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If there was one thing George hated most in this world, it was you.
Now don’t get him wrong; there are people in this world who deserve his hate but you were so damn close to first place. George, compared to some of his friends, was obviously rich. From his expensive preppy clothes and his nice car he had gotten for his birthday, he’d been more well off than most. He couldn’t control that, except was he also couldn’t control was your obvious dislike for him.
Whether it was his money or his supposed snobby attitude, you made it your goal to annoy him to death.
You had been friends with Dream and the others far longer than he had known them. You often hung out at Sapnap’s house, occasionally sleeping there when you couldn’t go home. You never once spoke about your situation at home to anyone, but Bad had been kind enough to let you stay without any questions.
You were one of those burnout kids who skipped class or went out to mess around town.
You were witty, finding humor in almost everything, even if it was inappropriate; you were blunt, it was almost annoying how you weren’t hesitant to call someone out for whatever reason; you often had the whole group on their knees for advice, despite you sometimes giving them bad advice to make you laugh and cackle like some villain when things fell apart; you took little to nothing serious and did little to nothing to get by.
He hated being around you, always managing to pick a fight with him every time they all hung out. It was a kind of banter George thrived off when they hung out, fueling the group’s need for drama and laughter. You called him a snot-nose brat or an annoying kid (when you found out he was younger than you, you began calling him kid and poked fun at him for it) and he called you a dick with little to low standards and other colorful, creative insults.
That’s how it’d been for nearly a whole two years. Nothing had changed, not until everyone’s final year of school.
Yet somewhere along the line, George actually started to like you. He thought it started around the time when you told off one of their classmate who’d been talking shit about George. You tried brushing it off as ‘only I get to talk shit about you’, but George knew otherwise. He’d tease you about it until you would send him a death glare that shut him up.
The next time you stood up for him was when they all went out to some party. George couldn’t remember whose party it was but what he did remember was the taste of alcohol on his lips and the hot, cramped room of bodies. He’d been dancing for a bit until the rum he’d been drinking hit him far harder than it usually did. He stumbled through the crowd of people and found you sitting on one of the couches. You were chatting up a girl, who seemed tipsy based on the red in her cheeks and her wandering hands all over you.
She had her brown hair pulled back, showing off her off-shouldered baby blue shirt and pretty necklace that hung deep into her chest. She seemed like the kind of girl you’d disappear with for hours at a time. Just looking at her made him pissed. George been too drunk to even comprehend his irritation and stumbled over to you, threw himself over you. You let out a sound of protest when he tried sliding himself into your lap.
“What the fuck, George?” You grimaced, pushing him off. “I was busy, go bother Sapnap or Dream if you want someone to cuddle with.”
George wanted to bite back, say something but nothing wanted to come out besides a quiet moan of pain.
“George?” You grabbed him by his shoulders and set him up against the couch cushions. “You’re really fucked up right now, aren’t you?” He heard you sigh then something along the lines of a ‘I’ll be right back, don’t move’.
It was by this time George knew the girl from before was gone and forgotten. He had his eyes closed until he felt the cold plastic of a cup pressing up against his lips. He moved his head away, not wanting whatever you were giving him.
“Hey!” You hissed, grabbing his chin in one hand to pull his head back to the cup. “Drink it, it’s water.”
He protested for another moment until he relented and drink the cold liquid. It was refreshing and welcomed unlike the burning alcohol he drank. He drank it slow and drink the cup dry. You pulled the cup back and set it aside, your hand resting on his burning, sweaty forehead then his flushed cheeks.
You cursed under your breath and frowned. George thought you looked nice under the LED lights that light up the dim party. It was sort of euphoric. “Stay here, I’m going to tell Sapnap we’re leaving without him.” You announced, standing up.
“Wait, no, I’m having fun―” George whined and tried grabbing onto you to pull you back until you interrupted him.
“George, you don’t look so good right now. You’re going home and that’s the end of it.” You turned and walked away, presumably to find the group. You returned a moment later and slowly hauled him up from the couch, his arm slung over your shoulders. He let out a sound of protest at the sudden movement but made no attempt to fight back.
You led him out the house and into your car. You got him into the passenger seat, buckling him up despite his protest that he ‘wasn’t a child and he can buckle himself up’.
You got into the driver’s seat, started the ignition, and drove out of the neighborhood and down back into town. He just sat there, watching all the lights of the stores and buildings pass by and it all began mush when he closed his eyes and was met with darkness.
When he woke up that morning, he’d been put in bed with a bottle of water and some aspirin on his nightstand. When he tried asking you about it, you shrugged your shoulders and told him to ‘run off and play with your toys, kid’. It was only confirmed that you got him home by Sapnap and Dream.
He couldn’t remember how he got into his home or how he got into bed. And there was no way anyone at home could’ve done it besides you.
It was clear you didn’t want to talk about it, but George thought it was sweet you at least cared to bring him home. Even if all he wanted to do was throw his shoes at you (He wouldn’t throw his shoes at you, knowing you’d hide them and make him walk home shoe-less.)
Without him noticing, you had become someone he could stand. You still made him want to tear his hair out, but he did laugh more at your dumb quips and made you listen to his rants of what one of his parent’s friend’s said at the country club. You still purposely made him mad to try and get him to leave, often resulting in George staying out of stubborn pride.
Despite all this, he often found himself enjoying your company. You usually sat on one of the chairs you deemed after years of being there as your own. He’d silently join you watching the TV, laying on the couch beside your chair.
It wasn’t until one summer day you and him had been watching some random channel on the TV. It was a long and hot summer that year, and almost everyone had been working in their summer jobs. It was just the two of you.
George stared at you from the corner of his eyes, eyes wandering over you. That day, you’d been wearing a tight fitting black shirt tucked into a pair of jeans with rips along the thighs.
He didn’t know if it was just the summer heat or something in the air, but he couldn’t help but think how hot you looked right now. With your arms crossed over your chest and your focused expression on the TV, all he could think about was what it was like to kiss you.
He’d seen you kiss before, but it wasn’t something he thought about until now. He knew you were far more experienced than he was and judging by the amount of times he’d seen you had someone pressed against a wall at a party or you were pulled away to some room upstairs, only to be seen at the end of the party when you came casually strolling out the house to meet up at Sapnap’s car.
You looked back at him, the emotion behind your eyes different than when you usually looked at him. It was a hard stare, one that made him shiver.
“George?” You broke the silence, shifting in your chair to turn your body to him. It gave him the perfect view of the way your jeans hugged your legs. God, the things he was thinking right now would haunt him for forever if he didn’t act on them.
“Hm?”
“You enjoying the view over there?” You said, raising an eyebrow at him, trying to come off as uninterested but the amusement in your voice betrayed that.
“Yeah, very.” George said honestly. He didn’t know where all this was coming from, but he didn’t care about that right now. All he wanted was to be as close to you as possible. He wanted to run his hands through your hair and pull on it and just feel you. “I’m going to be honest right now. You look really hot right now and I can’t stop thinking about what it’d be like to kiss you.”
“Oh?” Your face remained unreadable, but George can tell how you straightened out your back in an attempt to look nonchalant. “Well, what are we waiting for?”
George pushed himself off the couch, planting himself right onto your unsuspecting thighs and wound his arms around your neck. He pulled you close but not close enough to kiss you just yet. Your hands were resting on his hips, fingertips pressing hard into his sides. You and him sat there for a moment, lips grazing each other teasingly.
“C’mon, baby,” You breathed out a long sigh, resting your forehead against his and squeezing his hips so hard and tight. “What is it you want?”
“Kiss me,” A hoarse whisper then a pleading moan followed. “Please?”
Finally, you pulled him to you and connected your lips to his. He feels the gentle pull of your hands pulling his waist against you, a slight gasp pressed against his lips as you grazed your nails against his skin underneath his shirt. George felt you slowly use your tongue to coax his mouth open, sliding inside and exploring his mouth with such vigor.
Both of you pulled back after a few, breathing hard and you having wasted no time to trail kisses on the corner of his lips, then his jawline, and oh damn, his neck. You sucked and dragged your tongue across his skin.
He threw his head back with a choked gasp, knowing he had to have looked positively ruined with his obviously flushes cheek, rumpled shirt and hickey-covered neck.
It seemed so wrong to kiss you, but it felt so good to do it. You were supposed to hate and he was supposed to hate you too. But all he wanted right now was to be consumed by you.
What was more annoying was you looked unbothered as though you hadn’t just awoken something in him. The only thing that looked out of place was your hair from his pulling. It pissed it off how much you affected him, so much more than he did to you.
“You okay there, George?” You asked teasingly, your hand coming up to cup his face (He wasn’t going to lie and say he didn’t nuzzle into it like some cat.) “You’re looking a bit out of breath there.”
“Oh, shut up and kiss me again.” George snapped and pulled on your hair again, frustrated at the lack of connection.
“Yes, dear.” You laughed at his bratty behavior before pulling him back to you to kiss him hard.
George didn’t know if this was just one of those one-time things or something permanent, but it was only until it happened again and again. Maybe you weren’t so bad.