“You do,” I said. I couldn’t admit what. But I got…everything.
“You’re… Why do you do this?” He laughed into the ceiling. “You. You’re so bloody messy.”
“I’m overworked and stressed out, and the company I work for is… Fuck. You have no idea.”
“Yes, I do. You tell me all the time.”
“So why am I still working there?”
“Because you love it. You love the stress and the gossip and the weird bosses, and you also have this obligation to feed it all to me on a daily basis so I can get my hit of Georgie.”
“Hit of Georgie.”
“It’s a thing.” He smiled. “Makes me happy.”
I didn’t dare tell him how happy he made me. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Ever.
Maybe that was a cowardly way of thinking. But I didn’t ever want to lose him. What we had. What he made me.
He made me soft. He made me warm.
He made me happy. And that was a horrible, awful way to describe him.
“I give you nothing back,” he whispered. “And one day you’ll get sick of this.”
“Never.” I meant that. I was an awful person too.
“Tell me what you want. How… I don’t know. Georgie. You listen to me and let me come here and just exist in your space, and you let me text you at four in the morning when I freak out, and you’re always there for me.”
“I am,” I agreed. “Because I love you.”
He smiled. I told him that all the time. He said it back. It wasn’t weird. It was probably the least weird thing between us.
“You’re always there for me too.” Not a lie. There was not a time I could remember when he’d told me I couldn’t talk to him. Text him. Come over. Ask him things.
And here he was again. Looking at me. He had green eyes, surrounded by a ring of brown. Freaky. Like everything else about him. His smile. The one front tooth that was a little crooked still, despite years of braces. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled.
“Do you mind if I say something really freaky?” He smiled. It made me melt. Right through the bed. His hand moved and landed awkwardly on my shoulder. Fingertips against…fabric. Then movement. A soft brush of a finger against my neck. My…chin.
I said nothing. All of me suddenly on mute.
He took that as a yes then.
“I wish…” he said. “That things like this were easy with other people. But they’re not, because you’re you.”
“That makes no sense.”
“No, I know. Just trying to be honest here.”
“Freak.” I grinned.
“Yeah. I know.”
He shifted his hips so we were now on our sides. Face to face. His fingers still on my skin. Stroking my cheek.
“I like when we’re like this.”
“Sleepy?” I smiled. Deflecting. What was I doing? My self-sabotage game was on high alert.Don’t do this. Please don’t.
