The Dancer | #5✓

Chapter 24

I was at George's place today, but today was different. Very different.

I followed George back to his apartment after work. It had been around seven-thirty when we got back, and around ten at night when we finished watching a few episodes of a series on Netflix. I took a shower, and George went in after me. When he was gone, I had wanted to change into clothes but a part of me decided to forget about that and do what I've been wanting to do for a while. I put my towel away and climbed up to George's bed, sitting at the edge completely naked as I waited for him to finish showering. I was flustered, my face was red, and from time to time I wanted to climb back down and get into clothes. I resisted the voice inside my head that was telling me a looked disgusting, and that what I wanted to do was a bad idea.

I reminded myself that this wasn't about romance. I didn't need a sexy pose, or some rose petals. This was about being comfortable in my own skin around George, and the sneering thought at the back of my mind was wrong.

I took in a deep breath, trying my best not to freak out and put on some clothes before George could see me naked. I was sitting on his bed, swinging my legs as I looked down on at the carpet from above. Sometimes I would feel bile rise in my throat, but I was able to stop myself from puking. Why was George taking so long in the bathroom? It was as if he knew I was sitting on his bed, butt-naked, and he didn't want to look at me—

I shook my head, trying to get the thoughts out of my head. Don't freak out. I told myself, gripping the skin of my thigh with enough force to make me wince. I suddenly felt like what I was doing was stupid, and all I wanted to do was climb down the bed and get into my night clothes before George could see me.

"Hey—" George said, pausing as I looked over at him. He blinked at me before looking away. "I'm sorry, were you changing?" he asked, running a hand through his wet hair. My heart was beating. He looked so nice with his hair slicked down around his face, and I envied the way he was completely confident with his body. George wasn't a six-pack god or anything. He had a little belly fat and freckled skin, but I liked it, so it didn't matter. George had his green towel wrapped around his torso and seemed to be deciding if he should head back to the bathroom, or if he should just turn and face the wall while he waited for me to change into my clothes.

"I wasn't changing," I said, bringing my feet up to the bed before hugging my knees to myself. I was starting to feel skittish. "I'm going to bed like this," I explained, hoping that he would understand what I was trying to do. George looked up after a while. He was still having a hard time looking straight at me, so his eyes kept darting to the curtains at the side. My lips felt dry, so I licked them, wondering if he was nervous or if he just didn't want to look at me.

"George, I'm not expecting anything special, if that's what you're worried about. I just want you to change and come and lie down with me like normal," I said, hoping my voice wasn't cracked and shaky. Maybe I sounded immature and demanding? I don't know... I just really wanted things to go well. George finally looked at me properly. His eyes held mine and I watched him dry himself before hanging the towel on the hook nailed to the bathroom door. He walked over to the bunk bed, still naked, and a small smile took form on my lips. I took in deep breaths, playing with my fingers as I watched him take a hold of the ladder's sides, before he started to climb up.