I hear George come downstairs, mad. Like, mad mad. Like a bull. He was upstairs recording before, what happened now?
He quickly grabbed his phone and went to the couch, the opposite side I was sitting on.
I quickly scooted over to him, making eye contact. "What's wrong, love?" I asked. He doesn't look at me. I started to get mad.
"George, I asked you a question, I expect an answer," I hugged, crossing my arms. "Skylar, leave me alone. I had a bad recording session, okay?" he growls, his eyes landing back on his phone.
I sighed, crawling into his lap. "What happened, love?" I whisper. He looks up at me slowly, his expression turning from angry to sad.
"Just...something happened, okay? That's all, I promise it wasn't as bad as it looks," he chuckled, but I could still see an overwhelming look in his eyes.
"What do you need for me to make you feel comfortable, love?" I asked. "Fire, you'll make fun of me forever if I tell you," he said. "But I know you. You're just like me."
"Whatever it is, I promise, I won't speak a word of it. Now what is it?" I ask, pleading.
He started rolling his hips against mine and I bit my lip. "Oh."
I'M SO SPRRY THIS IS BAD
