Minnie, more annoyed than I was at how I'd been totally railroaded out of the wedding planning, naturally refused to wear the matching bridesmaid dress. As a compromise the girls will be wearing one of our stage costumes instead.

Eventually I must have drifted off to sleep, as it only feels like moments before I'm awoken with a jolt. There is a loud banging on the door of our apartment. I don't know when it started, but it didn't seem to be relenting anytime soon. I look over at the clock, just able to make the time out in the darkness. It is almost half past one, so I think I've only been asleep for about two hours. I get out of bed and slip my dressing gown on. The knocking on the door continues, heavy and foreboding.

As I come into the hall of the apartment, the hammering is louder, frightening me a little. It's too much for it to be Minnie. I worry for a moment that it might be Howard. We still haven't heard anything from him, but... I wonder if I should call the police. I switch the light on and my hand hovers over the receiver of the telephone on the hall table. Another knock comes.

'Who's there?' I shout through the door, standing back from it, as if it might suddenly fly open.

'Me,' said a voice, muffled. A male voice.

'Ricky?' I ask, although I know it's not.

A pause, then, 'No, George.'

Initially I'm just relieved it's not Howard, but that's quickly followed by a chilling apprehension. 'What do you want?' I say through the door.

'Open the door, Han.'

I hesitate, biting the nail of my little finger, then I unlock the door and open it a crack, peeping out.

George, appearing a little worse for wear, stands alone in the corridor outside. He gives me a weak smile as he runs a hand through his dishevelled hair. He's still wearing his stage outfit, but minus the jacket. His shirt is untucked at one side and his tie hangs loosely around his collar.

'Are you letting me in then?' he says, gruffly.

'What do you want?' I ask again, warily, trying to determine if he's drunk or high, or both.

He rolls his eyes. 'To speak to you,' he says impatiently, as if it was obvious.

'George, do you know what time it is?'

He nods. 'Yeah, it's nearly too late.' He puts his hand up and gently but firmly pushes the door open wider.

I step back from him as he comes inside. He confidently puts his hands either side of my waist, as he pushes me backwards, the wall coming up to meet my back.

'What -' I start, but I'm silenced by his mouth on mine. I'm so surprised that for a second or two I don't react, but then, as I come crashing to my senses, I put my hands on his chest and shove him away.

'What are you doing?!' I demand. I sound breathless to my chagrin.

George puts his arm out to close the door. It swings shut with a bang. He steps towards me again, moving close to me, he's only inches from me. Too close, I should move away but I find I'm rooted to the spot.

'I'm kissing you like you should be kissed,' he says, his voice low. 

His lips find mine again. As he kisses me hungrily, I find myself kissing him back. My mind is spinning. It feels like a dream. 

'Because that was what was wrong, Hannah,' he says against my mouth. 'It's what was missing. When he kisses you, there's no feeling there, no passion, no... no fucking want.'

He breaks away from me and stares into my eyes, searching for something. 'I want you, Hannah,' he says, thickly. 'Tell me now, if you don't want me too... Because I think that you do.'

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