Page 33

George wasn’t in our tent when I woke up. Which was…unsurprising. Not for angsty, dramatic reasons, but simply because when I groggily checked the time on my nearly dead phone, it was almost four in the afternoon.

I’d slept in.

A lot.

Apparently George had not.

Even after staying up as late as we had last night, George didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who spent lazy days in bed. Knowing him, he’d probably been up for hours—in the kitchen helping his mom—or, if he was truly unlucky, getting dragged into more of June’s wedding veil drama.

Which reminded me that I needed to talk to her.

I was still hoping she wouldn’t mind me leaving early so that I could take George out, even though…that plan had been forced to change based on how late I’d slept in .

The end of June’s wedding extravaganza was creeping up on us—as was the actual ceremony itself. I had a lot of mixed feelings about that. I was stoked—because my sister was about to marry the love of her life, obviously! But…I was unsettled too.

The end of George and my arrangement was swiftly approaching.

And as enlightening as it’d been to learn about his “real life” last night, it was also a glaringly obvious reminder that he would be leaving in a few short days. He’d return to his take-out-filled Mondays and creepy ex-boyfriend-supervisor.

And I…didn’t like that.

Didn’t like it at all.

I didn’t want him to go.

I didn’t want to be apart from him.

Was it selfish that I wanted him to stay here with me?

It was …it had to be.

He’d only seen me on my “good days”. Our current compatibility didn’t guarantee to extend over a longer period of time. I’d given myself a safety blanket for a reason.

I’d wanted—fuck.

I’d wanted to…just for once…experience the kind of relationship I’d always dreamed of.

And the only way to have that, was to be certain George wouldn’t see past what I allowed. Only…I’d already told him more than I’d told anyone else. Last night. I’d opened up in a way I never had—not even with June.

I wasn’t the best at maintaining my own boundaries, obviously.

The point remained, though.

I could be a perfect boyfriend for a week. But any longer than that? Yeah fucking right. George would get sick of me. Everyone always got sick of me. I would so much rather remember this…in a prettier light. Let myself believe he was the love of my life—the one that got away—then have every wo nderful interaction tainted by seeing the… look on his face.

The same look everyone eventually got around me if they stayed long enough.

Still though…I couldn’t help but fantasize.

Fantasize about keeping him.

I’d make it my goddamn mission to take care of him. I’d spoil him rotten. We’d try anything and everything he ever wanted. I’d maybe even learn to cook, so I could feed him. I’d build him that library I’d promised. Buy him a fucking cat-tree-paradise for Mr. Pickles. Take him to stores to purchase books for his collection of gay mongooses. Hell, I’d buy him the whole fucking store if that was what he wanted.

We’d spend Sundays split between his parents’ and my dad’s. Barbecues in the summer. We’d make my place a home—he’d populate it with George-oriented things. Little items. Like his razor in the shower, or his shampoo, that I really fucking loved.

I’d see echoes of him everywhere. Every time I got home.

His dishes in the sink—actually, fuck, more accurately the dish washer.

His shoes by the door.

His clothes beside mine in the closet. Our suits mingling like they were as entangled as we were.

I’d piss him off by leaving my dirty socks places they shouldn’t be. And he’d drive me crazy with how anal he’d be about cleaning. We’d argue over crumbs on the counter—and kiss to solve our problems.

We’d adopt as many kids as we both wanted.

The pitter-patter of little feet pounding up and down the stairs. Pencil marks on the door marking every passing year. George would use my empty kitchen the way it was meant to be used. Crafts with the kids. Culinary escapades we’d all benefit from.

If George were mine, he’d lack for nothing.

I’d bend over backward for him.

We’d fight and fuck and make each other blissfully, wonderfully happy .

In my fantasy world.

The world where I wasn’t…me. Where I didn’t know how unpalatable I was. The world where I hadn’t been burned, and burned, and burned. The world where I could still believe that happy endings were possible, and people loved you—no matter how intense, or “much” you were.

Absorbed in my own thoughts, I began my hunt of the campgrounds for George—and food.

But primarily George.

I figured I’d find him in the kitchen, where he often was, spending time with his mom and siblings. Hopefully they haven’t hosted a club meeting without me. That would suck. I just joined! Mr. Milton had invited me—and wasn’t that a trip?

That he’d sought me out yesterday—and offered a personal invitation.

With words.

When I arrived at the main cabin, it was empty. Which was…strange, considering the hour. At this time, Mrs. Milton should have been prepping dinner like she’d done every other day that week—but she wasn’t. Which meant there were no signs of Georgie or any of his siblings.

Huh.

Maybe George was showering?

I checked the bathroom next, sandwich in hand. Maybe he was rinsing off the summer sweat? But nope. No Georgie in the bathroom. No Georgie in June’s cabin either. No Georgie at our tent—you know, in case he came back. And no Georgie at Joe’s tent, either.

I was, once again, perplexed.

Where the fuck was everyone?

And more importantly, where was George?

A small, insecure part of me worried I’d scared him off. That he’d somehow hailed a Ryde all the way out here in the middle of fucking nowhere and headed to the airport to escape .

What if I’d shared too much last night?

What if I’d freaked him out—talking about twenty-year-old Alex’s trauma?

What if I’d already been too much for him?

By the time I stepped onto the path down to the lake—the last possible place I expected George to be, and the only place left—the sandwich I’d eaten sat like a ball of lead in my stomach. I didn’t make a habit of getting overly emotional. Especially not about people I’d just met, so the strength of my current feelings was unfamiliar.

But even I knew George-Arthur Milton was different.

He was… Georgie .

My Georgie.

And the idea that I’d been too much for him was terrifying. Scarier than anything else I’d faced in all my life.

Jesus Christ.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. My hands shook as I pulled it out, disappointed to find it wasn’t a text or call from George—even though I already knew that was impossible. Dad. Dad was calling. Right. I swiped to answer and held my phone up to show my face.

“Hey, kiddo.” Dad’s voice was a balm on my nerves.

“Hey, old man.” I smiled, but even I could tell it was wooden. After losing the watch he’d given me—and losing my Georgie—I was feeling like shit.

“You look worried.” Of course, because he was a fucking mind reader, he immediately clocked my bad mood. Didn’t matter that I was smiling, or how good I’d gotten at masking my true emotions. Dad always knew.

“I…I’m fine. Just . You know. The wedding is so soon. I’m…stressing.” I shrugged, and Dad made an unimpressed sound. “Last minute stuff. You know how it is.”

Dad didn’t buy my bullshit.

Because of course he didn’t.

“What’s really bothering you? ”

“I…” I bit my lip. June and I had called him pretty much every day since we’d left him behind in Columbus. It was the only time I took away from George. He hadn’t ever minded—because of course not. He was a family guy. He got it.

Which meant…Dad knew a lot about George.

I blamed June and her big mouth. My soppy grin, I’m sure, didn’t help.

“I…” I almost broke. Almost admitted the thoughts that had been plaguing me. But then I saw the dark circles beneath my dad’s eyes. And I just…couldn’t. “Let’s talk about it later, yeah? My phone’s only got like five percent.”

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Dad frowned. His phone shifted, and I was staring at a very concerned eyebrow. “I know my accident freaked you out…but I’m still here. I’ve still got two perfectly functional ears.”

“I know.” I’d never been good at relying on him. Independent since I was young. His accident had only made that worse. The last thing I wanted to do was burden him with my bullshit.

“I don’t know if you do know,” Dad said, tone soft.

I laughed, but the sound wasn’t happy. “Let’s just…let’s get through the wedding, okay? That’s what’s important.”

“Alex.”

“Four percent left?—”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Learned that from you,” I replied with a smirk. Dad chuckled, but I could tell he was still worried. “Enough. Please. Can we focus on June? I’ll be there tomorrow to pick you up like I promised. We can worry about me and my drama later.”

“You carry too much, Alex. Let someone else help. Jesus. You know we all want to.” Dad’s voice was a quiet rumble. And it did help. A bit. I could admit that. “Open up?—”

“Three percent.” I scowled up at the fluffy white clouds drifting above, my heart in my throat. “You better not be working. ”

“I’m not.” I could hear Dad’s eye-roll in his voice. “And even if I was?—”

“You better not be.”

“Alright, alright,” he conceded with a snort. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yep.” When I glanced back at my phone he’d figured out the camera again. My heart ached, my internal frustration uncomfortable beneath my too-tight skin. “Tomorrow.” The next smile I gave him was softer, more genuine.

It wasn’t his fault I was a fuck up. Not that he knew that. I wouldn’t let him.

“Charge your phone and call me if you want to talk,” Dad said, because he was a nosy, lovable bastard.

“Bye, Dad.”

“Bye, Alex. Love you, buddy.”

“Love you, too.”

All I’d ever wanted was to make him proud. To be…what he needed me to be. And I’d lost the watch—I’d lost the symbol of his love. His most prized possession before he’d given it to me. He may not know now but he would soon. Just like he’d see beneath my cracks if he kept pushing hard enough.

Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I had to stand in the path for a few minutes to get my breathing under control. I couldn’t…I couldn’t fucking do this. I just—I just wanted George . Was that too much to ask? I just needed my Georgie.

This was too much.

It was…I couldn’t—if he was gone I just—I couldn’t .

I picked up the pace, cresting the hill that would lead down to the lake with my heart in my throat. My palms were sweaty. If I was being honest, my everything was sweaty. The heat beat down on me, peeking through the branches of trees, each beam like a blow.

I hadn’t drank alcohol at all last night, too drunk on George to need liquor—and yet I still felt hungover. Like my brain was a dry sponge, and my mouth was full of sandpaper.

Through a dip in the trees, I could see the sparkle of the lake .

Finally.

When I reached the edge of the forest, I frowned.

A rather large group of people were by the edge of the water.

What the fuck.

Today wasn’t lake day.

Why was everyone down here?

Curious, I continued closer—hopeful that I’d finally discovered where my wayward blond kitty had disappeared.

With every step I took, I only became more confused. Because…what I was seeing didn’t make sense. George’s entire family, as well as my cousins, Roderick, and June were crowded inside the shallows. All of them were shuffling about, hardly moving, faces tipped toward their feet. That in itself was strange.

But strangest of all, was the fact that George was among them.

Even if I hadn’t been totally obsessed with him, George would’ve been easy to spot. His height, his slight build, and his wavy sun-soaked hair were pretty distinct. It looked messy even from afar, and his usually stiff posture was even more pronounced when pitted side by side with Joe’s gargoyle-like bulk and stature.

It was tricky to jog in the sand, due to how much I was slipping and sliding, but I pushed through the discomfort as I headed straight for him. My calves were burning by the time I got close enough to see what he was wearing.

Holy shit.

Ten feet away, then five, I paused at the edge of the water, out of breath.

My pulse skipped about, jack-hammering in my chest. George had yet to notice my presence, as he had his back turned toward me. George . Germaphobic, water-repelled George. Who was…standing in the shallows while wearing a frankly horrendous pair of…wait, was that—I squinted, shocked— chest waders? These absolutely massive plastic overalls sat overtop a t-shirt he’d borrowed from my bag. It was a band t-shirt, and my personal favorite, which only made it even better that he was wearing it—like without me having to tell him, he’d somehow known that was the one I loved the most. The t-shirt drowned him in worn black cotton, but still magically managed to fit his body better than the waders did.

It wasn’t my birthday, but it sure felt like it.

This was the stuff of fantasies.

On top of the waders, George was wearing a set of fluorescent orange water-resistant gloves. They covered all the way up to his armpit, protecting him from the water he abhorred. Not that he was digging around in it much—because judging by the state of Joe, that was his job.

No.

George was the lookout. The bossy, adorable, rubber-covered lookout.

“Okay. We’re going to need to move to the quadrant at the south end. June’s already covered this area,” George directed Joe. Joe who was soaked from head to toe, as was his duty as George’s obedient minion and the person digging around in the water for him.

Joe spotted me before George did. He rose from his crouch, accidentally splashing George. Annoyed, George began to tell him off—only for him to stop mid-rant when he turned to see what Joe was looking at.

Me.

It was a testament to how tired I was that I hadn’t recognized why they were in the water sooner. I was simply…overwhelmed, by my call with my dad, my own guilt and worries, and the fact that George looked like a very fuckable parachute.

George’s eyes went wide, dark from a distance, gaze meeting mine.

For a second, the world came to a stop.

The steady lap of the water near my feet ceased to exist. The twitter of birds in the trees was non-existent. The echo of voices and splashes as the wedding party dug through the shallows was nothing but background noise.

There was only George.

George .

Who looked…exhausted. Fuck . Dark circles beneath his eyes, his hair sticking up in messy tufts, lips chapped and dry. He was sunburnt. The collar of my shirt swooped low enough over his shoulder the hickey-bite-riddled skin was unprotected.

There was this feeling in my chest.

Like a balloon expanding.

Larger, larger, larger.

“Baby, what the fuck are you doing?” I called out, even though the part of me that wasn’t frozen had already figured it out.

“I’m taking a swim because I like it,” George snarked with a grumpy eyebrow flicker. “Surrounded by…” he shuddered. “Invisible snakes .” His eyes narrowed toward the water like he expected it to be teeming with them.

His grimple was back.

Wet hands went to his hips, his posture nothing short of pure annoyance, he turned his ire back on me. I swear to god, if he stomped I was going to marry him right then and there—whether or not it meant showing up my sister during her wedding.

George didn’t stomp.

Which was good—you know, because I didn’t want June to snip my balls off—but it was also a total shame.

“Are you looking for my watch?” I inquired, heart skipping a beat.

It was the only logical conclusion.

There was no other reason George would be in the water like this. His cheeks were flushed, and I wasn’t sure if it was the sun, or because he was embarrassed to be so quickly caught out. Either way, he was adorable.

“Nosy bastard,” George muttered under his breath. “You weren’t supposed to come down yet.”

Jesus Christ.

He really was out here—doing something he fucking hated—just to…to…

“I decided last night that it was gone for good. There’s really no need to put this much work in. Or to make yourself uncomfor—” I started, only for him to cut me off.

“Fuck that. And fuck you for telling me that when I’m already standing waist-deep in fish poop.” Okay. Now there was a stomp. “You said the watch is important to you. So I’m going to find it. Stop trying to talk me out of it. I already made up my mind. You’ll lose, and you’ll just piss me off.”

That balloon expanded even more.

Wider, wider.

Till I could barely breathe around it.

“ Marry me, ” I moaned—far too loud, considering we were only ten feet from both of our nosy matchmaking families. Joe’s eyes widened comically. George splashed me instead of saying yes. Which again, proved the lengths he’d go to for…for…

For what?

For… me ?

He was…

Fuck.

And here I’d been an asshole, thinking that he’d run out on me because I told him about my wild, sad youth. And he was down at the lake—the place he’d told me he would never voluntarily go—voluntarily… going ?

Because he wanted to help me.

Because he cared about me more than he cared about his own discomfort.

No one had ever— fuck . No one had ever gone to these lengths for me. I didn’t know what to do with it. I guess now I understood why George had reacted the way he had when I’d made him a midnight picnic. Though… his gesture was way better than mine had been.

This wasn’t a sad block of cheese, an old blanket, and stolen wine.

This was…everything.

The balloon popped.

And the realization that I was desperately, irrevocably in love with George hit me like a puck to the face. I couldn’t laugh. Couldn’t smile. Couldn’t do anything.

I was frozen.

Broken.

Unable to get my brain to work.

Eyes wet, I covered my face with one hand, squinting up into the sun in the hopes that it would conceal how close I was to losing it.

I didn’t want to feel this way.

To be so undone, especially with such a large audience.

Getting caught having sex was one thing, embarrassing yes, but—this was…fuck. This was a new kind of humiliation. Like my chest had been sawed in two and my heart was out in the open for everyone to see.

“One sec.” I thought George was talking to me, so I nodded, unable to look at him, my hand still over my face. I quickly discovered that he’d actually been talking to Joe—not me. Because a short time later, after some clumsy sloshing through the water, sun-warm, damp gloves wrapped around my free wrist.

George dragged me away from the edge of the water and back across the sand.

Dazed and blind, I let him maneuver me into one of the sun loungers June and I had adopted as our own. He fussed over the umbrella, making sure I was in the shade—even though he was the one that was slowly turning into a tomato.

I heard him.

Still unable to look.

My face turned away, body curled in on itself. Making myself as small as I could. Wanting to disappear.

A cool water bottle was forced into my free hand as George yanked my shoes off and pulled my feet up onto the lounger. Only then, did I remove my hand, peeking at him warily, my chest this awful combination of full and empty all at once .

He stood back to survey his work, nodding to himself when he’d met his own approval.

“Relax,” he commanded with a bossy point of his elegant finger. “And take a nap.”

My heart wheezed.

Which was—a confusing, horrible, wonderful feeling.

No one had ever cared about me like this.

Especially when I was…so…

So…

Much.

Right now, I was at my limit of “muchness” and George wasn’t…batting an eye.

“But I should be— If you’re all out there looking for my watch, shouldn’t I be helping?” My voice was barely a croak.

“The only thing you should be doing is following orders.” George arched a blond brow.

“As you wish, your majesty,” I joked, though it felt hollow. Because I felt hollow. And full. Hollow-full. Both. At the same time. Full of butterflies, of hope, and despair. Because even though George was here right now, doing the sweetest fucking thing anyone had ever done for me in my life—it was temporary.

It was temporary.

And that hadn’t changed.

Even though I loved him.

Even though I?—

Stop it, Alex. Stop it. You know how this will go. You know. Recognizing how deeply you care for him doesn’t change that.

“I’ll be back when my mission proves successful. Until then, I expect you to focus on feeling better. Rest. Relax. Take a nap. Take some time away from…all of this.” George’s attention was split between me and his legion of watch-hunters in the lake. “June, you need to go five feet to the left—” he yelled, be fore turning back to me. “Drink your water. Did you even eat lunch?”

“I ate.” I twisted the cap off obediently and took a swig.

God, I loved his mother-henning.

So fucking much.

“Good.” George nodded short and quick. “Finish the bottle.”

“Yes, sir.” I saluted but George didn’t laugh. He did…however…lean over me, blocking me partially from view of the others.

“Are you…okay?” he asked, his severe tone dropping.

“I’m fine,” I promised.

He hovered for a second, his sweat-soaked, sunburnt cheeks close enough to smooch.

And then he kissed me. Just a peck. But still—a kiss out in the open—audience be damned. A cheer erupted behind us, which only further proved that our families were full of nosy motherfuckers.

“Such assholes,” George muttered against my mouth, but he didn’t look too miffed. Instead of storming off, or yelling at them all—he…stole another kiss, flashed me a little smile, and stalked off to go terrorize his younger brother again. The stalking part was made less intimidating by the way he waddled in the sand, like a rubber-coated penguin, squeaking all the way back to the spot where he’d abandoned Joe.

I…didn’t even know what to do with this.

With any of it.

But I was grateful. So fucking grateful.

June joined me an hour later with a new bottle of water. I woke with a groan, having actually followed George’s command like the “good boy” he wanted me to be. Guilt nearly overwhelmed me as she flopped onto the matching lounger at my side with a sigh.

“I’m sorry—” I said.

“Shut the fuck up,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s not a big deal. I chose to be here. This was a choice . ”

“But it’s your wedding and I feel like all I’ve done is make it about me—between getting your advice about George and this, and?—”

“ Alex ,” June reached out, her hand lying on my shoulder. “For once in your life, stop fucking worrying about me, okay?” She waved a hand at her face, scrunching her nose till her sunglasses slipped down the bridge. “I’m happy. Super happy.”

“Yeah?” My lips wobbled.

“Fuck yeah. I mean—look. This is…exactly what I wanted.” She gestured out at the crowd still hunting through the water. “I told you I didn’t want my wedding to be boring. That’s why we came out here for so long. And this is probably my favorite thing that’s happened all weekend. No offense. I know you spent a long time planning the other activities?—”

“None taken,” I shook my head, eyes chasing where George and Joe had disappeared farther down the shore. “I…”

“Plus. You’re not alone. And I am so…so glad you’re not alone.” June’s smile was serene, like this was exactly what she’d pictured when she’d decided to start throwing dates at me for her wedding.

“I’m–”

“Shhhh,” June understood me better than anyone else. Understood that I didn’t have words for what was happening. Couldn’t explain how much this meant to me, even if I tried. “Shut up and enjoy your man going all Devil Wears Prada on an entire camp of himbos for you.”

“But—”

“What about shhhh do you not understand? That’s ‘nice person’ for shut the fuck up.”

“My bad.” I twisted so I could ogle George even more, and June’s hand didn’t leave my shoulder. It’s like she could sense how badly I needed her comfort, even without me having to say.

I didn’t know how to ask, so I was glad I didn’t have to.

A half hour later, June had given up on our game of silence and spoiled the ending of the book we were supposed to be buddy reading together. Which was—fucking messed up, if you asked me. She’d caught up to me. Surpassed me. Then made it my problem.

I felt better. Way better. And even her fucked up choices couldn’t kill my mood.

It never occurred to me that George would actually find the watch.

I figured it was a lost cause.

As much of a lost cause as my feelings for him.

So, imagine my surprise when I heard what sounded almost suspiciously like a battle cry and George’s arms shot straight up into the air. A cheer erupted, echoing along the shore as all the others began to clap, then quickly abandoned their posts.

“What just…” I trailed off, gaze caught on George and his waddling as he struggled out of the water with Joe behind him like a giant duckling. His mom was ahead of him, and she paused by my seat with a knowing smirk.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour,” she told me. “Don’t be late.”

“Thanks, Mrs. M.”

“I mean it,” she added. “No… dalliances on the way.”

“Oh my god,” June clapped, enjoying my pain.

I did my best not to grimace.

“You too.” Mrs. M winked her way, causing June’s face to scrunch up in confusion. Then Mrs. M linked arms with her silent husband and headed up the trail. The sun was on the move, still peeking above the treetops, but soon, it’d slip behind them.

June had been disgustingly enthusiastic about the idea of me taking George out tonight. But…given the late hour I wasn’t sure he’d still want to go—even considering how badly he needed a suit. The dark circles he’d been sporting made me doubt that taking him ice skating—even if the rink was open by the time we got to Columbus—was a good idea.

I didn’t want him to fall or get hurt .

Sweet baby needed his own long, lovely nap.

George was sluggish in his rubber suit.

My heart would not slow the fuck down.

It wasn’t until he got close enough for me to see the silver glinting between his orange-gloved fingers that I let myself breathe. He’d…he’d really—had he really done it?

“Have fun, love birds!” June teased, abandoning me the second George was within the general vicinity. “See you at the rehearsal tomorrow?”

“Of course.” I agreed. She gave me a dual pair of finger guns before wandering off and leaving me alone with George.

He looked like an angel, sun behind him, sweat glistening at his temples.

“You…” I didn’t know what to say.

Without the chatter of the crowd it was eerily quiet. Just the steady lap of the water meeting the shore, over and over.

“Here.” George shoved the watch toward me.

It wasn’t rusty.

But it was certainly wet.

I grabbed it, my throat tight when my fingers met the chilly metal. I didn’t know what to say. That early overwhelm flooding through me again as I clutched the watch close to my chest, eyes pinched shut.

“ Thank you. ” My voice was barely a croak.

“You’re welcome.” George didn’t ask for anything else. He struggled into the lounger at my side with a tired sigh, head dropping back against the seat.

“I’m—”

“If you say you’re sorry I am going to strangle you.”

I laughed. How could I not?

He’d made that threat so many times by this point, I didn’t believe him anymore.

“I was going to tell you that you look cute.” I totally had been about to apologize, but he didn’t need to know that .

The look George gave me could’ve leveled a mountain. “I look ridiculous .”

“Ridiculously hot . Where’d you get your sexy lil outfit?” I inquired, genuinely curious.

“Apparently the boathouse is useful for more than just…” George’s cheeks flushed, and I grinned. “Suffice to say—” he added quickly. “There happened to be a bunch of these detestable ensembles in a closet at the back.”

“Handy.”

“Very.” George didn’t speak, though the atmosphere remained friendly. “Roderick told me about it—and then helped me find the one closest to my size. He was…very…”

“ Roderick-y. ”

“Right.”

“Thank you, again.” My thumb skimmed over the face of the watch, the slick surface drying by the second. “You have no idea how much it means to me that you did this.”

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” I argued.

“Fine then. It wasn’t nothing. But your thank yous are still unnecessary.”

I could tell that George had had enough praise for now—and I restrained myself, even though I wanted to kiss the hell out of him in his sexy-silly outfit and declare my undying fealty.

Instead of saying anything else that George would deem “unnecessary”, I reached out, fingers tangling with his gloved hand and squeezing tight. He made a pleased sound, but otherwise didn’t respond. When he squeezed back, the remaining tension in my body eased.

I loved him even more fiercely then.

Loved him for how fussily he cared. Loved how anxious he was to please. Loved his attentiveness. Loved the fact that his brand of loyalty might seem “smothering” to outsiders, but to me, it was…perfect.

For the first time in my life, I had found someone who could match my intensity.

Someone who was as dramatic and romantic as I was.

Someone who had seen me at my worst, and still wanted to hold my hand afterward.

The other half of my half-empty cup.

It was easier to breathe then, with George at my side, and the sun slowly descending.

And for the first time since I’d lost my watch last night, I realized how much easier it was to carry the weight of the world when I wasn’t carrying it alone.