Cheeky

№ 20. I've Got Game

"Mornin' mum. Morning Chels."

"Hey!" Chelsea mumbled behind a mouthful of egg. She shifted herself over and gestured to the empty seat between herself and George's mother. George approached, giving his mom a peck on the cheek before settling in the chair.

"Made some of what you like George," his mother cooed. Finn continued to blend in with the furniture as he said not one word.

George reached over by me and grabbed a glass jar  filled with some sort of molasses-type mixture. I watched as he popped open the jar, stuck in his knife, and generously spread the tar-like substance on a piece of toast. Raising the bread to his lips, George took a massive bite, and crunched while staring back at me.

"Want some, Barbie?"

I shook my head. Some sort of ancient, innate instinct stirred within me, yelling at me to refuse the alien substance. 

"You don't like Marmite, dear?"

"Marmite?"

"Shit's bloody disgusting," Finn responded in monotone.

"There"ll be no foul language at this table, Finley," George's mother stated.

"I think she'd love it," Chelsea added.

"Look, she doesn't have to try it if she doesn't want to."

George set the jar down in front of me.

"Your call."

I took a glance at each of them, and then shifted the jar towards myself to take a gander. The stuff looked absolutely horrible,  and the smell wasn't a bed of roses either.

"I'm good, really. Thanks, " I pushed the Marmite away gingerly.

"Alright then let's go."

George stood up eagerly and grabbed both my plate and his, stacked them neatly in the sink and walked over to the coat rack where he plucked both of our coats. 

"Thanks mum. It was delicious. See you later Chels."

"Be back home before 5, George!" his mother called as he ushered me out the door. I just managed to shout a quick 'thank you' before he locked the front door behind himself.

We stood for a moment, zipping ourselves up and then breathing in the crisp morning air.

"So, where to first?" I inquired.

George smiled, his eyes catching that same mischievous light, and I knew that I was going to enjoy this day. From there on, it seemed as though George took me everywhere. We travelled down North Laine, exploring the dozens of colorful boutiques and crowds. We then rode over to the Royal Pavillion; a building out of a story book. We argued over it's architectural influences yet I knew it reminded me of the Taj Mahal. 

Finally, we arrived at Brighton Marina, and I nearly had a fit from the utter joy that burst from my body. Doesn't exactly sound attractive, but I longed to be near the water. And George brought me straight to it. It was around four and the day was starting to wind down to an end. George stopped and bought us a couple of hot teas, paying the vendor and handing me a cup. We sipped the hot liquid silently as we strolled down the board walk. I filled my lungs with the salty air, and relished in the touch of the ocean breeze upon my skin.

"Thank you so much, George."

He took a long drawl from his tea and glanced at me from the side with a crooked smile. We eventually found a bench and sat, admiring the sunset over the briny waters. I gazed lovingly at the orange streaked skies and the white sands, yet felt my vision  trail back to George who had his eyes closed.