Peter and the Shame of the Embrace

Chapter 3 - Again

George Darling reclined on the couch in his sitting room. It was quite a sizeable couch, it could hold probably four of his friends with comfortable space between them all. Stretched out like this, though, George took up most of the sofa. He was dozing. The rain from the evening prior seemed to have washed out the clouds, at least for now, and George was content in the sunny room. He liked summer. No responsibilities, no work, no school, just –

Tap tap. The knocking on the door wasn't loud, but it still startled George, who was starting to drift off.

"Ah, uh, huh?" He was much groggier than he had thought. Perhaps if he let the maid know he was trying to nap, she would leave him alone. He had been having quite a pleasant dream.

"George? It's me." George shot up as though he had been struck by lightning, humiliated by his grunting. He didn't want Molly to think him rude. George wiped his face, which was more oily than expected. If Molly had let him know she would stop by in advance, he would have washed his face. But that was Molly Aster for you, never predictable. "May I come in?" Her sweet voice was muffled by the door.

"Yep. I mean, yes, of course, come in." George swallowed and tried flattening his hair, which he was sure was sticking up at odd angles. The door creaked slightly as Molly Aster entered the Darling's sitting room. In stark contrast to George, who felt disheveled and ill prepared, Molly was absolutely radiant. Her long tresses were piled high atop her head. She wore a blouse tucked into a royal blue ensemble, a fashionable color, as of late. Every time George had seen Molly over the past few months, he felt as though she increasingly resembled her mother, who herself was known in London for her elegance. George was sure his hair was sticking up in the back, but didn't know if it was worse to try and fix it in front of his guest, or to let it be. She giggled, a high pitch sound as clear as a bell.

"Napping were we? Well, I'm sorry to have disturbed you." George blinked, then swallowed. He was so slow this morning. How was she so awake? George blinked again. He should really stop staring at her, but where was he to look? Weren't you supposed to look at pretty girls when they turned up in your sitting room?

"Yuh – uh, you're fine. Sorry I was ..." George's brain really didn't feel like working today, apparently. George typically acted like this around Molly, though, driven less by etiquette and more by hormones. He took a deep breath. She was still smiling at him. "Let's start over." Perhaps if George admitted his awkwardness, he would look a little less socially inept. "Hello Molly, how are you this morning?" Molly was still laughing, and George could only hope that she was laughing with him, not at him.

"I am very well, Mr. Darling, and how are you?" Mr. Darling. Was that how Molly saw him now? As an adult? As his father? George wasn't sure he liked that very much.

"I'm... good. Well – I mean well. I am well." Stellar introduction. "How can I help you? Have a seat." Molly sat across from George on a large plush armchair decked out in the sitting room's red and gold theme. She took up perhaps a third of the vast chair. George, with arms and legs still sprawled all over his sofa, felt very disheveled by comparison.

"George," Molly looked very earnest all of the sudden. "There's something I need to ask of you."

"Anything." This response sent waves of... something... through both of them.

"My father told me just this morning. We're... we're going to take Peter home. Back to London, that is."

"Peter... Black?" Didn't Peter Black live down the road from both of them?

"No! Peter Pan!" Who? George blinked. The name was so familiar, but George couldn't quite think of the face. And why would he need to be taken to London? Shouldn't his parents be able to? These questions swirled in George's still foggy mind, but he couldn't quite vocalize them. Molly sighed, clearly getting annoyed by his early morning slowness.

"Ginger? Island? Stonehenge? Rundoon?"

"Oh!" George remembered now, the last of his sleepiness leaving his mind. Sheepish now, George was the one to tell Peter his own last name when they were all in Rundoon. It felt so long ago now...

"Okay. Am I to go with you then?" George was as curious as anyone else to know why the famous flying boy needed to be returned to London, but judging from experience, Molly wouldn't answer a direct question. In fact, she likely didn't know the answer herself. Molly nodded.

"Yes. Father says that it might be better for Peter if there are people his own age taking him home. Or on the ship, at least. Fortunately for you, Father has divined you and Peter to be close enough friends." They both chuckled at that. 'Friends' isn't a word anyone would use to describe George's and Peter's relationship. Associates would be a better word. Acquaintances. Mutuals.

"So?" Molly brought her emerald eyes to meet George's. "Will you join us, again?"

Molly's skin seemed flawless in the morning glow of George's sitting room. Her eyes were shining with even more intensity than usual. Not a hair was out of place on her head, nor a line on her face. In that moment, George knew that even though they were talking about another boy, Molly was only thinking about him. What George would say, what he would do. To George, it was the most brilliant feeling in the world.

How was he supposed to say no?