The Misunderstanding of Fate

Chapter 6 - Spilled Drinks

In a split second I find myself going from confused, and a little scared, to completely shocked. George's drink is being slowly poured over my head as Walter holds the glass in the air with a happy smile on his face. My first thoughts are ones of mild wonder at the coldness of the drink. We had been here a while now, surely it shouldn't be this cold? However, the stickiness and smell are things I could have predicted. That doesn't lessen their effects. The temperature and shock makes me instantly stand as I inhale sharply. George mirrors my actions while looking much, much angrier than I'm feeling. Perhaps later I would be angry but now I'm just... cold.

"What the hell?" I exclaim but it's ignored. In an instant, George grabs Walter by the back of his hair. My eyes widen as I watch the man's head slam into our table with part of his face landing in the pizza. The action seems to shake me out of my shocked state as I quickly move from the booth. George doesn't stop there and continues to slam Walter's head into the table. I wonder why nobody is stopping him from beating the crap out of this guy in a public place? Even in my soaked state, with my skin becoming stickier every second, I know this has to stop.

"George!" He doesn't hear me. Either that or he's ignoring me and doing what he wants to do. "George, you've got to stop."

At my stern tone, he looks at me for a split second but, seeing my shaking body, that seems to further rile him up. While Walter's head is on the table, George slams his first into any accessible part of his face. So far, he hasn't said anything. Obviously Walter had been swearing or spitting out insults but George had remained eerily quiet. When he does start lowly talking in George's face, I give up. I didn't want to be here anymore. I didn't want to listen to this. I looked ridiculous just standing here, watching, while being covered in liquid. The handful of people in their booths are at least attempting to look busy with their food but I can see the pity in their eyes. Suddenly feeling exhausted and extremely embarrassed, I turn to exit.

When I reach the cold outside, I wonder how the hell I'm going to get home. I wasn't completely sure where we were and I'm freezing. Perhaps I would have to find a bus stop and look for a street name I recognised. I knew I had to make a decision quickly because I didn't want to be around when Walter left the building. I could guess who he would take his anger out on.

As my converse hit the pavement, deciding on a random direction, I hear George call my name. My legs stop moving, even though my head wants me to keep going, but I refuse to turn to face him.

"Luna - Crap..." he reaches me and uses his large hand to turn my body in his direction. The anger I see on his face inspires my own as I push his hand from me. "Are you alright? He asks, giving me a once over. "Look, I didn't want you to see that. I wouldn't have done that ordinarily but I couldn't just let him get away with doing that to you."

He reaches for me again but I flinch instinctively. I know what those hands are capable of, especially when angry. George watches the action and pauses for a couple of moments. Again, I recognise the contemplative look on his face. His eyes are jumping around my face while his hands twitch.

The next time he moves, it's so quick that I can't object or flinch. He uses both hands to wrap around my waist and pull me close. Well, at least one of us didn't care about getting soaked. Now that I can feel his body heat, I'm aware of how cold I am. My teeth are chattering while the sinking feeling in my stomach heightens.

"I've never had a drink thrown over me before."

George pulls us closer so our bodies are mashed together. Every inch of my body meets his as I soak up his heat. Okay, I won't push him away just yet. "What a fucking asshole."

I cringe, "That was so embarrassing." I don't mean to but when I sigh, letting my eyes close momentarily, my head falls forward into George's chest.

"Can't I go back and finish the job?"

He's actually looking for acceptance or permission, which I appreciate, but I still shake my head against his chest. George exhales, letting out a sigh of his own, and I can feel the tension attempt to leave his body. Without asking, he lifts me from the floor and walks us towards his car. Okay, maybe I could get into the car with him. He was warm and the car would be dry and I was tired and George knew how to get home.

The heating is on full blast while he drives in silence. I know he's trying to calm down but the anger lingers. Every time I think of George watching me being covered in his drink, I feel myself flush in embarrassment. Sure it was embarrassing going through it but can you imagine if I could have seen myself while it was happening? The shock in my eyes and the drenched hair. This way, I never had to witness it happening to myself.

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Everyone meet Walter...