⇾ 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 | 𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐸𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡: 𝐷𝑜 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝐾𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑎 𝑆𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡?

❝ 𝐿𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛, 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡?
𝐷𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙?
𝑊ℎ𝑜𝑎, 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑟
𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑎𝑟
𝑆𝑎𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟
𝐼'𝑚 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑜𝑜ℎ... ❞

***

George was hoping that everyone would still be asleep when he snuck back in at nearly two in the morning. Unfortunately, it seemed that wasn't the case.

"Fancy seeing you here." He heard John's sarcastic voice from behind him as he was trying desperately to close the door without making any noise. When the door finally snapped closed, George put his head down on the wood, feeling the coldness of it against his forehead.

He closed his eyes. "What do you want?" he asked.

"This have any relation to that note that pretty bird slipped you at the party earlier?" John asked. When George turned, he could see him sitting in a desk chair next to the window. The moon was at just the right angle to where it was blanketing John's features in light, just enough for George to make out the sly grin he had on his face.

"Yes, it does, actually," George admitted, hoping that the moonlight didn't stretch far enough for John to see the blush that was creeping its way onto his face.

"Well, I hope you had a good time. You've certainly got more going for you than we do."

"Whatever you think happened is wrong," George said simply, taking off his jacket.

"You didn't sleep with her?" asked John, a doubtful tone in his voice.

"What? No, of course, I didn't."

"Then what the hell were you doing out past midnight?"

"As crazy as it may sound," George began. "That was the girl I met last night." He snuck a look at John, who raised his eyebrows.

"George? You do know—."

"We're not going to be here forever," George said before John could finish. "I know, I know."

"So what is exactly happening with her?" John asked curiously.

"Uh—." George didn't really know how to respond.

"Complicated?" asked John.

George nodded. "I suppose you could say that."

"Tread lightly, Geo," John said in his wise, older-brother fashion. "I'd hate to see you go off and get yourself hurt."

"I'll be fine. Thanks, John."

***

When Elouise made it back to the house, she slipped inside as quiet as she could. When the door was closed and she'd turned to go up the stairs, her mother rose from a chair in the living room, one that was overlooking the window on the front of the house.

Oh, God.

"Mom?" Elouise has dread deep inside of her. She really hoped that her mother wasn't drunk again. She really did.

Her mother turned around with a relieved look in her eyes. "Where were you? Who was that boy?"

"I—." Elouise had no idea what to say.

"You can tell me," said Gloria. "It's not like I'm mad. You're eighteen. I can't tell you no."

"His name is George," Elouise blurted.