Eyes Bright, Uptight {EDITING}

//my my, such a sweet thing// I wanna do everything//

I blushed, then thought about what kind of God-awful costume Harper would wear as I texted Matty that I'd probably home before he was.

"Wonder what Harper will be," I mumbled, placing my phone on George's nightstand, knowing it would be a while before I got a text back from Matty.

George yawned, "Maybe she'll finally show the world her true self, horns, tail and all."

He laid down next to me, my head gently resting on his shoulders.

"Ugh. She will probably look good in anything," I groaned. "She's got one of those little waif bodies that I wish I had. Her weight is probably barely three figures."

I looked up to see George's eyes roll. "Yeah, she has pancake ass and the tits of a ten-year old boy. She's a real dime."

A giggle came from my lips and I yawned a little. feeling very sleepy and very high.

"I dunno, Georgie. I think she's cute, even though she's awful. Matty probably could lift her with a finger," I rambled, rolling over to face George.

His pretty brown eyes were crinkled up in a smile and glassy from the effects of the marijuana.

"She could probably lift Matty with a finger," George chuckled, his chest heaving in and out.

Ugh. He smelled like some kind of deep woodsy deodorant or cologne or something.

"Quit hating," I mumured. "You're not even that strong anyways," I lied.

My best friend raised a brow. "I coud bench-press you and you know it."

I rolled my eyes. "Weak."

George sat up a little, resting on his elbow. "You're not graceful enough to keep still, anyways."

Ha! Who did he think he was, anyways? My parents made me take ballet for six years, and he knew it because he made fun of my recital pictures for years.

"Try me, Danes," I eyed him.

Georgie was completely up for the challenge, immediately sliding my legs across his body to where my butt was on his chest. He brought his arms along my body, one hand resting at the back of my thighs, the other in the middle of my back.

Turns out, he could indeed bench-press my fat ass. He made it to eight before I was giggling so much that my legs were starting to wobble, and I slid down into his arms in a fit of laughter. He welcomed me against him, my legs draped over his body, arms wrapped around his neck, face resting against his broad chest.

The two of us laughed together, our bodies warm and cozy next to each other, mine half-way on top of his. He was so handsome and sweet, and his body made me feel so safe.

"Told you," he bragged, his arms bringing me closer to him.

"Golly Gee, those muscles," I said in a goofy voice, my lips brushing against his collarbone as I giggled.

Georgie yanked at my hair playfully, then ran his hands through it tenderly, twisting his fingers around the waves, his eyes looking sleepy as his face became a little softer.

"God damn, your hair smells so good," he murmored, his fingertips beginning to trace the pattern of a star on the skin of my lower back underneath the fabric of my sweater. "You always smell like a fucking bakery."

"Quit flirting with me, you big perv," I laughed at him.

"You like it," he said, his eyes locking on mine as I looked up at him.

Ugh.

He knew me too well.

The both of us yawned in unison, and I rolled over to my side, George's big lanky body behind me in a tight embrace. The blanket was draped over our bodies perfectly, warm and cozy and stoned and completely at peace underneath this flannel, wrapped up in the arms of this man.

We were breathing in unison, and that always seemed to happen. That also always seemed to make me nervous, my breathing quickening a little. George's stayed the same, slow, deep melody it always was. Both of his arms were cradling me comfortably, gently. One was caressing my up my side, the other was planeted across my chest, his forearm in the crook of my breasts, his fingertips tracing the half-moon tattoo on my collarbone that matched his.

Matty hadn't texted me back.

I knew this was wrong.

Why didn't I want to move?

George maneuvered his body a little, pressing himself against me. His breathing was deep, slow, hungry. I gulped as my breathing quickened even more, my heart fluttering out of my chest. His lips were grazing my temple, my cheeks, my jaw. Subconsciously, I pressed my bottom against his crotch, and felt he was sporting a little something in those jeans that fit him so well.

His breath was in my ear now, his nose nuzzling my hairline. I whimpered a little.

I felt his lips smile against the flesh of my jaw and he he grazed the skin of my neck with his soft mouth. His hand was a little lower now, fingertips caressing the tops of my breasts. The fingertips of his other hand were dangerously close to the waistband of my jeans, toying with the elastic of my panties underneath.

The music had stopped, and my erratic, nervous breathing was filling the room.

"Am I making you nervous?" his deep voice penetrated into my ears, and I felt the depth of his soul in all of my body.

"Georgie..." I trailed off, my mouth dry, my nipples hardening and a dampness growing just beneath his reach.

I arched my neck against his mouth, begging for him to carress my flesh with a kiss, a lick, a bite, whatever he wanted.

But George had moved his mouth away, and instead kissed me softly on the temple.

"'Go to sleep, kid," he said.

A few moments later, my best friend was quietly asleep, his snores permeating my ear drums. My body was still tingling, warm, nervous, but I soon fell victim to the mid-day nap as well.

When I woke, it was hours later, and George was naturlly still asleep behind me. I groaned, not wanting to have taken that long of a nap. When I reached for my phone I realized I'd had three missed calls from Matty. And two texts.

Matty: Where the fuck are you?

Matty: Alright, Claire. I'm coming over there.

Immediately, I darted up in the bed, rolling over to shake George awake. He needed to get up and take me home, now.

He was dead asleep, the weed and sugar putting him into the most handsome coma.

"George," I said loudly, shaking his shoulders. "Get up."

He was still snoring, his face so peaceful and far away. I shook him harder, with no avail.

I crawled on top of him, then, shaking his shoulders and bouncing on him a little to wake him.

And George opened his pretty brown eyes in unison as the door to his bedroom was opening as well.