somewhere || George Russell

forty-three

February 16, 2020
Monte-Carlo, Monaco

George and Laurel were walking down the streets of Monaco, going back to their hotel after having dinner outside.

"Mum and dad want to get married after Calle Ocho," Laurel said out of nowhere. "It's not the cleverest reference because after Calle Ocho could mean a week after or a month after," she chuckled and shook her head.

Calle Ocho is the largest street festival in Miami and the largest Hispanic festival in USA. It's an annual tradition that brings people together to celebrate Miami's vibrant Latino and Caribbean cultures on the streets of Little Havana.

George smiled. "Are you going? I mean, Calle Ocho. I'm pretty sure you will go to your parent's wedding," he made clear before Laurel could say something stupid because sometimes, she has trouble with understanding things like these.

"Nope," she shook her head. "It's Sunday, we have a show."

"You can always ask for permission," he winked at her. 

Laurel chuckled. "What if the Tony guys go to see the show?"

"God, the Tony are really important for you," George frowned and looked at her. 

"Of course, I told you I..."

"You want to be the first Mexican woman to be nominated for a Tony..." he said from memory. "And to win, of course."

"It's likely improbable for a newcomer to win," Laurel shook her head. George parted his lips. "And before you say that I am going to win, Josefina Scaglione was also nominated in her first year on Broadway when she played Maria but didn't win. That is the standard."

"Yes, but you are not the standard," George put his arm around her shoulders and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "What if I go with you to the Calle Ocho thing?"

"You can't," Laurel shook her head and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Why not?" he frowned.

"It's on March 15th," Laurel said.

He pouted. He really can't. March 15th is the day of the beginning of the season in Melbourne. Even if he tried, he couldn't make it. 

They continued walking in silence, but in George's mind he had that one thought: what will happen every time she has something that means a lot for her and he would like to go, but can't?

Laurel sighed. Oh, how she wishes she could be with him for the start of the season, the same way he was with her on the start of her previews and the opening night.

Being apart ain't easy on this love affair.

"Did you know that Monaco occupies almost the same space as Central Park in New York?" Laurel said, breaking the awkward silence.

"Really?" George frowned, with a smile growing on his face. She nodded. "How do you know that?"

"I have like thousands of facts stored in my memory, but I never say them because during high school, my classmates would always say that my brain was a jumble of disconnected chaos," she chuckled. "But I just have retentive and good memory," she mumbled.

George smiled and pulled her closer. "Tell me another one. I love facts."

"I know you do," Laurel nodded and smiled. 

"Go ahead," he asked again, tickling her waist.

Laurel laughed. "It is not uncommon for men to fear their lover's male parent."

"I am actually afraid of your dad," George admitted.

"How can you be afraid of my dad?" Laurel frowned. "My dad is so goofy sometimes." 

"He is so tall, is imposing."

Laurel turned her head up to look at him and calculate the difference between her dad's height and George. "For four or five centimeters, approximately," she shrugged. 

Laurel's dad is 190 centimeters tall, while her mum is 170. In fact, Laurel is the shortest member of her family, with 165 centimeters height.

George smiled widely. "Your brain is not a jumble of disconnected chaos, okay?" he said and pressed his lips on her cheek. "Your brain is amazing."

"I know," Laurel shrugged. George funnily rolled his eyes. He should've seen that coming. "But means a lot coming from you."

Laurel tightened her arms around his waist. He really makes her feel extraordinary, even when she already knows that she is. But is the way he talks to her, and makes her feel like she is really one of a kind in a way that she didn't know she needed. 

George just wished that they could stay like this forever, or at least that they could capture this moment and come back to it whenever they miss each other, that is now going to be a constant in their relationship.

"If time travel existed and you could make one trip, what would it be?" George suddenly asked.

Laurel frowned. "You mean, like, have tea with Jesus, or strangle Hitler in his crib?" she chuckled.

George laughed. "What? No. I mean going back to a moment where you were happier."

"For a start, this is a preposterous question," she said.

"I am sure you have a preposterous answer for this preposterous question," George wittily said and wiggled his eyebrows. Everyone has an answer for this, even if you don't believe that time travel could someday exist. 

"I do, actually," Laurel confidently nodded, thinking very carefully on what to say. "The difference between the past and the future is nowhere to be found in the laws of physics. So, everything that I want, or need is right here, right now."

"That's a great answer," George smiled and nodded, tightening his grip on her. She always has those ingenious answers that end up being cheesier than she would like. "So, yeah, we are in the right place and time." 

"Yes, we are," Laurel nodded again looked at him, plastering a smile on her face. "And I wouldn't change a thing."