Smoke Break /Georgenotfound/

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I looked at him, my face emotionless, trying to hide the mess going on inside of me.

He immediately smiled, and his smile got even wider when I nervously pulled my hand away from under his.

His words made me feel something. Something weird. It was like a rush of whole-body chills and a strong tingling sensation inside my stomach.

How was I supposed to not get flustered after what he said and his stupid little grin? What's more frustrating is that I could see his grin getting wider because my face was burning, and it definitely wasn't from the sunburn.

"What?" I sounded so offended.

"Nothing," he shook his head, "you're red."

"I'm sunburnt," I said it so quickly that it was almost like I was waiting for an opportunity to use the excuse.

"You were sunburnt before," he barely leaned in, but it still felt like a dramatic change in distance, "you're a different shade of red."

Why does pushing on people give him satisfaction? He could just let it go, and I wouldn't have to roast him.

"You can't even see one shade of red."

My remark completely broke his attitude, making him laugh and lean back on the couch.

"Fair enough," he chuckled.

I randomly remembered the ice cream lying in my fridge for a week now. I even bought ice cream cones with it, yet never got to make myself one because of how busy I was spending half of my day studying and the other half on the balcony talking to this idiot.

"Do you want ice cream?" I asked.

"That would be nice," he nodded, "it's so hot in your house."

"Well, I can leave if that will help," I smirked, getting up from the couch to go make the cones.

"No.. I'm not gonna have a sushi date by myself, am I?"

"Are you gonna put 'date' after every activity we do together?" Laughing, I turned the temperature down.

"In fact, we're about to have an ice cream date," he said, making himself comfortable, rearranging the pillows to support his back better.

"Ah, I see," I turned my head, shooting him a subtle smile over my shoulder, "soo... sleeping date when?"

George's eyes widened in surprise, head snapping to look at me, while a genuine yet shocked smile spread across his face, "What did you say?"

I think he heard me well the first time.

Giggling, I went straight to the kitchen, leaving him with no response. And before he could make a remark about it, I changed the topic.

"Do you want vanilla, chocolate, or salted caramel?" I yelled from the kitchen, "You can choose multiple!"

I could tell he was still shocked by the delay of his answer. But eventually, we got there.

"Vanilla!" He yelled back.

Even though it's a matter of personal taste, I can't help but think he's mistaken for choosing vanilla over salted caramel.

"Where's the fun?" I was joking, but still.

"In the bedroom!"

He didn't even hesitate. I fought the urge to say 'vanilla in ice cream, vanilla in bed' to avoid adding fuel to the fire.

I'm glad we can't see each other right now.

Anyways, I ran some hot water over the metal scooper to get good scoops, and it helped. I packed the cones with a ton of ice cream before propping them up in a cup so that I could put the containers back into the fridge. Cleaning up a bit, I grabbed my beautiful creations and walked back to the living room.

George was on his phone, but he put it right back on the table when he saw me enter the room. I handed him the vanilla one, keeping the salted caramel to myself.

"Wow, even got the cones, huh?" At least he acknowledged the effort.

"Anything for our ice cream date," it's funny how I just accepted my fate.

"You're adapting really well," I said, noticing how he purposefully grabbed the cone in a way that our hands touched. He thinks he's so sneaky.

"You leave me no other choice. I don't come on a date; the date comes to me," I shrugged.

He smiled with a slight lift of the shoulders and a relaxed drop, "So about that.. what are you doing tomorrow?"

His question actually reminded me that I finally have real plans.

"Oh, I'm going out," I licked the sides of my ice cream, preventing it from dripping.

"With me?" His ego needs some deflation.

"No," I was too focused on my ice cream to pay attention to his face.

"With who?" And he's so invested all of the sudden.

"You wouldn't know them."

He wasn't too happy with my response, but I couldn't be bothered to pay attention to that. The caramel ice cream was hitting way too hard.

"Fine, I'll leave you alone tomorrow," he mumbled, his disappointment evident in his tone.

"That's a first," I finally looked at him and realized that I'd been licking my ice cream, and he'd been looking at me the whole time, leaving his one untouched. "It's melting," I pointed at his ice cream.

And then it was my turn to stare as he stuck out his tongue and tilted his head, expertly cleaning up the melted mess around the cone.

I'll just say that he didn't need to look that hot doing something so simple.

Blinking away was a good decision. Should've made it earlier.

"Wait- do you see that?" He held out his ice cream infront of my face, and I foolishly leaned it.

I can't believe I fell for the oldest trick in the book. He smeared a dollop of his melting ice cream playfully on the tip of my nose, making my eyes widen in surprise.

What an idiot. And he had the nerve to laugh.

"George!" I protested, torn between wiping my nose and smearing my ice cream all around his face. His stupid little giggles only fueled my desire for revenge.

I raised my hand, gripping the cone for dear life and attempting to attack him with it. But before I could make a move, he swiftly pinned my hand to the couch, along with the ice cream, leaving me whining and unable to carry out my plan.

"You thought." He laughed, quickly putting his ice cream away to handle me better.

One of my hands was free, so I attempted to use it to grab my ice cream from my other hand and finish what I started. But the moment I even thought of trying, he swiftly pinned my wrist next to the other.

"Nah ah," he shook his head, repositioning so that his one hand was holding down both my wrists.

"Noo, stop!" I knew whining wouldn't work, but he took away my ice cream with his free hand and put it on his plate, "At least let me clean this!" I scrunched up my nose, trying to show him the ice cream on it. It didn't work in terms of convincing him, but it did make him laugh.

"Promise to behave, and I'll let you go," he smiled as if everything was okay.

"What do you mean behave?" I asked, as if I wasn't thinking of smashing the cone into his face the moment I was free.

"So that none of that ice cream is anywhere near my skin," he said, so serious about it, as if he wasn't the one who started it, "got it?"

I rolled my eyes, trying to free myself, but he pressed me down even harder, "Got it?" He repeated himself.

I guess I have to make fake promises.

"I promise," I looked right into his eyes and lied. And it felt good.

Before his hand loosened its grip on my arms, his thumb gently brushed over my nose, wiping the ice cream away. I found it cute until his lips wrapped around his fingerpad to clean it up.

I was momentarily stunned, unable to look away or even breathe. It was so bad that I found myself keeping my wrists in the exact same position he had them pinned even after he let go, my body still reacting to the lingering touch.