George is the son to parents that own a multi-million dollar eco friendly car company. Cars have never been George's favorite subject. He knows which are the most expensive on the market because of his father but he's never understood the hype.
Aft...
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"It's the way it doesn't hurt when I wish it did" It's Ok If You Forget Me Astrid S.
She was pulling on his heartstrings. Soft and languid in his thoughts, Genevieve danced around his dreamland apartment. His shirt hung low over her thicker thighs, soft with cellulite and excess skin. She used to complain to him about her body. Showed him pictures of who she used to be. When her stomach hung heavier over her hips and her arms weren't always inches in circumference. It was why her habits were so strict. The god awful health smoothies and calorie counting and doctors visits along with the unhealthy habits. George didn't know who she was before his father introduced them. He learned within three years.
George learned her hobbies, her favorite colors, her darkest and lightest secrets. What made her smile. What made her cry. What caused her spite, her anger. He knew it all like an easy monologue he remembered from school.
She was sweet in his dreams. Still cold and tiny but sweet. Her smiles shined in the sun and her hair fell over her dainty shoulder. George used to brush it away and kiss the skin there just to hear her laugh. When he woke that morning he wondered where that feeling went. The ease and want to be around Genevieve. George wondered when Genevieve stopped making him feel. He wondered if he'd ever felt anything to begin with. Maybe he'd just convinced himself?
Three years and now her doorstep didn't make him giddy. The practiced knocks didn't strike a fire in his heart. Instead, he stood numb to her and the thought of her.
The door was unlocked which was never the case for Genevieve. She had a fear of robbers even if she lived in the safest neighborhood she could find. With a bit of worry, he stepped through the threshold and called her name.
No reply.
Figuring she was in the shower, George shut the door behind him. Treading carefully through her apartment. He didn't notice the discarded clothes along the floor. Or the half empty bottle of wine on the counter. Two glasses. A foreign coat. George was far too caught up in the nostalgia of this apartment.
The time they baked a cake in nothing but underwear and soft smiles. He could still feel the icing sugar on his lips when Genevieve kissed him. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist to keep them close. The hand he used to tuck her blonde strands away clenched and tucked into his- Dream's hoodie. No, he still hadn't given it back.
The grey couch where Genevieve had poured her heart out to him and said those three words. He remembers being happy about hearing them. They felt like a success, like he'd finally done the correct thing, like he'd finally got it right for his father. George thinks back on it now and sees how right it was for the wrong reasons.
Genevieve's bedroom door was ajar. George pushed through it without thinking.
The cycle had happened with all of his past relationships. He'd like them for a while. It'd get serious and then... they'd cheat. Honestly, it wasn't surprising anymore. Although seeing Genevieve kiss someone else, hurt. He'll admit he was on his way to have the breakup talk with her. Kiss and cry and be on his way but now he felt like the only one who'd be crying. Well, maybe. His tears didn't feel worthy of this moment.
