George #2
“You did this back then. You calmed me. Made it easier for me to speak. I’d never had that before. Someone who just…made it so simple.”
“I just shut up.”
He laughed. Good.
“No. You listened. It’s surprising how much of a difference that makes.”
“True.” He was speaking in riddles again, and I was simmering inside.
“Then I went home, and I realised that you were special.”
I growled. Because he did this. Said the words, then somehow took it all back.
“Georgie, shut the fuck up and do the listening. Because you’re not listening.”
I wanted to punch him. Not really.
“I’m listening.”
“Calm the fuck down, babe. You’re spiralling into this mess again, and you don’t need to. Because I’m not there to bring you down, but at least I’m here.”
I snorted. Not like that. More like, “stop making me cry, arsehole.”
“You smile at me, and I go all happy on the inside. You’re all touchy with me; you always were. Hanging on to my arm and hugging me and shit.”
“And shit.”
“You kissed my cheek at that first party we went to, and I was desperate to do it back. Just too chicken.”
“It was a student party. People were shagging in the corners. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“It…was for me. Because you were there with me.”
“You always do this.” I was losing my drive now. The urge to bring him down. I had wanted to, somehow, make this all his fault when most of it was mine. Because he was right. I had constantly hung around his neck. Kissed his cheeks. Pretended he was mine when he was anything but.
“I don’t. You do. I tell you everything, and you just dismiss it like…like… Georgie, I own it. I own every piece of shit word coming out of my mouth, and you still won’t believe me!”
Gut punch. Right there.
“But I’m…”
“Yes, you are. You don’t see it. You’re bloody gorgeous, and yes, you’re small and short and don’t work out, and you wear big, thick glasses, which, for the record, I keep telling you I love because they make you look hot as anything, and you’re funny and kind and cuddly, and I love you.
For once, can you just fucking accept that? ”
Not the romantic declaration of my daydreams. But very him. Absolutely him. And…
I had to let those words sink in, which was hard, because I did this. Dismissed his outbursts as ways of… I suppose flattery. So I would do the things he asked.
Like…look after his dad. Sort out his messy head. Let him come stay. Help him revise. Make him a sandwich. Kiss his cheek.
He was right about that. He always asked me to. Tapping his stupid finger against his stupid cheek. Making me kiss him.
“I’m not in the closet,” he said quietly. “So stop with that shit. Never have been. I just don’t flaunt who I’m into, not like other people. I just enjoy the company, have fun and…I just…”
“You sleep with other people.”
“I have done.” Admissions. I liked it.
“Still do,” I accused him.
“No, I don’t. Not for a while. Since Christmas… It’s… I’ve stayed over with friends and stuff, but not. Not like…you and me. I told you that.”
Maybe he had. Maybe I once again hadn’t listened. Not taken in…what he actually meant. He wasn’t always good with words. Didn’t always tell the whole truth.
And I was always…shit at listening, despite his stupid words.
“You got my dad this gig, and you made sure he was coupled up with someone nice. Someone who would look after him and make sure he was alright. That means a lot. And you’ve been keeping an eye on him? Haven’t you, like you promised?”
I had no arguments left. No air left in my lungs.
“He…” I started. I couldn’t lie to him. I shouldn’t.
“Georgie, you’re exhausted. This job? It’s not worth it, is it?”
“Your dad walked out,” I said.
“He what?”
“He left. Couldn’t take it. Oliver left too, so I think you should probably check in on him.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” he shouted.
Good. Now he was mad. Now he would leave me alone. Let me sit here and stew. Forget all the…
“NDAs. My job depends on it,” I said flatly.
“You’re so full of shit,” he replied. There was…
an undertone there I didn’t like. “You do this all the time. We almost get there, and then you try to fuck everything up. It’s what you do, and you shouldn’t because you’re so…
Georgie, you… You deserve all the good things.
To be loved, and appreciated, and seen for what you can do.
I’ve seen it, remember? We did all our final projects together, and I know…
you don’t deserve this. And stop pissing me off.
You promised to tell me what he was up to, and now you pull this out of the blue? ”
Too many words. And I was stunned into silence, because he’d not only called me out? He…he knew. All my little secrets.
“You need to stop fighting this so hard,” he said.
For the first time ever, I was listening. Really listening, as he just kept talking. All the words coming out of his mouth stinging. Cutting me. Hurting where he knew he was getting to me. Because he was.
“…and that is where I will hang up on you,” he finished. “Your choice. Your decision. I walk away, and you keep doing what you’re doing. Or you ask me to come see you on Friday and we fuck all of this out of our system so we can think clearly again.”
“What?” I’d lied. Because I didn’t think I’d understood anything of what he was saying.
“You’re either all in, or you’re out, Georgie.”
“I don’t want things to be like this,” I admitted as my thoughts criss-crossed dangerously in my head. I needed to calm down. Take control. Figure out how to… Crap.
“Are you breaking up with me?” I whispered, panic suddenly joining my body.
“Baby,” he said, and there was that smile. He knew exactly what he was doing, playing me like this. “I’m not playing games here. I’m just stating a fact. If you want this? Want to be with me, and do this, all the way?”
“I let you fuck me and then what?”
“No.” He grinned. “That’s not what I’m saying. Baby, listen.”
I was listening. Finally. Properly, as he pinned his eyes on me.
“I want you. I want everything with you. And for that to happen, we both need to drop the bullshit and realise that we’ve probably been together since college.
Probably loved each other the whole fucking time.
I’m just playing catch-up with all of that, but you need to stop having your head so far up your arse that you can’t see your own worth. You’re mine. You’re amazing. You’re…”
He sniffled. Scratched his nose.
“You’re worth so much more than the bullshit you’re going through at work and living in that crappy flat and feeling so worthless.
Because you’re not. You’re loved and…” He smiled knowingly.
“Have someone who wanks off to the thought of your little nose and your smile and that cute dick of yours exploding into my hand. So hot, baby. So make your mind up. What do you want? Because if you want it? You’ll have to come get it. ”
“You said you were coming here?” I was so stupid. So bloody stupid.
“No. I said I’m going to get my stupid brother and get in the car and go sort Dad out. Then? When you’ve had a sleep and sorted your pretty little head out? Then you let me know what you want. All of what you want.”
“I know what I want,” I stated. Clearly. In a proper voice. Like my work voice.
“I know you do.” He looked at me. Stared me down.
“I want to be your boyfriend.” I wasn’t lying. “And everything that goes with that.”
“Not good enough.”
He was going to be the end of me.
“I…” I started, but then stopped. Because I knew what he was after. I did actually listen.
“I’m your baby,” I said. It was hard, but it came out. “And you love me.”
“Good boy,” He whispered.
“I want you to fuck me.”
“I want that too.”
A quiet smile. I couldn’t quite meet his eyes, but I finally did.
“I’m worth everything,” came out of my mouth. “And I deserve better…than this.”
“Finally,” he said. “Go to sleep. Just sleep all this off. I’ll see you in a bit.”
He hung up. And I had no idea what was going on, but I did what I was told. I curled up, still in my suit and tie, and then…I slept.