Fixing A Soul

29. More Bets The Better

March has arrived and I have never in my life been so eager to fly an airplane before.
I have always had awful anxiety when being in one for too long it will leave me sleepless on the upcoming nights of the departure.

Not too long ago have I officially moved in with George in Kinfauns. It's silly to recall how I decided to settle into one of the guestroom and unpack all of my clothes into the closet. Two days later, it seemed like George and I had discovered the fun of sharing a bedroom together. With that came another long episode of moving all of my precious belongings into his enormous walldrobe.

Life at Kinfauns had always been such great times. George will sit around somewhere in the huge space we have in the kitchen with a guitar or a notebook as we talked or listened to a record while he accompany me cooking dinner every other day.

Breakfast usually consist of whoever come downstairs first with a growling stomach and cook something for two. George is horrible at making scrambled eggs, the last thing you would expect from a talented man. He never fails to make it explodingly salty. Sometimes I would caught him in full concertration on measuring salt on a spoon. Realistically speaking, who has the time to measure salt? for all I've known, all of my ancestors just dash in some salt and be done with it. He's the first person I've ever meant to be properly measuring his salt.

Lunch was always unstable in the house, most of the time we will have it too early sometimes too late, sometimes we don't even have it at all! But dinner is always a must. George is such a sweet person to always lend a hand in the kitchen and later on we would enjoy the food we made together.

I'm no great cook, but I always find it therapeutic to buy fresh fruits and veggies from the grocer, chopping, washing and tossing them into whatever delicious mix I'm making inside the steaming pot.
Neither of us are much of a fussy eater. George will eat whatever is served infront of him as long as it doesn't look like a deadly rotten artifact.

Apart from the bedroom, I think the kitchen would come straight into number two as the area we spent most of our time in. There was one time where I was so keen on trying out a new recipe. I searched every pocket of my jeans to find that single sheet of paper that contain the notes I need for a specific dish.

I searched each pocket and found a neatly folded £20 note on the back pocket of on of my jeans. I'm not someone who would usually carry around spare changes in my pocket like that so I tried to regain the memory of how a £20 note could ended up in one of my pockets.

Suddenly, the memory struck me and so while preparing dinner that evening I called over to George to ask if he could lend me a hand near the stove and he walked right to me with no hesitation. "Here." I said softly as I slipped in the folded £20 note into his palm.

George asked what was it for.
"Remember when you gave me that on the night I crashed your car?" I laughed at the memory.
"You didn't use it?" George asked, still hazy in confusion.
"No, so consider this as the damage fee paid for the car." I joked. George laughed but was very insistent that I kept the money.
"George! It's bloody £20! Keep it, it's yours!" I protested and pushed him away.
We wrestled our way to the living room. George tried to give me the money back but I kept my fist tightly clenched which offered him no chance.

We rolled around with giggles and laughter and I felt the most happiest I've ever been to be living in the moment. George was wrapping himself around me and I tried to wiggle myself out from his tight grip.
"Take it or you're not coming to Monaco with me!" George threatened.
Oh he has done it. Just fuelling my ego more and more.

"That's not fair! I didn't put any threats on you!" I got one of my arm free and began tickling him, he lossened around me in an instance at the new strategy.
"Play smart not hard, luv." George said with that sly grin of his and tried to get a hold of me again.
"Take it!" He said.
"No! You keep it!" I protested back.
George began tickling me and I was trapped under him. Again.
"That's it I'm burning your ticket." He says flatly. I know him too well to know that was anything but serious.
"Fuck you!!" I said and George just laughed and continued tickling me. When both of us were half dead out of breath, George bent down for a quick peck and the money managed to slip itself back into my hand again.
"Lovely.Now I smell like you." I complained.
"Better get used to it, darling." He winked at me.
"What a bloody minx you are, Harrison."
"I know." He sighed in pride.