41 | Henry
“Everything okay?”
Georgia’s soothing voice snaps me back into reality, where pages of research documents lay strewn across the small coffee table in front of us.
“Y-Yeah. I’m sorry, princess. I was texting the guys.”
“Oh,” she replies, gingerly setting down the novel she’s been reading for class. “About what?”
“I asked them if they’d help us with the fundraiser. I mentioned the idea of using the garden center… Danny’s mom definitely owes him for all the free labor. They said they’re in.”
“That’s great!”
She smiles, and my muscles instantly relax in contentment.
I’m never more calm than when I’m with her.
It’s almost midnight, and we’ve spent the last several hours at her apartment researching how to throw a fundraising event: where to buy lanterns, how to handle parking, where people can go to take a shit.
Normally, something like this – with so many small details and so much riding on our success – would stress me out beyond belief. It’s that same feeling I’ve always gotten before a really important game: nausea, sweating, panic that it won’t work out. Before Georgia, I’d probably go to the gym for a few hours, run a few miles, then get drunk with the boys until I forget about my anxiety. But, with her, I don’t need any of that. She handles every detail, every setback, every ounce of uncertainty with such grace and determination and intelligence.
If I didn’t already consider her the perfect woman, I definitely do now.
“Henry?”
Her soft voice interrupts my thoughts, my attention instantly turning towards her.
“Yes?”
“Do you think I’m pretty?”
Georgia looks up at me, her big, green eyes open wide. Her lips are slightly pouting, as if she’s afraid of what I’ll say. As if she’s asked this question before and didn’t like the answer.
“Georgia, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
“You have to say that.”
“Why would I have to say that?”
“Because you like me. I think.”
She averts her eyes, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment.
Huh, I guess I never have actually said “I like you” to her… I didn’t think I had to.
“Of course I like you, Georgia. I lo–” I clear my throat, catching myself before I say it.
You haven’t even told her you like her, Anderson. Don’t fuck it up now.
“I-I like you more than I’ve ever liked anyone,” I conclude.
“Even Natalia?”
Her gaze meets mine, and I instantly notice the tears welling in her eyes.
“Georgia – of course. Where is this coming from?”
My voice is hoarse with concern as I take her into my arms, with the only thing on my mind being to console her.
“I just keep thinking about how pretty she always looks, especially that day she kissed you. I mean, the woman’s basically a supermodel. With perfect teeth, and perfect hair, and perfect makeup.”
“Baby–”
“She’s way more beautiful than I’ll ever be.”
I draw her gently away from me, my hands delicately clasping her upper arms, and lock onto her gaze with a stern intensity.
“Georgia, that isn’t true. Not in the slightest. You are perfect.”
“You dated her. You must’ve thought she was hot.” Her voice breaks as a few tears begin to stream down her cheeks.
“I dated her when I was 18, baby. I was young and stupid. She liked me, and I thought it’d make me look good to get with the Coach’s daughter. I never really had feelings for her. I mean, the girl cheated on me with Watson and I hardly cared. I dumped her and moved on.”
“Yeah, moved on to other models, most likely,” she retorts, her tone sullen as she looks down at the floor.
“No – and even if that were true, it’s in the past. Georgia, you are the only girl I could dream of wanting to be with.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
I emphasize my point by placing a gentle kiss on her glossy lips and, as her body melts into mine, I immediately feel a sense of relief. Georgia kisses me back softly at first, but then subtly eases the tip of her tongue through my parted lips, accompanied by a needy whimper. Her slender hand reaches to cup my jaw, before sweeping up into my hair with one smooth motion. She pulls me towards her, her cheeks flushed with heat as I smoothly bite her lower lip.
She moans quietly as I slowly settle over her, the soft carpet of the living room cushioning her narrow back. With our bodies intertwined, I pin her wrists just above her head, pausing our kiss as her eyes lock with mine. Georgia’s face is blushed and rosy lips swollen with arousal as she lies beneath me. Her chest, just barely concealed by a thin, lacy tank top, heaves up and down with her rapid breaths.
“Georgia,” I murmur as I gaze down at her, my voice shaking and urgent. “Let me show you how beautiful I think you are.”