the long game / gr63

chapter thirty-four

— GEORGE —

Sunlight filtered through the window, so bright that my head started pounding before I even opened my eyes. When I did, though, I immediately felt something shift in my chest. The room was empty, and quiet, and the bed beside me was cold. Too cold.

I was alone, I realised, because where Talia's dress had been discarded in a heap of fabric near the vanity last night, there was nothing. My clothes had been neatly folded and laid on top of the hardwood furniture, something white fluttering in the wind coming in through the window.

I got up, ignoring the painful stab at my temple. I reached for the note, my heart sinking in my chest.

I blinked, staring at the piece of paper in my hands, Talia's neat handwriting written on what was obviously the venue's own stationary. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest, thrown into a bonfire and then put back in its safe cage. "What the fuck."

What had I said? I wanted to slap myself, for being such a fucking idiot. My gaze lingered on the first paragraph. I love you, George. Fuck. I fucked this up so fucking bad. Tears burned my eyes, and I angrily wiped them away.

I didn't care about the fake relationship, about whatever the hell my family was going to think about her disappearance. I cared about her, about where she was now, about... about us. Was this the end? Forever? Because of a drunk slip-up?

My hands were shaking, holding the paper so tight my fingerprints indented the material. I needed to fix this, I realised. I reached for my phone, placed next to the pile of clothes on the vanity. It, thankfully, still had some battery left.

I tried calling her, but it went straight to voicemail. I tried calling Layla, who didn't pick up. Then Hayden, who groggily answered the phone and told me she hadn't heard anything from her yet, and that Layla was at her part-time job.

Talia Agu 💜

Tal I'm so sorry
I don't know what I said, but I promise
you I didn't mean it the way you think.
Please answer my calls?
delivered 8:12 a.m.

Breakfast would be served at nine a.m., meaning I had 45 minutes to think up a plan on how to fix this, as well as make myself look presentable and make a decision on what to say to my family. I took a deep breath and then typed in the contact name of the only person I could think of right now who could help.

"Morning, Georgie."

"Hey, Charles." I mumbled, setting myself down on my bed, looking around me at the suddenly grand, empty space. I swear it hadn't felt that way before now. "I need your help."

"Ay," Charles said, his voice echoing far away over the phone. "One second, I'm gonna get out of the shower."

Embarrassment burned my cheeks. "Shit, sorry, man. I didn't mean to intrude."

"No, no, do not apologise." There was a rustling on the end of the line, before the phone was picked up and mine pinged with a request for a FaceTime call. I accepted it, and a shirtless Charles popped up, a towel wrapped around his waist. He situated the phone against something, and then took a step back. "I'm going to be doing my skincare while you talk, so don't mind me. I can't hog the bathroom for too long because Arden has a client at ten and needs to get ready, too."

Gratitude swept through me and I thanked him profusely for wanting to listen, before taking a deep breath and relaying the entire situation, my leg nervously bouncing up and down.  When I was finished, Charles had gotten through his entire routine and was now working on his hair.

"Sounds like she got scared," he said, his French accent heavy on the last word. "You don't remember at all what you said?"

"No, I think... I just remember thinking I couldn't do this without waking up next to her in the morning..." I trailed off, before realisation hit me like a bucket of ice cold water. "I might have said the first part out loud?"

"Merde, George," Charles chuckled. "That's not something you say after sex." [God]

"I know! I didn't mean to say it." I sighed, disappointment coursing through me as I ran my fingers through my hair. "What do I do? How do I fix this?"

Charles bit his lip, pushing back one final strand of hair before resting his hands on the sink, bracing himself while thinking my question through. "You've tried contacting her?"

I nodded.

"And she won't pick up?" To that, I shook my head. Charles frowned. "And she wrote when she'd be back in London? Show up at her house. You must have something that can show how much you care about her. Even if it wasn't your intention and you didn't mean what you said in the way she received it, it's understandable that she would run at the tiniest confirmation of her greatest doubts. You have to go big, George. Et romantique." [and romantic]

I'd been pacing from one side of the room to the other while listening to Charles talk, and suddenly I knew exactly what I could show Talia, to prove how much I really cared, how real these past few weeks had been for me. And I didn't care how stupid it would make me look.

I smiled brightly at the camera, "Charles, you're an absolute genius."

"Anytime, mate," Charles grinned widely. A knock sounded on his side of the screen, and he winked at me. "My time's up, but I know you've got this. Let me know how it goes, man. I'm rooting for you."

"Thank you!" I said, then waved at the screen before he disconnected the call.

There was only one thing left, but I realised I'd known what I wanted to tell my family the moment I read the letter. I was going to tell them the truth, because, in the end, the truth was always going to be the best option. Maybe not the easiest, but look where lying got me. I wasn't going to keep lying to my family, or to Talia, any longer.

— —

Yes I'm insane updating twice in one day but this way the last chapter will be up on Friday and my brain likes that... also I've been working on bonus chapters here and there and!!! I'm so excited to share them

Hope you're still enjoying this angst filled story haha love you x