At least if he’d hung up on me, I could have dealt with that blow. He didn’t.
“That’s why we should fuck.” He said it like it was poetry. Like he knew how to soothe me with pretty words. I almost laughed in his face.
“No, no. Hear me out. We’re good, aren’t we? Georgie? I mean, I love you. You love me.”
“I’minlove with you. You want a fuckbuddy.” Good job, George. Honesty. It felt…freeing. Like I could finally speak the truth. He was still there on my screen when he could so easily have hung up on me. A small smile on his stupid face. All that hair. Hoodie. The string in his mouth.
He was always putting things in his mouth. And he would never hang up on me. I knew that, despite the devil on my shoulder whispering lies in my head. Because he loved me.
“No,” he said sternly. “That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?” I howled.
I was going mad, wasn’t I? I was about to snap. Lose the last part of my dignity. My sanity.
“This is you and me. This is you being the only person who matters. And me being the guy you’re in love with. That is what this is. I love you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I was crying properly now. All snotty and wet.
“It means…” he said quietly. So many words. Too many. I think I needed him to be quiet. Just let me gather myself up.
“You remember the first time we met?” he said, that smile still sat there.
“Don’t laugh at me when I’m bloody crying,” I snapped back.
“We sat outside college and just laughed. Do you remember?”
I did. And his voice. I was calming down now. Just listening to him speak. Deep voice. All those words. Pretty, pretty words.
“You did this back then. You calmed me. Made it easier for me to speak. I’d never had that before. Someone who just…made it so simple.”
“I just shut up.”
He laughed. Good.
“No. You listened. It’s surprising how much of a difference that makes.”
“True.” He was speaking in riddles again, and I was simmering inside.
“Then I went home, and I realised that you were special.”
I growled. Because he did this. Said the words, then somehow took it all back.
“Georgie, shut the fuck up and do the listening. Because you’re not listening.”
I wanted to punch him. Not really.
“I’m listening.”
“Calm the fuck down, babe. You’re spiralling into this mess again, and you don’t need to. Because I’m not there to bring you down, but at least I’m here.”
I snorted. Not like that. More like, “stop making me cry, arsehole.”
“You smile at me, and I go all happy on the inside. You’re all touchy with me; you always were. Hanging on to my arm and hugging me and shit.”
“And shit.”
“You kissed my cheek at that first party we went to, and I was desperate to do it back. Just too chicken.”
