up falling on the wet sand.
Oscar felt his cheeks flush at the new arrangement, though he wasn’t sure why. They’d shared a bed plenty of times—one way or the other. It was nothing new.
“Don’t look so scared now. It’s just one night—surely sharing a bed for that long won’t kill us.”
Oscar almost laughed at that. “Liar. I think we both know exactly what would happen, unless you keep your hands to yourself.”
George lifted a brow, daring, and inched his face a bit closer to Oscar’s, “I make no promises… Though is technically our last night together.”
Oscar parted his lips, stunned. His gaze flickered down at the other’s lips before wandering back up to George’s half-lidded eyes, then swallowed thickly. God, it was so tempting, so easy…
And he was no better man.
George understood the look and soon grabbed Oscar’s hand, leading their way to his room. Their lips met, warm and desperate and messy before George had the chance to lock the door behind them. They stumbled toward the bed until Oscar’s back hit the mattress with a thud, and George followed, hovering over him.
“Be a good boy and stay quiet, alright?” George whispered in Oscar’s ears as he rocked his hip deliberately, causing his head to spin. “The walls are thin.”
“God,” Oscar’s hands slipped under George’s shirt, fingernails digging into the skin. He muffled his moan into the man’s neck, arching his back when George continued rolling his hips, their clothed cocks brushing with maddening friction. He gripped George’s hip, trying to match the rhythm desperately, opening his legs wider as well. Wanting to chase the high sooner. Wanting to stop thinking. Wanting to not feel anything—how George was kissing his neck, how he was whispering sweet nothings as if he meant them when he really didn’t.
When it all finished, Oscar was left awake still, staring at the ceiling, with the remnants of the alcohol earlier and the ache in his heart began to settle in. George was asleep already, his arm thrown over Oscar’s waist. Like the usual. Except this time, it left an effect on Oscar’s heart.
But it was too late. George would be leaving—oblivious to everything spinning through Oscar’s head.