The Rain

Chapter 12

I basically got dragged into George’s apartment, arms wrapped around me I could practically feel his excitement as if he were a five year old. He wasn’t being suggestive, or sexual in any way. I think he was just happy to have the company. “This is my home, welcome, welcome” He bows down as he opens the door, ushering me in. His flat was pretty cool, nothing like I had expected it would be. Nothing like a lads den at all, everything in my surroundings was elegant but very George. It summed up who he was exactly, with beautifully decorated walls in blues and golds it made me question how he was able to match everything here so well.

“It’s a very nice home you’ve got here” I curtsy, my Victorian English accent a bit rusty and not that posh, it felt the need to impress now. George seemed to love it as he clears his throat ready to take the skit further. I’m really vibing with his humour right now, I’ve never met someone that is willing to go along with the skits that I come up with.

“Thank you my dear” He pretends to tip his top hat and does a little jig. I giggle, breaking character. But really enjoying this child like banter between us. I bump into him as we walk through the door, feeling like we’re getting along like we’ve known each other for year where it has only been a few days. The lack of lighting makes it very hard to see where I’m going George is holding me close which is a brilliant feeling but I don’t know what it means, how can I when he sends me mixed signals all the time. We’re too close yet again, but never really going anywhere. Except that my body thinks there’s something else about to happen, and trust me in this moment I really want something to happen between us.

He takes me by the hand, dragging me through a narrow hallway. That feeling of our fingers being interlocked only makes the butterflies I have amplify. The flat that we’re in is quite small, typical for what George does I guess. He plops down on the sofa pushing off the pillows and tapping the spot next to him with his eyebrows raised. Standing in front of him I wiggle my finger in his face, pointing at the blood still pouring out of his nose. I’m a little concerned that he hasn’t stopped bleeding yet but don’t have it in me to offer to clean it up.

“No no nothing is wrong” He exclaims, moving his head closer to my finger with his tongue out. His goofiness distracting me from the point I was trying to make. He taps the side of the sofa again for me to sit.

“George you got punched in the face, well sucker punched. I think you need to really clean it dude” I push his hair out of his face, we’re closer again. It seems were always getting closer.

“No I’m fineee, all fine see” He pokes it a little, wincing when he does. Glancing down at his finger there was blood all around it. “See! Nothing wrong!” He shows me his finger to prove a point. His point didn’t stand but at least he tried.

“You’re really not” This guy isn’t feeling a thing right now, how drunk is he? I’m sure if I got drunk like this I would still feel someone punching me in the face. “I don’t think I can help you that’s the thing” He sighs and gets up from the sofa, leaving the room I follow where he goes. He shuffles around the cupboard in the tiny cluttered kitchen until he finds some tissues and cream. He goes to hand them to me, with a complete innocence about him.

“Will this do?” he questions. I note again that the cut hasn’t clotted and feel queasy. He might actually need stitches. Oh god what if he wants me in the room with him when he gets the stitches.

“I’m not so good with cuts and blood and nope. NOPE! Can’t do it.” I run out of the room shouting sorry. “You can’t make me do it!” I pace in the living room waiting for George to come out of the room. I will probably go once I know he’s okay. I start to relax knowing it’s unlikely that I would have to help George clean his blood ridden nose in any way. I start to notice that there is a lot more personality to Georges flat, there are guitars hanging on the wall. Small 45” records as coasters on his coffee table. Sheet music as wall paper, this guy really does live and breathe music. The house phone started to ring, zoning me back into the living room. It doesn’t ring for long before it cuts to the answer phone. “George, it’s your mother. I’m glad that you showed up to that damn wedding but it was uncalled for that you bring that girl with you, who was she anyway? It looks like you picked a random woman off the street. I swear to god George if that’s what you-“. The answer phone beeped, she was cut off before her rant could continue for any longer.

“Omg who are you? George there’s a girl in our house!! Who let the girl into our house?” A guy with long brown hair, curly with piercing brown eyes appeared in the doorway of one of the rooms. He leaned so careless as if he didn’t shout at the top of his lungs making me jump. So relaxed considering that there is a strange girl in the middle of his living room.

George stumbled back into the living room holding his head back with the tissue attached to his nose. He glances at both me and the person I can only assume is his flat mate, he seems confused as to why anyone was freaking out in the first place.

“James, Eva. Eva, James. Now come to my room.” George said disinterested in the fact that I had just scared his roommate to death. He held out his hand to me again with a smile on his face- even though there was a tissue covering most of it. He still seemed cute to me.

“Ohhh that’s why you have a girl over, you’re about to get freaky” James started making kissy sounds as we walked off, making my cheeks turn to scarlet.