Dad worked and drunk while barely looking at me. I know he's avoiding me because, somewhere, somehow, he's filled with guilt. He knows what he's doing to himself and what he's doing to me. The thought makes his actions even more bitter. He's not addicted to the drink, no, that's not the reason why he keeps returning to it. He could stop tomorrow, next week, next month, yesterday, last week, last month. Dad continues to spiral because it's something he can control, it's a decision only he can make, and it makes him forget.
By now, I'm used to not seeing him daily or speaking to him every other hour. Without him, I have one real, constant person in my life who I know I can rely on. And who can rely on me. George. I spend a lot of time thinking about how far we've come as a duo. Whenever I spend the night alone, I see a theoretical future where I sleep alone every night because I've pushed him away. It's enough motivation to hold onto our unusual friendship.
The greatest paradox occurs when I spend the night on Christmas Eve. A strong, overwhelming happiness consumes me as he watches my favourite old, classic movies and eats crap food that I bought this morning at the supermarket. While the warmth is overwhelming, the ignored sadness is a constant ache. My father informed me that he was 'working' tonight, even though the companies' website says it's shut for the holiday, so George and I both know that's not really where he is. I imagine my sweet, lonely father sitting in a pub somewhere surrounded by likeminded men and women who are just searching for company. A distraction.
"I haven't spent Christmas with someone for a good few years," George mumbles. Questions and questions fill my brain at his revelation. Warm hands slide over my stomach, reaching around my waist, to pull my body towards his. Absentmindedly, I run a hand up and down his arm while maintaining eye contact. Without saying anything, George tugs my arms again making my body move on its own accord. In a second, I go from sitting next to my friend to straddling him. My knees rest either side of his hips as I relax into the couch and new position. His hands, which are warm and contrast my rising goosebumps, travel up the back of my thighs to pull me even closer (if possible). From here, I look down at that boyish smirk as he stares cheekily up at me in our closeness.
"We should make this one special."
Cheeky. So, so cheeky. "Is that an innuendo?"
Those warm hands run from my thighs, up onto my waist with his fingers skimming under my top. It's weird. It's weird that it doesn't feel weird. I don't feel uncomfortable and his touch definitely doesn't feel bad or unwanted. Although I know I'm not the most knowledgable, I am sure this isn't what friends do. Not the normal, platonic ones anyway. Questions and more questions race through my mind... Were we crossing some kind of invisible line? An invisible string that we were leant harshly against, almost causing it to snap?
My hands remain planted on his arms, running soothingly up and down, until resting on his shoulders. I could relax and sit on his lap, I think I'd be more comfortable, but seeing him lower than me creates the fallacy that I have the upper hand somehow in this situation. It's a lie but it keeps me calm... calmer.
Instead of answering, George whispers, "I know what I want for Christmas." It's as though he's breathing the words out but the rough tone remains, making my stomach flip.
Stupidly, I question, "What's that?"
"For you," he emphasises, "to model every single one of your skirts."
I can't stop the laughter as a huge smile makes its way onto his face. If he was attempting to make me feel better about my dad, he was successful. It's not something I can just forget about but being here with George has made the problem more manageable.
Those hands that were just skimming up my top now rest on my sides as he watches me, the look in his eyes questioning and perplexed like I'm a science project he doesn't quite understand.
"How did you become friends with your friends?"
George looks confused, and a little amused, at my sudden question but I'm not one to hold my interest back. I often wonder how people run into other people that they keep for life. It almost blows my mind and leaves me in awe when you see relationships and friendships that have lasted a lifetime.
"School," he sounds almost reminiscent, "we all kind of gave off the same impression to people. Instantly became friends. Shared fear and intrigue bonds people."
I try not to sound childish when I ask, "Did it click?"
Obviously, the is she crazy look he gives me proves that I have failed miserably, "Click?"
"People say when you meet real friends, or partners, you click. You feel a click."
George's answering silence fills me with even more nerves. His eyes narrow and eyebrows slightly furrow making him look almost annoyed at me. What did I do now? Was that too weird of a question?
"Did you feel a click with us?"
My mind races. Is that what he's angry about? Well, not so much angry but annoyed. Was he questioning our friendship or worried I was?
"I'm not sure..." I admit, "I don't even know if that really exists. I'm asking you."
Interestingly, George's lips lift into a smirk, "You want to believe in something, don't you?"
I can't say I'm not shocked or surprised by his observation, "What?"
"You," he muses, "You really want to have something to believe in or hope for. It's damn adorable."
"Doesn't everyone?"
He shrugs, looking unbothered, "I don't..."
Rolling my eyes at his attitude, I scoff, "Of course you don't." My voice is dripping in sarcasm, I hope it's clear to him as well. This bad boy wanted to pretend he was closed off, narrow minded, again.
"Well," he probes, "What do you believe in?"
What do I believe in? The question dips in and out of my brain, testing the waters, before I contemplate an answer. What did I believe in?
"I... I—"
"Love?"
As soon as I hear the question, I regret mentioning people clicking. I wish we never started this conversation and I dread where it's headed. I didn't want to say some things out loud and I didn't want to hear what George had to say about some things either.
"Not really," my voice is soft as I take in his shocked eyes, "Do you?"
Once again, George shrugs acting unbothered, "Someone's bound to love me out there. Don't you think?"
A small giggle escapes my lips at his question while his hands skim back up my top reaching higher than before. I want to focus on his answer but when his warm hands find themselves in new territories, I can't help but focus all of my attention on George's touch. My laughter comes to a slow, steady stop as I mirror the look on his face. His eyes are serious, his lips slightly parted, as he watches me intently waiting for some kind of reaction. Warily, his hands continue their exploration reaching higher, higher, skimming the back of my bra and continuing further north despite the fact that my top follows his rising direction. Despite their warmth, George's hands become lighter so it feels as though a feather is being ticked over the skin on my back, making goosebumps rise on my arms and a light breath to leave my lips.
At that sound, George closes his eyes and presses his palms flat on my back to pull me closer. Our foreheads are resting on each other in an instant while his eyes remain closed. Without his watchful eyes, I feel free to roam his body. The first thing I notice is the slight rising of his chest and how tightly his jaw is clenched.
"Fuck," George breathes out. It's just above a whisper and it breaks the silence but it fills me with some unknown warmth. In response, I slightly run my forehead back and forth in an effort to rouse his closed eyes. A feeling of success fills me when his eyes finally reopen and our smiles mirror each other.
Despite my father being drunk right now, despite being ditched at Christmas, despite the fact that George and I are going to make a mess of cooking tomorrow, and despite the fact I have no idea what's going on in my life, I am happy.
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And that's Chapter 22.
Chapter 23 will include a very cute Christmas shared between George and Luna.
If you spot any errors on any of the chapters, please let me know! :) Also, please vote and comment on any chapters you particularly enjoy! I know where I'm going right / wrong then...
Next chapter coming either tonight or tomorrow!