Page 193 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions
“Bye, Alex. Love you, buddy.”
“Love you, too.”
All I’d ever wanted was to make him proud. To be…what he needed me to be. And I’d lost the watch—I’d lost the symbol of his love. His most prized possession before he’d given it to me. He may not know now but he would soon. Just like he’d see beneath my cracks if he kept pushing hard enough.
Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I had to stand in the path for a few minutes to get my breathing under control. I couldn’t…I couldn’t fucking do this. I just—I just wantedGeorge. Was that too much to ask? I just needed my Georgie.
This was too much.
It was…I couldn’t—if he was gone I just—Icouldn’t.
I picked up the pace, cresting the hill that would lead down to the lake with my heart in my throat. My palms were sweaty. If I was being honest, myeverythingwas sweaty. The heat beat down on me, peeking through the branches of trees, each beam like a blow.
I hadn’t drank alcohol at all last night, too drunk on George to need liquor—and yet I still felt hungover. Like my brain was a dry sponge, and my mouth was full of sandpaper.
Through a dip in the trees, I could see the sparkle of the lake.
Finally.
When I reached the edge of the forest, I frowned.
A rather large group of people were by the edge of the water.
What the fuck.
Today wasn’t lake day.
Why was everyone down here?
Curious, I continued closer—hopeful that I’d finally discovered where my wayward blond kitty had disappeared.
With every step I took, I only became more confused. Because…what I was seeing didn’t make sense. George’s entire family, as well as my cousins, Roderick, and June were crowded inside the shallows. All of them were shuffling about, hardly moving, faces tipped toward their feet. That in itself was strange.
But strangest of all, was the fact that George was among them.
Even if I hadn’t been totally obsessed with him, George would’ve been easy to spot. His height, his slight build, and his wavy sun-soaked hair were pretty distinct. It looked messy even from afar, and his usually stiff posture was even more pronounced when pitted side by side with Joe’s gargoyle-like bulk and stature.
It was tricky to jog in the sand, due to how much I was slipping and sliding, but I pushed through the discomfort as I headed straight for him. My calves were burning by the time I got close enough to see what he was wearing.
Holy shit.
Ten feet away, then five, I paused at the edge of the water, out of breath.
My pulse skipped about, jack-hammering in my chest. George had yet to notice my presence, as he had his back turned toward me.George. Germaphobic, water-repelled George. Who was…standing in the shallows while wearing a frankly horrendous pair of…wait, was that—I squinted, shocked—chest waders?These absolutely massive plastic overalls sat overtop a t-shirt he’d borrowed from my bag. It was a band t-shirt, and my personal favorite, which only made it even better that he was wearing it—like withoutme having to tell him, he’d somehow known that was the one I loved the most. The t-shirt drowned him in worn black cotton, but still magically managed to fit his body better than the waders did.
It wasn’t my birthday, but it sure felt like it.
This was the stuff of fantasies.
On top of the waders, George was wearing a set of fluorescent orange water-resistant gloves. They covered all the way up to his armpit, protecting him from the water he abhorred. Not that he was digging around in it much—because judging by the state of Joe, that was his job.
No.
George was the lookout. The bossy, adorable, rubber-covered lookout.
“Okay. We’re going to need to move to the quadrant at the south end. June’s already covered this area,” George directed Joe. Joe who was soaked from head to toe, as was his duty as George’s obedient minion and the person digging around in the water for him.
Joe spotted me before George did. He rose from his crouch, accidentally splashing George. Annoyed, George began to tell him off—only for him to stop mid-rant when he turned to see what Joe was looking at.
