play pretend [georgebur]

prologue.

'So let me get this straight- you're asking me to fake dating you?'

Liquor never really tasted like much to Will. It tasted of chemicals- the tangible idea of taste a foreign idea to him. Yet suddenly, there's a tangy flavour along with his tongue that slurred his words.

'Yes. I am.'

The familiar burn of glorified liquid rushed through down his throat and his fingers circle the rim of the now-empty shot glass. Settling on fire in his gut, he wasn't sure if it was put-out, or simply now starting to crackle more.

'Fine, but I have a condition.'

'Fair. Name your price.' Whiskey, however, has a certain smell. A smell that in the musician's mind painted the image of temptation in tango with danger.

' Friends with benefits. You and me. It's a win-win. You piss off your man, I release some,' Will paused at the aftertaste, '-tension.'

He was met with dark eyes that under golden sunset looked like deeply saturation whiskey- olden to perfection.

'Fine.'

Whiskey, however, has a certain smell- and Will would describe it as sunset's next to a man named George. 

This very evening, 'temptation' would have agreed to dance with 'danger'.