George Russell 8x Race Winner Apologist

It was very rare for you and George being out of your cosy hunting lodge.

Especially when you were both wanted by the police to give an explanation for some disappearances of a few women.

Those were your trophies. The ones you proved your true worth to your beloved George.

Your mind was already filled with darkness and twisted love for him, you would do anything he had on his sick mind, you wouldn’t hesitate.

Because you were so devoted to him, now as his wife.

Watching the shiny wedding band on your hand, you giggled to yourself at how pretty it was.

George proposed after you were done stabbing your last victim, blood still fresh on your hands, when he slid the polished silver ring down your finger, coating it in that warm redness.

There was something about how that diamond glistened with the fresh blood.

Something that was scary and terrifying, but your brain was already wired with the thrill of the killing.

“What are you thinking about my dove?” A gasp left your throat when George pressed his lips on your bare shoulder from behind.

Out of every city in the world, he chose Paris for your honeymoon.

Your eyes lifted to glance at the Eifell tower standing tall near the balcony of the apartment he booked online (saying something about people that owed him), and you sighed dreamily.

“I’m just still in awe of this beauty you gave me. Along with your last name, of course.” You turned your head to meet his lips in a hungry kiss.

“Mmm… I have something even better for you. Come on.” George breathed against your cheek, leaving a wet kiss there.

He didn’t have to tell you twice, because you followed him inside the bedroom, eyes wide with excitement.

Seating you on the edge of the bed, the fabric of your silk dress riding up, revealing the skin of your thigh, George rummaged through his bag.

You were growing impatient, taking in his broad back enveloped in the dark navy blazer he wore along with the buttonup shirt underneath. You wanted to tear it off, to reveal his muscular body, the one you loved to map with your tongue.

These thoughts left your core throbbing with ache, you knew that he’d give you what you wanted soon, but you simply couldn't wait. Still, you acted like a good girl, just like he loved.

Turning around to face you, he kneeled in front of you, parting your legs slightly, having a nice velvet box in his hands.

Glancing down, you noticed his look first, he was so vulnerable, the glow in his eyes was mesmerising, he cherished you to the bits. Then at the box, the dark red one, with a ribbon on it.

“Oh?” You inhaled sharply.

“This is my wedding gift for you. The special one. Open it.” George commanded you softly, the box resting in his palms.

One shuddered breath later, you took off the ribbon along with the lid of the box, only to lay your eyes on the hunting knife.

But it wasn’t just any other knife.

It had your initials carved in the blade, your fingertips running over it with unbelievable gasp.

“George… this is—“ your voice was shaking.

He frowned in confusion. “You don’t like it? I thought…”

“No, oh god, no, George, it’s perfect. I love it.” Your eyes welled with tears of joy.

Visibly, his features relaxed, his smile turning into a smug smirk.

“You got me scared for a while, my little lamb.”

“I didn’t mean to, Georgie.” You felt your heart sink in your chest, inhaling sharply at the possibility of you hurting him.

“That’s okay, darling. I’m glad you like it.” He patted your cheek, traveling down your neck with his fingertips, feeling how your skin was fluttering there from your frantic heartbeat.

Grabbing the knife from the silky plush, you admired it in light, the sharp blade shining with the threat of death.

“So beautiful.” You whispered in awe.

“You deserve it. After all you’ve done for me. For us.” He stood up, his hand resting at your collarbone.

“Thank you.” Your eyes locked into his, all he could see was true devotion.

“Mmm… you’re very welcome darling.” George suddenly took the knife from your hand and he quickly ripped the straps of your dress. “Now strip, my dove. I have some ideas to try with this knife.”

The dress was gone in a moment, leaving your body bare and without any underwear. George let out an approving grunt, putting the tip of the blade under your chin to make you look up at him.

“I know you’re drenched with ache just from this little thing… it’s time for me to make it up to you, you behaved like a good girl. I love you so much.”

You almost moaned at the way he praised you.

Then the tip came down your throat, grazing its way across your delicate skin, stopping at your breasts. Your hands were at your sides, gripping the sheets already, your body trembling from the coldness of the metal.

Swallowing hard, you could see how George was focused. He knew how much he had to press against your skin to draw blood and he did his best to not do so.

You were aroused even more from how the sharp end of the knife poked gently against your nipples.

“You’re so sick, my little lamb.” George said while gripping his hard cock through his pants.

Your devoted nod with the pupils dilated was everything, you didn’t have to say a word.

“Open your legs, my love.” The simple command you obeyed so quickly, your glistening pussy now on display.

“Mmm… pretty. All for me…” he hummed, getting on his knees, wandering down with the knife, teasing you by grazing your skin in the groin.

Your mouth was making all the delicious noises, hips buckling forward, but carefully because you didn’t want to get hurt there.

George placed a soft peck on your clit, causing you to gasp audibly, then again softly brushing the tip of the blade over your pussy.

“You’re dripping so much, dove, I think I have to drink it all up.” Placing the knife on the bed beside you, he delved into your folds immediately, feasting on you like a man starved.

With your hands tugging at his hair, your face twisted with lust, you moaned his name loudly, not caring about neighbours.

“Georgie…”

He was a sucker for you calling him that, only you could do it. If anybody else tried to do so, they’d surely be dead.

“Mmm… you taste like a divine angel. So delicious.” His hands wrapped around your thighs, pushing you to lay down on your back, his tongue buried deep in your hole while his nose nudged at your clit.

“Oh fuck—“ you whined, playing with your tits, he caught it with the corner of his eye and chuckled into you, the vibrations of his voice taking you close to your climax.

“Georgie! Please— please, please, please!” You were begging and wasn’t it the greatest song for his ears?

Adding two fingers while his mouth closed around your clit, you were done.

That was it.

Screaming from the top of your lungs, you tugged on his hair maybe too hard, but he didn’t care, he did everything in his power for you to enjoy your peak.

Giving you a last kitten lick over your pussy, he crawled on top of you to claim your lips, grabbing you by your neck, squeezing your windpipe for a little, just how you loved it.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, groaning into the kiss.

Once he parted from you, to look deep into your soul, he smiled wickedly.

“I’m gonna fuck your brains out, my little lamb.” Whispering against your lips, he was on his feet again, leaving you messy and trembling, watching him how he took off his clothes quickly, his hard cock now sprung free.

Giving himself a few strokes, making all those pathetic sounds, he took that hunting knife again, pressing it against your throat.

Your eyes went wide with a little fear that was replaced with something more devious.

While you held your legs open for him, he slid the angry tip of his dick through your slick folds, slapping your clit.

“You little whore. Looks like you love the threat of being killed and fucked at the same time, huh?” His words almost send you down to the pits of sanity.

“Yes, yes, sir.” You knew how to use your words.

“Good girl.” Pushing past your entrance, your velvety walls enveloping around his length, you mewled like a wounded animal.

George grunted burying his dick so deep, he could taste your cervix. Taking in your breathless state, how you were blank in your mind, face flushed, it was absolutely sweet madness to him. Leaning down, to kiss your jaw, he pressed the knife even more into your soft skin.

“If only I could delve this knife into your guts, to see the blood seeping out of your body and fuck you till your last breath.” A whisper into your ear, the one you should be scared of, aware of your safety. But instead you clenched wildly around him, so he laughed into your face.

“My wife. Being aroused from the possibility of being skinned alive by her husband. Delicious. Magnificent.”

“Move. Please. Georgie.” You whined, not caring about the knife drawing a little blood on your neck, only focused on how he was filling you and not giving you the pleasure you wanted.

“I can feel how you’re milking me already, little lamb.” The knife was forgotten somewhere on the floor and he grabbed your hips, slamming into you with each rough thrust.

His eyes fell on your chest, your tits bouncing, one of his hands reaching for your breast and groping it with such a brutal force that left a mark.

Not caring about any pain, your eyes rolled into the back of your skull, your fingers stuck in your mouth from how you felt lost in your overwhelming pleasure.

Leaning down again, George took your nipple into his mouth, biting you, so much that you were bleeding a little.

“Red suits you, darling.” He grunted and picked up a quick pace of his hips, the sounds of your slick bodies connecting filling the room.

“Geo— G— I’m—“ you choked out, your gaze filled with panic from the creeping wave of release that was pooling in your belly.

But George decided to torture you a little. His movements almost stopped and your face twisted in confusion, your hands reaching for his hips as if you could make him move faster just like that.

“This pussy wants to cum, huh?” His thumb found your clit, giving it one or maybe two circles and then he slapped it.

Your mouth went wide open, eyes almost prickling with tears and you let out a strained moan.

“P—please—“

“You want to squeeze me with your sweet cunt, darling? Is that it? You want to wrap yourself around me?” And another smack.

Tears falling down your cheeks, you nodded, crying from the overwhelming sensation you felt in your whole body that was burning with desire.

“Yes, sir.” You whimpered, a hiccup leaving your throat.

Moving closer to lick your tears away, his blazing blue eyes pierced into yours with a sick grin.

“You’re so good to me, little dove. You shall have it.” Straightening up into his kneeling position, his hips rolled into yours again, his thumb flicking your sensitive and swollen bean until you were crying out loud, shaking and squeezing him tight from the wave of pleasure that crashed into you violently.

George was unable to hold himself back, pulling out of you quickly and crawling to your head, you still in your orgasmic haze, and he grabbed you and fed you with his twitching cock.

Your gags filled the air, tears staining your face again, while George fucked your throat.

A few loud moans from him later, he was filling your mouth with thick spurts of his seed, holding your nose between his thumb and index finger to force you to swallow.

After he was sure you were done, he let go of you, your head falling against the sheets with heavy pants of your laboured breath, drool all over your chin.

Seeing you like this, completely ruined and used by him, was satisfying the darkest corners of his soul, his thumb wiping the corner of your mouth from the droplet of himself.

“That was a hell of a ride, my love.” And then he kissed you again, not giving you time to catch your breath, his tongue exploring every spot in your mouth to capture a taste of him.

“Mhm…” you were unable to form words, your eyes half lidded, in total bliss of having your brains fucked out.

George then helped you into the bathroom, cleaning you up, taking care of the scratch on your neck and the bite mark on your chest.

Lying in the bed wrapped in the bath robe, cuddled against his side, you watched some movie on the tv, his fingers caressing your head.

Then you remembered that hunting knife, and the idea struck your mind.

“Georgie?” Your voice was small when you lifted your gaze at his face.

“Hm?” He glanced at you with interest.

“I have another awesome idea what to do with that knife you gave me.” Your smile grew wide and dark.

His brow cocked upwards, corners of his mouth curling into a smirk. “Enlighten me, little lamb.”

You sat up, letting the bath robe fall down your shoulders. “We should carve our initials into our bodies.”

George blinked twice, his lips parting at the vision, but he was more shook that his little innocent dove was suggesting that.

Cupping your face with both hands, he pecked your nose and licked your lips a little, staring into your eyes.

“You are a match made in hell, darling. I’d love that. We should do that.”

© All stories and written content created by me is not allowed to be used without my permission. If you wish to share, quote, or use any portion of my stories, please contact me directly.

“Turning around to face you, he kneeled in front of you, parting your legs slightly, having a nice velvet box in his hands.” Omg what is he up to…holding my breath

“It had your initials carved in the blade, your fingertips running over it with unbelievable gasp.” ON BRANDDDD

““You got me scared for a while, my little lamb.”” His pet names are so 🥴

“He knew how much he had to press against your skin to draw blood and he did his best to not do so.” He’s a professional ofc

“He was a sucker for you calling him that, only you could do it. If anybody else tried to do so, they’d surely be dead.” LOVE

““My wife. Being aroused from the possibility of being skinned alive by her husband. Delicious. Magnificent.”” 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

““Geo— G— I’m—“ you choked out” UNABLE TO EVEN MAKE WORDS

““This pussy wants to cum, huh?” His thumb found your clit, giving it one or maybe two circles and then he slapped it.” HOT HOT HOT HOT HOT

“holding your nose between his thumb and index finger to force you to swallow.” OH MY GODDDD

“You sat up, letting the bath robe fall down your shoulders. “We should carve our initials into our bodies.”” YOU SHOULD SEE MY FUCKING FACE OH MY GODKEBRGKEGB PLEASE THIS IS UNREALLL

1 year ago

The rain lashed down in sheets of silver as you stumbled out of the function suite, the cold instantly soaking through every layer of fabric. George was already several paces ahead, his black suit clinging to him as though the storm itself was trying to hold him back.

You'd known this moment was coming.

For months, he'd been slipping further away from you. The late nights. The unanswered calls. The conversations that grew shorter until silence became easier than trying to fix whatever had broken between you.

Tonight was simply the night he finally admitted it.

The heavy doors slammed shut behind you with a dull thud, making you flinch.

"Just say it already, George."

He stopped walking.

For a moment, he didn't turn around. His shoulders rose with a slow breath before he finally faced you. Rain plastered his curls against his forehead, droplets clinging to his lashes as his eyes met yours.

"I... I just need to go home, okay?"

The words landed like a knife.

Your gown clung to your skin, almost transparent beneath the relentless rain, but you barely noticed. The water disguised the tears spilling freely down your cheeks as you stared at the man you loved...

The man you were already losing.

"Away from me?" Your voice cracked into a sob as you scrubbed at your face with the back of your hand. "Stop dragging this out and just fucking say it."

His jaw tightened.

For the briefest second, he looked past you towards the empty car park, as though somewhere out there he'd find the right words. Some explanation that would make this hurt less.

Instead, he only shook his head.

"I..." His voice caught. "I just need to go."

His hand lifted helplessly, gesturing back towards the brightly lit ballroom.

"You should go back inside."

You let out a hollow laugh.

Three years.

Three years together, and that was all he could give you.

Without another word, your fingers reached for the delicate gold chain around your neck. The clasp gave way beneath trembling hands before you pulled it free, the tiny silver '63' charm glinting beneath the floodlights.

You thrust it towards him.

"Take it."

He stared at the necklace but made no move to reach for it.

"I don't want it anymore."

His expression crumpled.

"Please... please, just—"

The ballroom doors burst open before he could finish.

"George!"

Toto hurried through the entrance before his eyes landed on you instead.

One look at your tear-streaked face was all it took.

Without hesitation, he crossed the distance between you, wrapping you tightly against his chest as you finally broke. The necklace slipped from your fingers, landing with a quiet splash in the puddle beneath your feet.

Neither of you spoke. Together, you watched as George climbed into his Mercedes.

The engine started, the headlights swept across the rain-soaked car park. With one swipe, his car was gone and so was everything you’d built. 

The boot of the car slammed shut as you pulled the front door of your house closed behind you, the familiar click of the lock sounding strangely final in the quiet morning air. Your entire life had been packed into the back of Max’s Audi, squeezed between suitcases and overnight bags, everything you needed for the summer reduced to whatever you could fit inside the car.

“Did you really need an entire bag dedicated to your skincare?” Max huffed as he slid into the driver’s seat. 

“Yeah…yeah funny enough Max, I did.” Your seatbelt clicked as he started the engine, the familiar growl of the Audi filling the quiet street. “Some of us like to arrive at our destination looking vaguely human.” 

Max glanced across at you, one eyebrow raised. “You’re going to be living in a beach house for a month.” 

“Exactly, and where is a beach house usually situated, Max?” You laughed, “The beach, correct.” You interjected before he could answer. “And I’ll need suncream, A.K.A protection!” 

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he pulled away from the curb, shaking his head as though you were the most ridiculous person he’d ever met, despite the fact that he spent the better part of a year voluntarily putting up with you. 

It had started almost exactly twelve months ago, although neither of you could have known then just how much your friendship would change both of your lives. 

You had barely spoken to Max before that driver’s ball. You knew him, of course, everyone who was in the paddock knew who Max was, but knowing someone and knowing them in the way you knew him now were two entirely different things. Back then, you had been trying desperately to hold yourself together after George had ended your relationship, forcing a smile onto your face and pretending that having your heart broken in the middle of a room full of billionaires was something you could simply brush aside. 

Max had been the one to notice. 

He had found you outside, crying into Toto beneath the soft glow of the terrace lights, and rather than offering some empty reassurance or telling you that everything happened for a reason, he had simply just sat beside you. He listened when you needed to talk or vent, and somehow managed to make the worst night of your life feel just that little bit less lonely. 

One conversation had turned into messages the following morning, which had turned into coffees between race weekends, which had eventually turned into a friendship that neither of you had expected. 

Now, a year later, you were moving into his beach house for the summer. 

“You’ve got quiet,” Max said, glancing over to you as you stared through the passenger window. 

“I was just…thinking.” 

He looked at you from the side, unable to hide the smirk forming. “That’s dangerous.” 

You nudged his shoulder with yours before settling back into your seat. Max laughed under his breath, shaking his head as the road stretched out ahead of you. 

The rest of the journey passed easily, filled with music, arguments over what constituted an acceptable road-trip playlist and several attempts to convince Max that washing his face with a bar of soap he uses to wash his body with too, wasn’t skincare. 

By the time his car finally turned off the main road and followed the winding path towards the beach house, you had almost forgotten about everything waiting for you there. 

The house came into view beyond the trees, sitting high enough above the shoreline that you could see the ocean stretching endlessly behind it. Sunlight glittered across the water, the pale exterior of the house glowing beneath the afternoon heat, while several cars were already parked along the driveway. 

You instantly recognised them, the ones that would arrive loud and proud in the paddock. 

“They’re here already,” you said, peering through the windscreen. 

“Yeah, looks like they found the key under the mat.” Max laughed, pulling the car into park. 

Lando appeared first, sunglasses pushed through his curls as they sat on top of his head. Shortly, he was followed by Oscar, Charles and Alex, all four of them making their way down the steps towards the car. 

“There he is, the lion king.” Lando called, lifting a hand as Max climbed out. 

You opened your door and stepped onto the gravel, stretching after the long drive before Lando immediately made his way over to you. 

“Look who decided to show up!” He joked. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about us.” Charles added, pulling you into a hug.

Alex came over next, giving you a warm hug before stepping back with a faltered grin. You and Alex were close, at one point. Your ex-boyfriend’s best friend. But the conversations soon stopped after the break up. “I’m glad you came.” 

You smiled. “Me too.” 

For a moment, it felt easy. The sun was warm against your skin, the sound of the ocean carried faintly through the trees and your friends were gathered around you, already talking about how the next four weeks looked. It was exactly what you had imagined when Max had first suggested the idea to you. 

But Alex’s expression wasn’t like the others. It was full of internal dread and panic. 

His eyes flickered towards Max before settling briefly on you, uncertainty crossing his face. “Max, could I grab you for a quick second?” 

Max frowned slightly but followed him a few steps away from the group, leaving you standing beside Oscar and Charles as Lando began enthusiastically explaining something about a boat and two dogs. But you weren’t exactly listening, just nodding at the right moments so you didn’t come across rude. Oscar was seemingly doing the same thing, probably after hearing the story for the third time today. 

Your eyes remained on Max, he glanced over at the house and then back at Alex. The words were faint over conversations, but you could make out bits and pieces. 

“What do you mean you invited him?” Max exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. 

Your stomach dropped. You knew who ‘he’ was. Alex rubbed the back of his neck, looking increasingly uncomfortable. “I didn’t know she was coming.” 

Max’s eyes immediately found yours. Alex lowered his voice. “I thought it was just going to be us. I invited George last night when he asked me what my summer plans were…I couldn’t lie.” 

For a second, Max said nothing. But then he looked back at the drive, where the others were still completely oblivious to the conversation happening just a few metres away. 

Suddenly, the summer you were promised, was going to be different. And judging by the look on Max’s face, he knew it too. 

By the time the sun had begun to sink toward the horizon, the beach house had settled into the kind of comfortable chaos that seemed to follow these boys wherever they went. 

Music drifted through the open doors from somewhere inside, occasionally drowned out by bursts of laughter, the clink of beer bottles and glasses and the distant sound of the ocean rolling against the shore below. The air had cooled just enough to make the evening comfortable, although the tiles around the pool still trapped the heat of the afternoon beneath your bare feet. 

You had escaped the noise almost without anyone noticing. The pool was empty, the surface illuminated by the small lights beneath the water, and for the first time since arriving you felt like you could finally breathe. You slipped beneath the surface and let the water swallow you whole. 

For a few moments, there was nothing. No conversation, no questions, no awkward glances, no memories of a relationship you’d spent the last year trying to put behind you. There was only the muted sound of your own heartbeat and the gentle pressure of the water surrounding you as you moved slowly from one end of the pool to the other. 

You surfaced, taking a deep breath before pushing yourself beneath the water again. It was easier here, you thought. You could pretend that the past couldn’t reach you if you stayed underwater long enough. 

Eventually, your lungs forced you back towards the surface. You pushed your head through the water, sweeping your hair away from your face as you caught your breath, completely unaware that someone had arrived at the house while you had been swimming. 

You heard the unmistakable voice of the past. It was muffled at first, carried through the open doors and across the warm evening air. 

There was something about the sound of it that your body recognised before your mind could catch up. The familiar tone, the cadence, the slight launch that followed whatever had been said. You had heard that voice every single day for years. 

You’d woken up beside it, fallen asleep to the sound of it, heard it call your name from another room, heard it laugh across dinner tables and whisper against your ear when nobody else was listening. 

Your fingers tightened around the edge of the pool. For a moment, you couldn’t move. 

The water that had felt like a sanctuary only seconds earlier suddenly felt impossibly cold, despite the warmth of the evening. 

You climbed out slowly, grabbing the towel that had been left beside the pool and wrapping it around yourself. You pulled it tightly across your chest, as though a thin piece of white cotton could somehow protect you from whatever waited beyond those doors. 

Your feet were still dripping onto the stone beneath you as you began walking towards the house. 

The pool filter whirred steadily somewhere behind you, its mechanical hum becoming strangely loud in the silence between your thoughts. Water dripped from the ends of your hair and disappeared between the pale cracks in the tiles, while the soft yellow light spilling from the house stretched across the ground in long, uneven stripes. 

The closer you got, the more you could hear. You stopped several feet from the large white doors. The paint around the frames had begun to chip from years of salt air and sunlight, tiny flakes curling away from the wood, and one of the doors was hanging slightly open, allowing the warmth and noise from inside to spill into the garden. 

You could see shadows moving across the walls through the window. You could hear George’s laughter. 

Your chest tightened at the sound. You weren’t ready, but you weren’t sure if you would ever be. Your hand tightened around the towel as you took another hesitant step towards the doors. 

“Hey,”

You stopped in your tracks before your foot lifted into the doorway. Max stood behind you—you didn’t even hear him approach. His lion nickname matched his real life stance as he creeped around everywhere like a cat. 

He had changed out of his clothes from earlier, swapping his jeans for a simple t-shirt and shorts, his hair untamed and damp from his shower. He looked at the house before turning back to you, and whatever he saw in your expression made his own soften immediately. 

“You don’t have to go in there, not if you don’t want to.” 

You swallowed. He was the only person who truly knew the heartbreak you endured. “I know.” 

“No, I mean it.” His voice was gentle, almost deliberately quiet so you wouldn’t have to compete with the noise coming from inside. “You don’t have to face all that tonight.” 

You looked back at the doors again. “I don’t think I have the energy to do it all with an audience.” You admitted. 

“Come on,” he whispered, holding his hand out to you. 

There was never any judgement in his voice, no expectation that you should be stronger than you felt. He was just simply, Max. The same Max who had found you alone at the driver’s ball a year ago, sitting beneath the terrace lights with tears on your cheeks and a broken heart you had been trying to hide. 

You wrapped your fingers around his, you turned away from the house and Max fell in step beside you without saying anything else. You slipped quietly through one of the side doors, avoiding the main room entirely, and made your way upstairs while the boys continued below. The further you walked, the quieter it became, until the music was nothing more than a distant vibration beneath your feet. 

Your bedroom was at the end of the hall, overlooking the darkened ocean. 

You changed into your pyjamas and climbed beneath the covers, pulling them up towards your chin as though you could bury yourself beneath them and wake up to find the entire thing had been a dream or maybe it was a nightmare. 

Max remained standing by the door. “You sure you’re okay?”

You looked at him, pleading eyes looking through your lashes. “No.” 

He gave you a small, understanding smile. “That’s okay.” 

He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb you as he leaned back against the headboard. For a while, neither of you spoke. The room was quiet enough that you could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning and the crash of gentle waves against the shore.

The tension that had been holding your body rigid since you heard George’s voice slowly began to disappear, replaced by the exhaustion of a day you hadn’t realised taken so much out of you. 

“You’re not going anywhere are you?” you murmured sleepily. 

“No,” he hummed. 

“You promise?” 

Max looked down at you. “I promise.” 

Your eyes finally closed. You felt the mattress shift slightly as he adjusted himself, but he stayed exactly where he was, sitting over the sheets beside you while your breathing gradually slowed. 

Max watched you for a moment, his expression softening as he looked at the person who had somehow become one of the most important people in his life. He reached across and gently pulled the blanket a little higher over your shoulder. 

“I’ve always got you,” he whispered. 

Morning arrived quietly, the first thing you noticed was the warmth. 

Not from the sunlight filtering through the curtains or the soft heat of the room, but the warmth of another person sitting beside you. Your eyes opened slowly, taking a few seconds to adjust to the pale light spilling across the bedroom, before you turned your head towards the other side of the bed. 

Max was still there. He had fallen asleep exactly where he’d been sitting the night before, his back resting against the headboard and his arms folded loosely across his chest. His head had fallen slightly to one side, his expression softened by sleep in a way you rarely got to see when he was awake. You couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your lips. 

You carefully pushed the covers back, moving as slowly as possible so you wouldn’t wake him. Your feet touched the cool wooden floor, and you paused for a moment when the mattress shifted underneath you, waiting to see if he stirred. 

You slipped into your dressing gown, tying the belt securely around your waist and quietly made your way towards the door. The house was almost completely silent when you stepped into the hallway. 

It was difficult to believe that only hours earlier, the entire place had been filled with music, laughter and voices overlapping each other, competing for attention. Now, there was nothing but the faint hum of air conditioning and the occasional creak of the wooden floors beneath your feet. 

You crept downstairs, determined to get ahead of everyone else before the house inevitably came alive again. 

The kitchen was bathed in early morning sunlight, the enormous windows overlooking the beach and ocean. The sea seemed to stretch endlessly over the horizon, its surface catching the first golden rays of sunlight as small waves rolled at the shore. 

For a moment, you just stood there. It was beautiful, you thought, waking up to this every morning. You walked over to the counter and reached for a glass, filling it with cold water before leaning against the kitchen island. Your fingers tightened around the glass as you looked out toward the beach, allowing yourself to bask in the quiet. 

You took a sip of water from your glass, then someone cleared their throat from behind you. 

You nearly dropped the glass from spinning around so quickly—your dressing gown slipped slightly from one shoulder, your heart hammering against your ribs. 

George was sitting at the dining table. An empty plate sat in front of him, a coffee cup sitting beside it, and his attention was fixed entirely on you. 

For a second, neither of you spoke. Seeing him was different to hearing him. 

Hearing his voice last night was enough to make your entire body freeze, but standing in the same room as him now brought back a thousand memories you had spent the last year carefully pushing to the back of your mind. 

He looked almost exactly the same. And somehow, that was the worst part. 

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You placed the glass back on the counter. “You didn’t.” you murmured, adjusting your dressing gown back over your shoulder. 

George glanced at the empty chair opposite him before looking back at you. “Can we talk?” 

You hesitated, but eventually nodded. 

He gestured at the chair, although you remained standing. 

“I didn’t know–Alex didn’t know you were coming,” he said. 

You nodded slowly. 

“I don’t want to make things awkward,” he continued. “Especially not for everyone else. This is supposed to be a good summer break, and I don’t want people feeling like they have to choose sides or something.” 

Your fingers flexed at your sides. “I don’t want that either.” 

He nodded, taking a short sip of his coffee. “I just want us to be able to be in the same house and not make it a…thing.” 

You looked at him for a moment before giving him a small, single nod. “Yeah, so do I.” 

George seemed relieved at the answer. “I don’t expect us to be friends, you know.” 

“I don’t think either of us have to worry about that.” 

He pursed his lips, almost looking embarrassed. 

You interjected the conversation before he could have another word. “I just want to have a good summer with my friends, George.” 

“That’s what I want too.” 

There was something strange about how easy the conversation was. You had spent months imagining what your first conversation would look like, wondering if you’d cry, or be angry, whether you would feel your heart break all over again but instead, you felt tired. 

You picked your glass back up and turned to walk back up the stairs, ready to escape before the rest of the house woke up, but you had barely reached the first step before George called your name. 

You stopped, panning yourself back to him. George was still sitting at the table, his arms resting against the edge as he looked to you. 

“What, George?” 

His eyes flickered to the staircase, then back to you. “Are you and Max just friends?” 

For a moment, you just stared at him. The question was so unexpected, that you almost laughed. “Obviously.” 

George’s expression remained unreadable. 

“He’s my best friend.” There was no hesitation in your answer. 

George nodded slowly. “Right.” 

You held his gaze for another second before turning back and making your way up the stairs. “See you later, George.” 

The days that followed settled into an unexpected rhythm. 

You and George existed in the same space without really existing together, passing one another in the kitchen in the mornings, exchanging polite greetings when necessary and occasionally finding yourselves at opposite ends of the same conversation when everyone else was gathered around the table. There was no hostility between you, but there was a careful distance that neither of you seemed interested in crossing. 

And strangely enough, you were okay with that. 

The beach house had its own way of making time feel slower, the mornings disappearing beneath the heat of the sun and the afternoons stretching lazily into evenings filled with food, music and the occasional argument over who cheated during some made up game Lando made you all play. 

By the end of the first week, you had almost forgotten why you’d be so anxious to start with. 

There had been late nights around the fire pit, everyone gathered under the stars with drinks in hand while stories from the paddock were shared and retold, each person somehow making themselves the hero of whatever disaster had occurred. Lando’s championship win had obviously become the favoured subject…by Lando. 

He had spent an entire evening recounting the final few races with increasingly exaggerated hand gestures, insisting that the championship had been won because of his superior driving ability, while Oscar repeatedly reminded him that nobody else remembered events happening quite the way Lando described them. 

You had laughed until your stomach hurt most nights. 

You had spent so long believing that the presence of George would make every moment feel uncomfortable, but somewhere between the first evening and the seventh, you had stopped thinking about him at all. And tonight was no different. 

Fairy lights were strung around the garden, their warm glow reflecting across the surface of the pool and illuminating the trees surrounding the house. Music was softly playing from the speaker balancing on the window while everyone gathered around the pool with drinks in their hands. 

You were sitting on one of the sun loungers with Max behind you. At some point during the evening, you had ended up sitting between his legs, your back resting on his chest while he lounged behind you. It wasn’t something either of you had thought about doing; it simply happened, as natural as leaning against him during a film or stealing his hoodie when you were cold. 

Max’s arm rested loosely around your waist, his hand occasionally tapping against your side as he laughed at something one of those boys would say. You didn’t think twice about it–it came as natural and honest as breathing. 

“I’m telling you, right now, I was robbed.” Lando insisted from the opposite side of the pool. 

“You won the championship, though?” Charles replied. “How exactly were you robbed?” 

“Of the recognition a reigning champion deserves.” 

Charles laughed, shaking his head as he took another sip of his beer. 

Max rested his chin on the top of your head, as you all continued to laugh at Oscar’s dry rendition of Lando’s winning radio speech. 

George watched from across the garden. He had been watching for longer than he cared to admit. His beer sat in his hand, condensation gathering against the glass as his fingers remained tightly wrapped around it. Every so often, his thumb picked absentmindedly at the corner of the label, peeling back a tiny piece before smoothing it down again. 

He couldn’t seem to stop looking. 

It wasn’t the physical closeness that bothered him. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. It was the ease of it all. 

The way you laughed with Max without thinking about whether you were being watched. The way you leaned into him when you laughed. The way that Max seemed to know exactly when you were about to say something before you even said it. 

George had once known all those things. 

He used to know what made you laugh until you couldn’t breathe, what songs you secretly loved but would never admit, how you took your coffee and which side of the bed you always had to sleep on–even in hotels far from home. 

And now Max knew all of this. The realisation made something uncomfortable twist inside his chest. 

“You alright mate?” 

George looked up, Alex was watching him. “Yeah, fine.” 

Alex’s eyes dropped down at the bottle in George’s hand. “You’ve been destroying that label for about ten minutes.” 

He glanced down, the corner of the label was almost completely destroyed.

“I, uhm, didn’t realise.” 

Alex followed his gaze across the garden, neither of them needed to say what they were looking at. 

The sound of your laughter drifted through the night air, and his jaw tightened again. “I think I’m gonna have another beer.” 

“But–you’ve already got one?” Alex questioned. 

“It’s gone warm.” 

Alex raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. George stood and headed towards the kitchen, pushing through the open doors and into the kitchen. He reached into the fridge, pulled out another bottle and closed the door. He barely had time to twist the cap before Alex appeared behind him. 

“You’re jealous.” 

George’s head snapped towards him. “I am not jealous.” 

Alex leaned his back against the kitchen counter, folding his arms. 

“You’re acting like she’s your girlfriend,” Alex stated. “You lost that privilege to love her, you made that decision.” 

George opened his mouth to speak, then stopped, because from the garden he heard your laugh and his heart jumped painfully in his chest. 

He could picture you without even looking. Probably curled up against Max laughing at something stupid Lando said, completely unaware of the conversation happening inside. 

“The only right you have now, is the right to hope she’s happy and healing from what you broke, man.” 

George just swallowed, the lump in his throat more prominent than ever now. He looked over at the open doors again, and through the glass he could see you sitting beside Max, your head thrown back as you laughed. 

Max looked down at you with that knowing smile and something inside George twisted again. “I know.” 

All that he knew was that watching you be happy with someone else shouldn’t hurt this much. And yet, every time you laughed with Max, his heart raced as though some part of him was still desperately trying to convince himself that you belonged beside him. Even though he was the one who had let you go. 

By midnight the evening had completely descended into a controlled-chaos, none of you were entirely sure how many drinks you’d consumed. 

There were empty beer bottles scattered across the kitchen island, abandoned glasses balanced on windowsills and somebody—not naming names—had somehow managed to spill their sticky drink across the coffee table, and left it dripping onto the hardwood floors. Music was blasting from the speaker, loud enough to vibrate through the wooden floors and carry out into the garden, while laughter seemed to come from every fibre of the house. 

Lando had given up on pretending he was participating in any particular conversation and was currently lying on a flamingo pool floatie in the middle of the water, his sunglasses perched low on his nose despite the fact it was pitch black outside. 

“You know you look ridiculous, right?” Oscar laughed, his Australian accent prominent after a few drinks. 

“I think you’ll find I look incredible.” Lando pointed. 

You laughed from your position poolside, watching Lando attempted to sit upright on the floatie and ended up tipping sideways and sending a wave of water over the edge of the pool. 

Max barely reacted, he was too busy beating Oscar at beer pong. “This is humiliating,” Oscar muttered as the ball bounced of the rim of the cup. 

“Yeah, for you maybe.” Max said monotonously. 

You knew you were drunk, but not the falling-over kind but the pleasantly, wonderfully drunk. Like the kind where the edges of everything felt softer and your inhibitions had disappeared somewhere around the fourth beer. 

The night just felt…perfect. And maybe that’s why you decided to take a moment away from it all. 

You slipped away unnoticed. Nobody called after you as you wandered down the stone path leading to the beach, your shoes abandoned somewhere near the pool. The warm tiles gave way to cool stone beneath your feet before eventually becoming soft sand. 

You smiled to yourself as your toes sank into it; the house becoming a quiet, distant hum behind you with every step. The sand was cool beneath your feet now, the tide creeping steadily towards the shore until the first wave curled around your ankles. You stopped at the waters edge, it was cold enough to make you gasp, but you didn’t move away. 

Instead, you looked out at the horizon. The moon reflecting faintly across the surface of the water, broken apart every few seconds by a movement in the waves. For the first time all evening, there was pure silence. 

For about two whole minutes, before you heard faint footsteps behind you. 

You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. You felt his presence before you heard his voice. 

“You always did like running away,” 

George had stopped just a few paces behind you. 

“Ha,” you released, “pot calling the kettle black.” 

He moved to stand at the edge of the water, hands shoved into his pockets of his shorts, his hair slightly dishevelled from the evening’s antics. He looked different under the moonlight, softer somehow, and for one dangerous second you remembered why you loved him. 

And then you remembered why you didn’t anymore. 

“What do you want, George?” 

He just shrugged. “Nothing.” 

“Then why did you follow me?” 

His eyes dropped down at the water lapping his ankles. “I don’t know.” 

You laughed quietly, but there was no humour behind it. “That seems to be your favourite answer.” 

His head snapped to you, “what is that supposed to mean?” 

Your hands clenched into fists at the side of you. “It means you never know anything!” 

You watched as his expression hardened, his jaw clenching. “That’s not really fair.” 

“Is it not?” Your head tipped to the side, sarcastically. 

“No.” 

You turned back towards the ocean, crossing your arms. “You want to know what’s not fair? Spending months wondering why my boyfriend couldn’t even look at me anymore.” 

George was silent, so you continued before he could answer. 

“You’d come home and barely speak to me. I’d ask how your day was and you’d tell me you were tired. I’d ask if something was wrong and you’d tell me nothing was wrong. I’d try to make plans with you and you’d cancel them because you had something else to do.”

“I was busy.” 

You kicked the sand underneath your feet, “you were always busy.” 

“I had a lot going on,” he mumbled. 

Your voice cracked slightly. “I understood every single time you told me you were tired. I understood when you cancelled dinner because you’d had a bad day. I understood when you needed space. I understood when racing was difficult and you didn’t want to talk about it.”

He just stared at you, an unreadable expression written all over his face. “I never wanted you to feel alone.” 

You scoffed, shaking your head. “But I did.” 

George squeezed his eyes shut, “I thought you knew,” 

The words hung between you. 

“I thought you knew I was struggling,” he continued. “I thought you knew that when I pulled away, it wasn’t because I didn’t love you.”

You shook your head, “and how was I supposed to know that?” 

“Because I thought you knew me.” 

Your voice broke. “I knew you better than anyone, George. That’s why it hurt so much when you stopped letting me in.” 

He took a step towards you—you just stared at him, unable to understand how he could be so calm. And for what felt like an eternity, the only sound was the ocean. 

“I thought if I pushed you away, you’d eventually realise you were better off without me.”

You felt something inside your chest break. You swallowed, looking down at the water around your feet. 

He continued before you could find the words to say. “I thought I was doing the right thing.” He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I know now that I wasn’t.” 

“Knowing it now doesn’t change what happened.” you breathed, wiping under your eye quickly, refusing to let him see the tear that had escaped. 

“If you came here to tell me all this George, I can’t—” 

He interrupted again before you could finish. “—I can’t stand watching you with him.” 

You froze, the tears almost stopping on command. “What?” 

“I can’t sit back and watch you and…Max, act like that.” 

You raised your eyebrows, shocked at his comments. “He’s my best friend.” 

George laughed bitterly. “Yeah, I don’t sit with my best friend like that. Like…like you belong there.” 

You ran both hands through your hair, pulling gently at the roots in stress. “You don’t get to be jealous! You don’t get to question my friendship with Max after you spent a year convincing me you didn’t want me.” 

“I never said I didn’t want you.” 

You shook your head, unable to contain the anger and sadness burning inside the pit in your stomach. You turned toward the house, he didn’t stop you. You walked past him, the water slipping away from your ankles as you stepped onto the sand. 

But after a few steps, you heard his voice behind you. 

“I never stopped loving you.” 

You stopped, closing your eyes to stop the tears from forming again. But you didn’t turn around, because you knew that if you did, you might see something in his face that would make walking away much harder than it needed to be. 

“You should’ve told me.” You muttered, and continued walking. 

You barely made it halfway back to the house before the tears had returned. 

You had wiped at your face several times, but there was no point pretending you could hide them anymore. Your makeup had streaked beneath your eyes, your hair was damp from the sea and the cold night air had raised goosebumps across your skin.

Behind you, George followed at a distance, neither of you had uttered another word. 

The music from the house grew louder with every step, laughter carrying across the garden, completely unaware of what had happened down on the beach. And as the soft sand became the stone path, your eyes met Max’s. 

He had left the others behind and was walking towards you, his expression shifting the second his eyes landed on your face. His gaze moved from you to George standing several metres behind you. He didn’t need to ask what happened, it was like he already knew. 

“Hey,” he whispered. 

And that was all it took. A sob escaped your chest as you crossed the remaining distance between you, and Max immediately opened his arms, pulling you against him. You buried your face into his chest, gripping the front of his shirt as everything you’d been holding inside finally spilled over. You could feel his arms tighten around you. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured, one hand moving slowly over your hair. “I’ve got you.”

You could hear footsteps sounding behind your embrace. Lando appeared first, followed by Oscar, Charles and Alex, all of them looking between you and George with expressions that quickly shifted from confusion to understanding.

George had finally stopped at the edge of the garden, his eyes fixed on you in Max’s arms. 

“This is exactly what you wanted.” George spat. 

Max’s head lifted from your shoulder, the softness disappearing from his expression. “What?” 

“You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted me to see her with you.” He gestured towards you. 

Max carefully moved you slightly behind him, Lando pulling you closer to him and Oscar. “I didn’t want anything from you.”

George stepped forward, Max following suit. “You’re her best friend, right? That’s what you keep telling yourself.”

Max’s expression hardened once again. “That’s exactly what I am.” He glanced back at you, you were quietly crying, your fingers gripping onto the sleeves of Lando’s shirt–then he looked at George again. 

“You lost someone who worshiped you.” The garden fell into absolute silence. “You had someone who would’ve followed you anywhere, who would’ve stood beside you through every bad weekend, every difficult season, every shitty day you thought you couldn’t get through. And you threw it all away.” 

George swallowed. “That’s not–” 

Max pointed at nothing in particular, just toward George and the beach. “You don’t get to be angry because she survived it.” 

George looked away, unable to find the words to make any of this better. 

“You don’t get to be jealous because someone else knows how to make her smile. You don’t get to question what we are because you suddenly realised you don’t like seeing her happy without you.”

You could see how George’s jaw clenched. But his silence was deafening. 

“You need to accept what you did.” 

Alex stepped forward before either of them could say anything else. “Okay.” His voice was quieter than Max’s, but it carried through the silence. “Maybe we’ve all had a little too much to drink tonight.” He glanced between them. “Let’s not make this worse.”

Max held George’s gaze for another second, then he looked over at you. His expression softened immediately. “Come on.” You nodded. He gently nudged you behind him before turning back towards George one final time.

“You have to live with the consequences of your own actions.”

George didn’t answer, there was nothing left for him to say. 

The others slowly began to move toward the house, Lando was unusually quiet, Oscar glanced back at George before following and Charles gave him a long, unreadable look but said nothing. 

Alex remained with George, he looked at his best friend standing alone at the edge of the beach, then towards you disappearing into the house with Max’s arm wrapped securely around your shoulders. There was nothing for him to say either, nothing that would help George or the situation. 

Max kept you tucked against his side as you walked back towards the house, his arm resting firmly around your shoulders while you leaned into him. 

But behind you, Alex and George remained standing on the beach. And for the first time since you had arrived, George was completely alone with the consequences of what he had done.

Morning came with the uncomfortable weight of everything you had to drink the night before. 

Your head throbbed faintly against the pillow, your mouth was dry and your body ached with the strange exhaustion that followed a night of too much alcohol, too much laughter and far too many emotions. For a few seconds after waking, you had no idea where you were or why you were still wearing the clothes you’d put on the night before.

The memories flooded back in snippets of drunken-windows of clarity. You squeezed your eyes shut, allowing yourself a moment to breathe before slowly sitting up.

At some point during the night, Max had clearly found you asleep and covered you with his hoodie. The oversized Red Bull sweatshirt hung around your body, the sleeves far too long for you, falling past your hands and brushing against your thighs–you instinctively pulled it closer around yourself. 

The house was quiet at this hour. At least, until you heard the muffled voices and the sound of suitcase wheels on the hardwood floors. 

You slipped out of bed, careful not to make a sound, and crossed the bedroom before opening the door just enough to peer into the hallway and leaned over the railing. 

Alex and George were standing in the kitchen below. You couldn’t see them clearly from where you stood, but you could hear every word.

George’s voice was quiet but you could hear the faint mumble of his words. “I shouldn’t have come.” There was a pause. “She’s moved on, Al.” 

Your fingers tightened around Max’s hoodie cuffs. 

“I watched her last night,” George continued. “I watched her with Max, and I can’t keep doing that.”

The words settled heavy in the quiet house. “I think I need to put a world between us.” 

There was something painfully final in his voice. “She doesn’t need me hanging around making things complicated. She has her friends. She has Max. She has a life that doesn’t include me anymore.”

For a moment, you considered slipping back into your bedroom, it would’ve been easier, you could’ve let George leave without another conversation, allowing last night’s argument to become the final chapter of something that had ended a year ago. But you knew you didn’t want that. 

With all the courage you could find, you pulled the sleeves of Max’s hoodie further over your hands and carefully began walking down the stairs. Alex was the first to notice you, his eyes widened slightly before he looked towards George.

George finally followed his gaze, and there you stood—bare legs beneath the oversized Red Bull hoodie, your clothes from the night before still visible underneath, your hair messy from sleep and your face bare of the makeup you’d worn the evening before.

“Can I talk to George please?” 

Alex looked between you, nodding at George. “Yeah, of course.” He disappeared into the living room without saying another word. 

You broke the silence first. “I don’t want you leaving thinking something that’s not true.” 

He gently dropped his bag to the floor, the dink from the studs hitting the hardwood floors. 

“You’re not in love with him?” 

You shook your head, “No,” 

“I don’t know what Max and I will ever be,” you continued. “I don’t know what we’ll look like a year from now, or whether our friendship will ever become anything more than that. I don’t know what the future holds for either of us.” You paused, taking a deep breath. “But right now, he’s my best friend.”

George acknowledged what you said, nodding. 

“When you left, I didn’t know how to put myself back together. I didn’t know who I was without us because I’d spent so long trying to save something that you had already decided wasn’t worth saving.”

His eyes softened, almost pleading. “I get it.” 

“I don’t want you to think I’m trying to deliberately hurt you, or make you jealous. Because that wasn’t my intentions.” 

His lips turned into a small, straightline smile. “I know you wouldn’t do that.”

“You deserve to be happy too, George.” You whispered, pulling the sleeves further down your wrists again. “You deserve to be happy.” 

“Thank you.” 

For a few seconds after that, you both just sat in silence. Maybe it was because you knew, deep down, this would be the last time. Then, George stepped closer, he hesitated for just a moment before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead. It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t an attempt to pull you back into something that had already ended. It was a goodbye. 

“I really do just want you to be happy.” He whispered into your hair. 

You closed your eyes for a moment, breathing in the last of him. “I know.” 

He finally stepped back, picking up his discarded bags and walked towards the front door. You followed him outside, the morning air cool against your bare legs as you stood on the front steps and watched him cross the driveway; he opened the door of his car and paused before getting inside. For a moment, you wondered if he would look back, and when he did, your eyes met across the driveaway. 

You watched him as he reversed down the driveway before the car disappeared onto the road beyond the trees. You remained standing there after he had long gone. 

This time, he didn’t leave you standing in the rain, tears falling in waves. He left you standing in front of your new life. You pulled Max’s hoodie tighter around yourself and looked at the blue hydrangeas growing in the front garden. 

Maybe this summer was never about forgetting the past, maybe it was about finally letting go.

“forcing a smile onto your face and pretending that having your heart broken in the middle of a room full of billionaires was something you could simply brush aside” ugh 😩

Oh FUN! A whole squad set up at the beach house

“But Alex’s expression wasn’t like the others. It was full of internal dread and panic.” uh oh

🧍🧍🧍

“You could pretend that the past couldn’t reach you if you stayed underwater long enough.” lovee this line

“You’d woken up beside it, fallen asleep to the sound of it, heard it call your name from another room, heard it laugh across dinner tables and whisper against your ear when nobody else was listening.” SHIVERS

UGH the details of the pool area…drying off and walking towards the doors…I’m right there

“He had fallen asleep exactly where he’d been sitting the night before, his back resting against the headboard and his arms folded loosely across his chest.” stoppp 🥺

“George was sitting at the dining table.” YIKES

Yikes yikes yikes

“Lando’s championship win had obviously become the favoured subject…by Lando.” LOLLL

““But–you’ve already got one?” Alex questioned.” omg hush alex

““You lost that privilege to love her, you made that decision.”” Actually, Alex, keep going, king!!

“Lando had given up on pretending he was participating in any particular conversation and was currently lying on a flamingo pool floatie in the middle of the water, his sunglasses perched low on his nose despite the fact it was pitch black outside.” Iconic, if you ask me

“And maybe that’s why you decided to take a moment away from it all.” uh oh that can’t be good

““You don’t get to be jealous! You don’t get to question my friendship with Max after you spent a year convincing me you didn’t want me.”” !!!!!!

““This is exactly what you wanted.” George spat.” Uh oh—

Oh gosh oh gosh

“Morning came with the uncomfortable weight of everything you had to drink the night before.” artistry

““You deserve to be happy too, George.” You whispered, pulling the sleeves further down your wrists again. “You deserve to be happy.”” 😭

“You watched him as he reversed down the driveway before the car disappeared onto the road beyond the trees. You remained standing there after he had long gone.” SHIVERS