Please enjoy the photo of George in the media section; and use it as a visual for his outfit in this chapter!

•••

"George, Andrew tried calling while you were at work. You should call him back," Steph informs him, a few days later. "He wanted to talk to you about going out, or something."

"Thanks." George slips off his navy-blue trench coat; he takes the phone from Steph's hand, before dialling the number of his lifelong best friend. While he's waiting for Andrew to answer, he uses his free hand to loosen the grey tie that sits around his neck. Having done this, he then unbuttons the top button of his crisp, white shirt to give his skin some air after being in a stuffy office all day.

"Hello?" Andrew's well-spoken accent greets.

"Hey mate! You alright?" He doesn't need to introduce himself, because he already knows Andrew will recognise his cheeky tone.

"Yog!" Andrew's voice perks up, at the sound of his buddy. "How you doing?"

"Not bad mate, not bad. Yourself?"

"Yeah, me too." Andrew pauses a moment, to find the words to say. "Now listen — me and some of the lads were wanting to go out tonight to the clubs. You up for it? Oh—you haven't got work tomorrow, have you?"

"Day off tomorrow," George responds, his pearlescent smile showing in relief of this fact. "Of course I'm up for it. What time?"

"Was thinking about eight o'clock. That isn't too late for you is it, Mr Settled-Down?" he jibes playfully.

"What; so just because I have a girlfriend — that means I stopped being adventurous?" George scoffs in dismissal of such a crazy idea. "Just because I stopped being so un-selective, doesn't mean I can't live life on the edge, you know."

"I know; I'm just messing with you. Surely you know that by now?" A laugh passes through the phone line. "Come on, mate. It's gonna be amazing. We've not gone on a piss-up in forever."

"It's called adult life, unfortunately, Andrew. Not everyone has all the free time in the world. Not everyone can just coast through life on the dole."

"Yeah well, it works for now." Andrew laughs once more. "Anyway, I'll see you later on then, mate."

"Looking forward to it," George replies. "Bye for now."

"Later." With no more words said between the pair, Andrew hangs up the phone; causing the unmistakable beep in George's ear.

"You're going out tonight?" Stephanie asks him, finally deeming it appropriate to intervene with her own speech.

"Yeah. Andrew and a few of the lads. Not gone out in forever." Admittedly, George is extremely excited about this. Perhaps a night out is needed, in order to distract him from the hardships he's facing mentally, as of late. Maybe all that's been needed, is some time with friends.

"Well, have a good time. You deserve it." She gives him a genuine, closed-mouth smile to support her statement. "Just don't stay out too late. I worry about you still."

"I'll be fine. I promise." George runs the fingers of one hand briefly through her dark hair. "You can have a nice night in; relax a bit. And then tomorrow you can nurse my hangover for me, because the Lord knows I'll regret everything come morning time."

The pair share light laughter; before George heads upstairs to go for a shower, and to get ready for his big night on the town.

•••

"Yes, mate!" Andrew's enthusiastic welcome is both charming, and amusing. He brings George in for a 'manly' hug; they pat one another's backs before withdrawing from one another. "Almost forgot what you looked like."

"How you doing George?" one of the lads, Leon, asks politely to make small talk. "You alright?"

"Yeah — not bad, not bad. Just nice to be somewhere that isn't work or home." His palm rubs against his forehead; a light dowsing of sweat has accumulated from the heating being switched on, on his tube commute. "Anyway, should we go inside? I'm dying for a drink."

The group join the queue to enter the club; each one of them has their IDs handy, because although they could all easily pass as at least their actual ages — the security are very strict with letting people in. None of them fancy taking their chances when they've longed for this good time for a while. Soon, they arrive at the front of the line. A bulky man, wearing all black, and holding a walkie-talkie glances at the men; the expression he's making appears to say — 'You know how this works; show me your IDs'. Each one of them presents their driving licenses; passports or any other valid forms of identification, one-by-one being allowed in to the venue. The music is upbeat and extremely loud once the group have reformed inside. The strong bass of the song that's playing booms through the ground; rattling all the tables, chairs and the bar. The feeling of being here is exhilarating to George — it's been the longest time since he did this. It brings back the days before he met Stephanie; when he and Andrew were both 'on the dole', and went out every Friday night after they finished college.

"Oh shit — I love this song!" one of the other men, Brett, calls out once the music changes. "Fucking brilliant tune, this one."

"Gotta agree to that," Andrew chimes in, joining his friend on the dance floor; he looks back to George briefly. "You coming Yog?"

"Yeah ... " George has become distracted; because there is a young lady with her eyes firmly fixed on him. Of course, he feels absolutely no attraction for her — however, the same evidently can't be said, for her to him. She gives a seductive smile, waving one hand; then, she starts swaying her hips in time with the music in an attempt to appease the dashing young man she's spotted. Out of politeness, George waves back, but then he heads towards his friends to dance with them.

Andrew catches this very short interaction; deciding it's suitable to poke fun at it. "You've got a girlfriend mate. You shouldn't be trying to pick another one up."

"Shut up," George responds snappily, although with full intent of being playful. With a couple of songs' worth of dancing, he leans in to Andrew's ear, so he can hear George better as he speaks. "I'm gasping for a drink. You want one?"

"Well if you're offering," Andrew grins. "I'll have whatever you have. You know me — not fussy."

"Yeah — sort of how you are with girls and sex." Giving Andrew no time to react to his jibe, he runs off laughing at his own level of wit. He eventually reaches the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools. Like the typical male characters in the movies, he bashes his hand against the counter to attract attention.

The barmaid notices him waiting; she finishes polishing a glass, and pops it on the shelf behind her before approaching him. "What can I get you?"

"I'm not fussy. Two of whatever you recommend, sweet." He gives her a sincere smile; one that suggests he isn't going to be like the many, many other males who will try to hit on her tonight.

"Of course." She gets to work, setting two glasses against the bar; before pouring a mix of alcoholic and non-alcoholic liquids into them, to create a concoction. George doesn't pay much attention — all he cares about, is getting drunk. Once she's completed the drinks, she slides them forward. "There you go, sir. Enjoy your evening."

"Cheers, love. I'll more-than-likely be back for more before the night is over." He lifts the glasses in his hands; he's about to leave the bar, when he bumps into somebody. Luckily, his quick reaction time means his drinks are saved from spilling; he looks up to see the girl who was watching him earlier. "Sorry," he apologises quickly, not wanting to have a prolonged conversation with her.

"You wanna dance?" she asks, taking one of the drinks from his hand before he can realise what she's done. She takes a drawn-out sip through the straw; a cringe-worthy display follows — in which she rolls her eyes upwards, and runs her tongue over her upper lip. "I like my drinks how I like my men. And that was tall, and gorgeous."

"I mean, that was for my friend ... " George doesn't really see the point in arguing with the stranger, so he rotates his body to return to the bar to buy another one. However, the girl tugs at the shoulder of his grey, chunky-knit sweatshirt. He heaves a sigh of frustration at her. "What do you want, love?"

"Well, that's a very big question," she remarks flirtatiously. "But if you're offering, I'd want you in a heartbeat."

George furrows his brows, wanting to dismiss her in the nicest way possible. "Sorry ... I'm already in a relationship. But I'm flattered. Truly." He tries to shuffle away from her again. "Now if you'll excuse me. Have a good evening." He manages to escape from her (albeit only just), and heads back to the bar.

The same barmaid as before can't help but chuckle. "That was quick."

"Some chick stole one of the drinks." He slams his free hand to his forehead. "So same again, please."

"No problem." Her laughter subsiding, the barmaid gets to work with making the same beverage as before.

Once she's done, George hands her a bank note carelessly. "Keep the change. You're good." He salutes, before lifting up the glasses once more. "Cheers." This time, he makes a run for the dance floor; in order to avoid the girl from before. He manages to make it successfully this time; and he hands Andrew his drink.

"Took your time, mate?" The inflection suggests he wishes for George to elaborate on the reason he was so delayed.

"Fucking lass tried to flirt with me, didn't she?" George explains, holding onto the straw from his drink to prevent it from falling onto his face; as he downs a large amount of his drink in one swallow. His face contorts slightly at the intense flavour that has just tingled at his tastebuds. "I told her I'm in a relationship, so she better back off now."

"I wouldn't bet on it." Andrew points behind George; as a reflex, the latter turns his head to see the young woman approaching him yet again. "She's persistent, I'll give her that."

"It's starting to piss me off, Andy. I've already told her no." George's brows furrow in mild anger, but he doesn't wish to cause a scene in the now-overflowing club. With an exhalation of exhaustion, he flips his head back around to Andrew, waiting for the annoying voice to purr at him again.

"Hey."

Like clockwork, George rolls his eyes upwards; causing Andrew to laugh at how predictable this female is, despite having only known her ten minutes. George moves his body around to face the girl, forcing the most convincing smile he can possibly muster. "Hello again."

"If it makes you feel any better — you're the only guy I've got my eye on in here tonight." She presses her hand to his chest — which is partially-exposed, due to the low-cut nature of his sweatshirt. "The name's Jules. And boy, it's a pleasure to meet you."

George very-quickly swipes her hand away from his body, doing so in a manner which is non-threatening so that she can't use it against him. "Great to meet you Jules. But like I said before, I'm in a relationship already. So you can take a look at the other guys in here." Deciding to mess with Andrew, he pulls his friend over to join the conversation. "In fact, what about this guy? This is my best mate, Andrew. He's always down for meeting new people."

"George!" Andrew hisses, clearly wanting no part of this newfound attention.

"So your name's George, huh?" Jules sits her tongue in the corner of her mouth, as a poor attempt at looking seductive. "That's a sexy name."

"So, Andrew," George changes the subject abruptly. "Don't stay awake too late with this lovely bombshell tonight!" He grins, resting his hands momentarily on Andrew's shoulders; then, he starts to move away from the couple, as if he's Cupid stepping back to let love bloom.

"No—Yog!—" Andrew calls to him, perhaps already knowing he isn't planning to return any time soon.

"No offence babes, but I'm not interested in you. I'm interested in your mate," Jules tells him.

"No offence taken." Andrew raises his arms in surrender. "The feeling is entirely mutual."

"Good. On that note ... " Jules slips past Andrew, to go after George. She weaves in and out of the large hoards of people, who are enjoying the evening; this is more than can be said for George, who just wants to be rid of the female courting him. Andrew, deciding he should help his lifelong pal, tries to follow Jules as she dips and dives; under and around the various shapes being thrown and the drinks being sipped. Eventually, Jules catches up to the Greek-English man. "So, where were we?"

"You again?" George frowns, agitation making no attempt to hide itself by now. "Do you not know how to take 'no' for an answer, love?"

"I think, deep down, you want to say yes." She coils her slinky arms around his neck; she cocks her leg up, so that it leans against the side of his body, to pull him in closer.

George tries with everything in him, to detach her from him; but she is a lot stronger than she seems at first glance. The closer her face moves to his, the more desperate he becomes to get her off of him. If she kisses him, and it's out of his control — Stephanie would go mad. With how insecure she already is, she would perhaps blame George even with his obvious reluctance towards the event that is currently unfolding. His mind ticks relentlessly over ways to leave this situation, through his unsuccessful quest to push her away; but the anger of being taken advantage of — despite his constant reminders to her, that he's not single — eventually takes over any form of logic he may have had left.

"For fuck sake, woman! Take the hint!" he suddenly shouts. He doesn't notice everyone looking at him as he blurts, "I'm fucking gay!"

He finally finds the strength to forcefully push her off of him; she tumbles to the floor clumsily, her high heels snapping from the impact. As soon as he looks down at her, his eyes widen; as the realisation of what he's just divulged settles in, causing a painfully unsettling feeling deep in his stomach. His eyes frantically dart upwards, to see the one person he really didn't want to see, stood in front of him: Andrew.

"Fucking hell, Yog! Think you might have some explaining to do tonight!"

•••

Chapter six! Is it getting interesting now? Hope you enjoyed it! xx