Smoke Break /Georgenotfound/

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With a rough motion, I pushed his hands down from my eyes, attempting to free my vision. As I spun around to face him, I could see the grin on his face.

"That was so fucking stupid! Even for you!" I poked his chest with my index finger.

"Ow!" He made me drop my finger down, "that hurt.."

He's such a liar and he knows it. Could barely even keep a straight face trying to act like it hurt.

"It would hurt more if you fell," I poked the same spot harder, causing him to wince - this time genuinely.

"I would never do it if I thought there's a chance that I fall," he gently grabbed my wrist this time, making sure I wouldn't be able to poke him anymore.

"There's even a chance that I get a heart attack and die right now," I don't think he knew how chances work, so I explained it to him.

"Yeah and that chance is bigger cause I'm a god at parkour."

I can't even tell if he's joking or dumb anymore. He just says random stuff.

"You're so full of yourself," I slowly pulled my hand away when he let go of my wrist. The surface of my skin his hand's been covering was left burning for no reason at all - his skin wasn't hot, and his touch was as soft as it could get.

"You'd be too if you were me."

No chance he could've proved my words better than that.

"I wouldn't want to be full of yourself," only when it left my mouth the realization hit, "I mean I wouldn't want to- whatever, you got it."

"You wouldn't want to be full of myself? Okay," he shrugged with that smug stupid smirk of his. And then he left an unrelated remark that annoyed me even more, "wait, you're kinda short."

I'm not even short. I'd say he's only 5 inches taller than me. At best.

"I expect you to be at least 6 feet tall to be saying that," I looked him up and down with a scowl.

He straightened his back immediately, attempting to look taller by correcting his posture. It helped a little bit, but still, he was far from looking six feet tall.

"Who said I'm not?" He really thought he could gaslight me into believing he was two or three inches taller.

"My eyes never lie," I noticed that his hair was so fluffy as well, so I pressed my hand down to his head to flatten the dark curls, "You're 5'10 at best.. actually 5'9 without the hair."

His face said it all. He was dumbstruck that I was accurate and pissed that I ruined his hair. He had to ruffle it back to fluff again.

"I'm like seven feet tall," at least he gave up on acting serious, "and it's not the size of the body that matters."

"Yeah, it's how you use it," I finished the joke for him.

"I said the body."

He's actually really good at being annoying.

I tried to walk past him by taking a step to his left, but he mirrored my movement, blocking my way. Thinking it was an accident, I switched directions, taking a step to the right, but he did the same, blocking my efforts.

"George, you're actually getting on my nerves," I exhaled, attempting to sidestep him once more, only to be met with the same obstacle, "why are you even on my balcony? Uninvited."

He laughed, finally letting me move away. And breathe.

"That's a valid question, I should leave," he started walking back to the railing, making me grab his arm and pull him back.

"You're leaving through the door," my plan was to drag him to my house, then out of my house, then to his house.

"No, I'm not," his body barely even moved even though I was trying my best.

"Stop being stupid," I pulled from his forearm again, "move."

"You're gonna dislocate my arm."

"That's way less injuries than falling from the 11th floor," I was terrified of the thought of him slipping or losing his balance.

"If you don't want me to go, you can just say that."

As he spoke in a low voice and his accent became more pronounced, my fingers relaxed their grip on his arm. Eventually, my hand slipped from his arm, and his hand took its place, his fingers now touching mine.

And that's the opposite of what I wanted to do, so I quickly jerked my hand away.

"Okay, go die, I don't even care," I looked away from his smile and crossed my arms defensively.

"Are you gonna watch me or what?" He took a few steps back until his hands touched the railing.

I'm not even sure why he wants me to watch. But whatever, I'll watch this time.

With a deep breath, I watched him climb over the balcony railing and onto the narrow ledge. My heart was pounding in my chest as he took a few tentative steps to adjust his body, one of his hands touching the railing for balance.

Even though the balconies weren't far away, I still couldn't understand how he could get himself to do this. The drop to the ground below was dizzying and it gave me so much anxiety that I decided to keep my eyes focused on him.

"Oh god," I still closed my eyes when he launched himself forward, his legs pumping as I heard his soft landing on the ledge of the other balcony.

"See, it wasn't that bad," he spoke, finally climbing over, and I let go of a breath, seeing him standing strong on the balcony.

"I was planning an outfit for your funeral," not that I'd be invited.

"Plan an outfit for our coffee date tomorrow."

Huh?

"What?" I blinked at him.

"What I said."

Who the fuck gave him this much confidence.

"I'm not coming-"

"I didn't say anything about coming," I swear I'm about to kill him.

"I'm done with you, british boy," shaking my head, I grabbed the plate on the table and headed back inside.

"See you tomorrow then!"

What is wrong with him-