Smoke Break /Georgenotfound/

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George shifted his gaze between my face and my legs resting casually on his lap, clearly taken aback.

It's funny cause he probably thought I wasn't bold enough to do it, which is probably why he offered help in the first place.

And it's even funnier that I thought he'd never help me, and the whole bit was a joke, but he started to carefully undo the straps with his fingers, holding much more flexibility and skillfulness than mine ever could.

Mesmerized is not the word to describe how I was looking at his hands. I was utterly captivated.

As the sparkly straps slipped away, a sense of relief washed over me. Yet the red imprints from the constant pressure were visible on my skin.

"That's it, I'm throwing those shoes away," I sighed as George removed them and placed them on the floor.

"They looked so good, though," he complimented, his eyes drifting to the red marks around and up my ankles, "but yeah, not worth the pain."

I shivered slightly as George's fingertips brushed against the marks left by the straps on my skin. The contrast between my burning red skin and the coolness of his fingers raised goosebumps at every point of contact. And before he could notice them, I retracted my legs from his lap.

"Thank you," I cleared my throat, hurrying to find a distraction. The remote caught my attention, "Wanna watch TV?"

He shrugged, not really interested. And honestly, same.

There was nothing good enough to keep us entertained - at least not for me. He ended up watching something about planets and the universe that I couldn't muster enough interest to even try to understand. I was simply gazing at the colorful planets, choosing the prettiest one.

When there was a commercial break, he suddenly spoke.

"Are you still drunk?" His eyes were still fixed on the TV.

"No?" I wondered what I had done now.

"Come kiss me then."

My head snapped to look at him, his eyes glued to the screen as if he was having a conversation with the TV.

"What..." I was already wishing I had slept instead of going to the balcony, "No.."

"Why not?" He finally turned to look at me, a stupid smirk planted on his lips.

"I don't want to." I lied. The real reason was that he had become too cocky, and the way he was so smug got on my nerves.

"You don't want to?" He repeated my words, raising a brow and chuckling.

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"I remember you saying other things too," he shrugged.

I took in a breath, hand clenching into a fist before I spoke.

"What things?"

His smile became even more pronounced before he spoke.

"But I want you so bad, George..."

I almost screamed at his words and how he had the audacity to bring it up. Was I even that drunk if I could recall saying that so clearly?

"Shut up-" I warned, ready to grab a pillow and suffocate him with it if he dared to continue.

"I mean, that's what you said."

"I was drunk. You don't have to bring it up." I shook my head, annoyed but also not surprised. I knew he would.

"As if you don't want me now," his confidence was ridiculous.

"Only in your dreams," I responded as if I hadn't been the one making out with him in my own dream.

"Quite an assumption that I sleep long enough to dream," he chuckled, "but what about you, darling? What have you been dreaming about?"

My face began to burn from the flashbacks of my dream and the use of the nickname simultaneously. To divert him from the topic of discussing my dreams, I furrowed my brows.

"Don't call me that."

"Don't call you what?"

"That."

"Darling?"

Oh my god, the way he said it.

"Yes."

"Why? Cause it makes you blush?" He was toying with the remote with such a relaxed state while I was on the other side of the couch fighting for my ability to breathe.

"Just shut up, I'm trying to sleep," grabbing one of the pillows and covering my head with it, I was hoping to escape his presence.

"Thought you didn't want to sleep. Without me."

I threw the pillow at him.