Smoke Break /Georgenotfound/

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"It's not funny," was the first thing I said when I got back to my senses.

"It is a little bit," George was still laughing.

"It would be if we were five," I grabbed a napkin and wiped the tip of my nose just to get rid of the remaining stickiness. I was too lazy to go wash it. "I'm actually mad, stop laughing."

Even though I wasn't that mad, it still sucked how I couldn't get him back. I'd try now, but I was more than sure he would react quicker than I'd even think about grabbing the cone from the table.

"Wait, are you actually mad?" George's laugh immediately disappeared, a small smile coming to replace it.

"Yes." I tried my best not to smile. My acting skills were finally coming through. It's probably because I was half-pretending - I indeed was a little bit mad.

"Don't be," he put his hand on my forearm as a comforting gesture, but his words were nowhere near being comforting.

"Wow, that helped so much, George," I grabbed his hand with mine and put it away from my arm.

He sighed, changing his position to sit up in front of me - our bodies now closer than before. I tried to keep my face emotionless, but I found myself torn between breaking into a smile or getting flustered.

"You wanna do it to me as well?" I could tell how much effort he put into getting that sentence out of his mouth.

I bit my lip, smiling devilishly, and nodded. I knew it wasn't the answer he was hoping for even before he spoke.

"I was hoping you'd say no," he laughed half-heartedly and turned his torso around to grab and hand me an ice cream cone.

"Only an idiot would say no to that," I chuckled, seeing him attempting to make a choice between the two cones, "do you wanna get vanilla'd or caramel'd?"

In response to my question, he handed me the caramel ice cream, which was already half-melted. I could already imagine how sticky it was going to feel when I smeared it on his face.

"Okay, ready?" I spoke as we both sat in front of each other cross-legged, knees bent and feet drawn close to hips.

"Don't get it on my hair."

I'm so immature that I snickered at that. And he rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a smile.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Yeah, cream me."

I snorted at that one. It was even worse than the previous one. And I'm not even ashamed for finding that funny. He asked for it.

"Do what?" I started full on laughing, the ice cream dripping on my hand from how long I held it in the air without putting it to use.

"Just fuck me up already!"

"Alright, close your eyes," I was planning to mess his face up completely; it wasn't going to be a small smear.

He did as I said, flinching slightly when I readjusted my position—probably thinking I was already going to do it.

"Don't go too hard," he spoke.

"Why, is it your first time?" I chuckled.

My mind needs cleansing.

George opened his eyes just barely to give me a judgmental look, shook his head while sighing, and then closed his eyes again.

I looked at his face, trying to mentally find a good pattern for my ice cream's journey. Yet the longer I looked, the more my motivation wore off. It was almost like his face was a work of art, and I didn't want to be the one to ruin it.

I don't think I'd ever seen him from this close. I stayed motionless, inspecting his every feature and wondering how someone could look that good from this close. His skin was flawless - smooth to the point where the only thing adding roughness to it was his stubble. His eyebrows were perfectly arched. Long, curved eyelashes rested softly against his cheeks.

I knew I'd get trapped moving my gaze down to his lips, but I did it anyway. My teeth grazed on my bottom lip lightly, looking at his rosy lips and the way they curved with a hint of a smile.

I felt drawn to them with an invisible force and only realized that I'd leaned in when I felt the heat radiating from his skin. I knew he could feel me close even with closed eyes. His pattern of breathing changed.

"You smell so sweet," George's low voice made me hold my breath, my mouth parting slightly yet making no sound.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked at my lips through his lashes. My heart started beating in my throat when I realized how close we were, and it quickened even more as I saw him lean in a bit.

"I- uh-" I panicked, instinctively drawing myself back just as much as he leaned in, recovering the distance we had seconds ago.

Lost in the moment, I didn't even feel the ice cream melting in my warm hand, dripping down all the way to my wrist. It was only when George looked at it that I snapped back to reality. He gently grabbed my arm, taking the cone away with his other hand.

"Made a mess all over your hand, darling."

I was choking on air at that point, my hand close to shaking in his grip as he started to clean it up with napkins. I sat there like a statue, not daring to even breathe as he, with a soft touch, began to dab at the melted ice cream on my hand and wrist. Goosebumps rose wherever his hands glided over my skin, each gentle stroke sending shivers down my spine.

When did I lose control over the situation? Was it the moment I looked at his lips? Why do I feel so drawn to him?

I should probably speak.

"Thank you," I finally breathed out, acting like my heart wasn't pounding in my chest, "I'll go wash my hand. It's sticky."

The stickiness wasn't bothering me half as much as the urge to cling to his neck and pull his face as close to mine as it could get.

Gladly, the moment was over and my boldness didn't come through when I didn't need it.

As I rose from the couch, the sound of a knock at the door made my head snap back. Not expecting anyone, I glanced at George, a slight frown of confusion crossing my face.

"You want me to get it?" He seemed puzzled too.

"I'll get it," I shook my head, wasting no time, and made my way towards the door.

This time, I bothered to check who it was before opening. And seeing one of George's friends, Nick to be exact, standing in front of the door and scrolling through his phone carelessly, made me tip toe my way back to the living room.

"Do your friends know you're here?" I whispered at George. And he didn't give a fuck apparently.

"No?" His voice was close to a whisper as well, "Are you okay with them knowing?"

"I don't care if you don't mind," I shrugged.

"Then go wash your hands, I'll open the door."