The Misunderstanding of Fate

Chapter 10 - Truths and Lies

When I wake, I want the comfortable bed to swallow me up.

It's hard to believe that I actually cried last night after avoiding doing so for such a long time. It's even more surprising that I'd done it in front of George. He'd actually seen me cry. The scary stranger that insists on talking to me. Fabulous.

Getting out of the warmth, I remake it nicely before checking I hadn't forgotten anything. Still in last night's clothes, I quietly make my way downstairs. Where did I put my shoes? I try to remain virtually silent as I get onto my hands and knees to look under the wooden table in the centre of the room. Without warning, someone clears their throat above me. My eyes shut closed in embarrassment. I was really here, on his floor, trying to sneak out.

I slowly get up off the cold floor, coming face to face with a very smug looking George who is fighting a smile.

"God, you are so predictable."

My eyebrows furrow, "What?"

He folds his arms over his chest while keeping an eye on me, "I hid them last night because I knew you would try this stupid shit."

Yet he doesn't sound angry. Rather, he sounds quite pleased with himself for guessing correctly. I stupidly wonder what to say next: do I apologise for the tears? Or for ignoring him?

Before I get the chance to speak, he does, "Now you can tell me exactly why you ignored me, princess."

I really do contemplate lying to him... why did I need to tell him the whole truth? I'd have to explain things, share aspects of my life that I wasn't ready to fully face yet, and then he'd know everything. Instead, I decide to go for partial truth.

"You made me go to get pizza and when I got home my dad was upset. I just pinned it on him being alone and, well, that was your fault. Actually, our fault. So, to stop that I stopped you."

George stands in silence for a little while, saying nothing and giving nothing away in his expression, before offering me a nod. I'm not sure what I expect but it's not a simple nod. I think I assumed he would have more to say, maybe even tell me that my reasoning was silly. That's not what I get though. In a blink of an eye, he's changed the subject.

"What do I have to do, who do I have to pay, for you to wear that skirt every time you're in my house?"

It's my turn to fold my arms now, "That question rests on the assumption that I'll ever come back here. Who said I was returning?"

George shrugs, "Who says you're ever leaving?"

And that cheeky response silences me. Noticing my lack of reply, his lips grow into a bright smirk which makes my nerves calm. To save me from further embarrassment, George changes the subject once again. Did I want breakfast? Was I sure? Should we watch something before he takes me home? Despite my refusals, he appears to be calm George today.

"What's up with you?" I can't help but ask while he drives me home. We've had the radio on throughout the whole drive and he's been happily humming along, looking like he has no worries in the world. At my question, he laughs - a deep, soft laugh - while looking at me quickly.

"Truth?"

"Truth."

"You slept in my bed, that's what's up with me."

I scoff, "Without you, may I add."

That does nothing to dampen his mood, "Doesn't matter, princess. You smell like me and my bed smells like you. And that's something you cannot change."

George continues to chuckle in my silence while sending a smirk over at me every few minutes. The dangerous George that I had seen majority of the time is no where to be found. I should find it unnerving that he has the ability to completely change characters but I'm enjoying this laid back version too much.

When we arrive outside my house, I notice my father's car is there. Crap. He's going to ask so many questions. Maybe, just maybe, he hasn't noticed. I could be sleeping or have gone out this morning. Is that what I want to tell him? As I step out of the car, George clears his throat making me look at him.

"I'll pick you up on Monday."

Letting out a nervous breath, I inquire, "What for?"

"For school..."

I shake my head, "No thanks, I—"

"Oh you are so grounded."

And that, folks, is the voice of my father. George bites his lip to stop himself laughing as he takes in my facial expression. As I hear my dad making his way over to where I stand, I give George the eye indicating that he should leave. Of course, he ignores my hint and smiles warmly at my dad. Knowing him, dad is finding it hard not being polite and smiling back but his obvious anger overpowers any manners he has.

"I'm glad I saw this before you lied to my face in there. Where the hell have you been? Or is that a stupid question?"

The humour in George's eyes disappears at the strict tone my father speaks in. Before I even have a chance to offer a response, dad continues his rant.

"Staying with a ball, all night, and you don't even have the decency to text! I come home from work at eight to find the house completely empty. No note and no daughter. How do you think I felt?"

"Dad—"

"Phone, laptop—"

My eyes widen, "Dad that's—"

"Do not interrupt me, Luna," he's red in the face now and I feel myself become flush in embarrassment. My eyes find a serious looking George who is staring at me intently. When our eyes meet, I notice the anger in them while watching as he begins to speak.

"Mr—"

My father turns to face George, "Oh, don't worry you'll have your turn. How dare you—"

Calmly, George interrupts, "Since she was spending her birthday alone, I offered to take Luna somewhere. By the time we finished, it was late and she'd fallen asleep in my car where we stayed for the rest of the night. I didn't want to wake her so I slept in the drivers seat."

My dad goes quiet at the explanation, which is almost a complete lie, and I'm thankful for the momentary silence. The thought of my dad knowing I had broken down in tears scared me because I knew he would blame himself. His anger now was temporary but the guilt he would feel if he knew the whole truth would be more permanent. Plus, George seems a bit pissed about the birthday subject and, if we had the whole conversation in front of him, he'd hear that I made my father go to work because it was the only way he would have escaped my mother's birthday. And that would lead to more questions.

Without waiting for a response, George continues, "I'll see you on Monday, princess."

With a slight nod of my head, I shut the door of his car and watch as he drives off. I follow suit and head inside, making my way to my room to take a shower.

In the shower, I acknowledge the frustration I'm feeling towards my dad. Why did it have to be such a dramatic, public scene? Why did he have to include George in it? We clearly hadn't been getting on lately and I wonder if that has anything to do with his complete disregard for my comfort. He knew I wasn't a public person, knew I wouldn't like the thought of our neighbours listening to our conversation, but went and did it anyway.

At around six in the evening, I'm busy with homework when dad finally steps into my room with a plate of food in his hands and a white flag clutched between his teeth. Despite my efforts, the image sparks such laughter that I completely forget about the homework. Dad offers me a sad smile while placing the food on my bed and waiting for a response. Instead of giving one, I pat the space next to me and turn on the television. Hours later, when we've watched too many episodes of The Big Bang Theory, I realise that there were no apologies necessary. 

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I think they're friends now.