Ain't She Sweet

35

"Oof." His face slammed into the sturdy and unforgiving floor.

"God, are you alright Geo?" My knees fell to the ground, though I was helpless in denying my smile.

"Argh." He groaned with longevity.

I shook my head, stroking the towel across his soaked hair. "You'd best dry off. I'll go find you some clothes."

"That feels so good." He hummed tranquility, as I caressed his crown.

"I'll be back soon. Just sort yourself." I rose, leaving the poor child painfully stretching an arm out for the towel.

While I gave George the privacy of restoring his dignity and average body temperature again, I made a quick stop by Paul's room.

"Grace." His smile emerged from behind the door, impressively looking more put together and fresh-faced than George had been.

"You slept?" I interrogated.

"I'm assuming we all did. Roughly four hours or so."

"I see." I furrowed my brow, realising perhaps George had been locked out longer than I had realised.

"So how may I help you?" He asked.

"I need some spare clothes for George."

He smirked.

"Don't be weird Paul." I pushed him aside, asserting my presence in the room. "Just a shirt and some jeans?"

He rolled his eyes, tossing me a few articles from the suitcase I had practically packed for him.

I tossed them over my shoulder.

"You're the best, thanks." I chirped, leaning over the kiss him on the cheek.

He inhaled profoundly, snaking his arm around my waist to embrace me entirely.

"You smell lovely." He noted.

"Hotel soap." I chuckled awkwardly as he cupped my shoulders in his palms, in which I admired the close proximity of his breath against my face. "Works magic."

He laughed, manifesting a glorious smile only typical enough of him alone to illuminate the entire room. With little crinkled on the edges of his eyes as he smiler, he patted me on the back briefly before releasing me.

"I'll see you downstairs then." I said, reversing agilely for the door.

He simply nodded with a kind smile, his arms folded rather pensively and his body perched on the frame of his bed.

How strange, I thought as I left him, slightly displaced. Such a peculiar aura he had projected. Perhaps he had taken something? I tried not to worry myself though and focused on the twenty-year-old task at hand waiting, crippled, in my bathroom.

Upon returning to the room, to my surprise George stood erect with the towel wrapped immaculately around his waist and his hair half dry, merely waiting for his clothes.

"Here you are." I smiled amiably, passing him the heavenly-scented fresh clothes. "You're looking much better."

"Thanks." He blushed. "You're wonderful Grace. Thanks for the help."