Chapter Ten

It had been three days since Maeby and George Michael's make out session at Gob's magic show and their eventual decision not to pursue a relationship owing to the fact that they were cousins. This however had not stopped Maeby from giving George Michael small smiles over dinner and discreet winks when no one was watching. He often looked away nervously when this happened, not knowing how to respond. Had they not agreed not to be together? In Maeby's mind there was nothing dangerous about the occasional look, it made her feel special and powerful every time she flirted with George Michael; she only whished he would respond rather than just pretending that there was no tension between them. She found herself unable to sleep, thinking of the boy below her. She found herself constantly wanting to touch him, imagining the two of them in erotic situations, wishing for them to be together both emotionally and physically. Normally her stressful job as a movie producer would keep her distracted and so too busy for her to have the luxury of pondering her constrained and tension filled relationship with her cousin, but she had not been given any new movie scripts for a while, and she had been told that it would probably be like this for a few weeks while more experienced producers dealt with the release of the summer romcom films. She had briefly considered trying to resurrect that film about British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli (figuring it would play well with the Jewish demo) but she couldn't bring herself to do this after she remembered how she had invented a Benjamin as a fake date so as to fool her uncle Gob, only to then pretend to masturbate to him (Benjamin, not her uncle Gob) so as to make George Michael jealous. And so, bored with nothing to do she fantasised and imagined, desperate to hold George Michael, even if she knew it could neve be. So she gave him winks and smiles, flirtatious looks and allowed her hand to linger on his shoulder for just a little longer then need be. It was all just innocent fun under the Californian sun as far as she was concerned.

It was late in the Bluth-Funke household. Maeby made her way to her bedroom for the night feeling tired and exhausted. When she entered the room she discovered that George Michael was already there, dressed in his pyjamas. She gave him a sly smile which he returned with his trademark nervous one, glancing down at his bare feet once he gave it. She went into the bathroom, brushed her teeth and used the privacy to change into her pyjamas. When she entered, she noticed that the sheets had been taken off from her bed.

"Where the hell are my sheets?" she demanded.

"I don't know," replied George Michael.

"Ah, Maeby. About your sheets." In stepped Tobias looking guilty. "Well, let me start from the beginning, you see, I'm planning on directing a new production of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, so I had to borrow your sheets so as to compare backgrounds outside. Unfortunately, I may have left them in the garden while it was raining and so I'm afraid that they may be just a little bit soaking wet." Maeby glared at her father. "Sorry," he added.

"Great!" she said angrily. "For heavens sake dad, you never respect me or ever care about me! You never respect me or listen to me or even pay attention to me! It was just like this in Boston, and it's the same now!"

Tobias was silent for a few moments. "Maeby, as the world's first clinical analrapist I think that all this pent-up anger might be more than just about me taking your sheets, don't you?"

Maeby breathed hard. She felt angry. Angry not just about the sheets but about how she was never cared for properly by her absent parents. Her mother had not be seen for four days, her father barley acknowledged her existence. She felt angry and furious. She looked at Tobias. "Yeah. Yeah I guess you're right."

"And I think I know what this really is about."

"Yeah. I think you do."

"You clearly are upset that I didn't ask you to be in my production of Romeo and Juliet."

Maeby stared in disbelief at her father. "You just don't get it do you?"

"No I do get," he said, putting his hands up, "and that is why if you really want it, I will give you the chance to play Juliet, but only if you really want it."

"No!" she yelled, angry and furious at her father.

"Ok, ok. I was kind of hoping this would be a family thing you know. After all, I'm going to try and get Buster to play Richard III, his hook makes him perfect for the part."

It was at this moment that George Michael found himself unable not to interrupt the conversation. "I don't think Richard III had a hook, and I don't think he's actually in Romeo and Juliet."

Tobias gave his nephew in law a small smile. "Oh George Michael, once you gain my acting talent you'll one day see that when it comes to Shakespeare, its all just one giant mosaic of intellectual brilliance. I'm even going to see if I can persuade Lucile to play Lady Macbeth." Spoiler alert, she would refuse. "I really think she would nail the whole getting her husband King Richard to kill Romeo thing really well. Of course, it means Buster would have to pretend to be married to his mother and be totally subordinate to her, but I think with my coaching he should be able to pull it off." Tobias chuckled to himself in a blissful happiness as he left the room.

"Can you believe that!" Maeby exclaimed angrily, pointing accusingly at the door her father had just left through. "He is just totally oblivious to any of my feelings."

"Yeah," replied George Michael. He touched her arm lightly in an effort to console her. "I sometimes feel like that with my dad to."

Maeby gave him a smile. "At least your dad is trying," and the comment made George Michael smile back. "But where am I going to sleep tonight?"

"You could always sleep in my bed. I made the sheets this morning so their clean." There was a pause and then, "but I could always sleep downstairs on the sofa so its fine, its not like I'm trying to trick you into sleeping with me because I would never do that or-"

"That's a very generous offer George Michael." Those words shut George Michael up, and he smiled back at his cousin. "But I can't force you to sleep on the couch, that would be wrong of me to do."

"I'll be fine with that you know. My internal body clock allows me to sleep by ten o'clock wherever I am so…"

"You know, if you feel comfortable, and only if you feel comfortable, we could sleep in your bed together."

Another silence fell over the two. "But, what about the rules we came up with."

Maeby gave him a reassuring smile. "It's not like there's anything sexual about us sleeping in the same bed. Besides, it's just for one night." She gave him another smile. Come on George Michael, its ok."

"Well, I mean, I don't see why not." He looked embarrassed and terrified. At the same time, in his eyes Maeby could detect a sense of excitement that she had seen when she had kissed him at the kitchen four days ago.

"Ok then," she said, still smiling.

"Well, I'm just going to brush my teeth and then, well you know." George Michael walked into the adjoining bathroom nervously. Maeby watched as he walked past her, her eyes examining every part of his body.

When George Michael exited the bathroom, Maeby felt her heart race with excitement. His hair was all ruffled up, not stylishly spiked like it usually was. She to had her hair long and frizzy, and both teenagers felt somewhat childish dressed in their pyjamas. She felt giddy, like a schoolgirl flirting with a boy in the playground, and she could not feel happy as George Michael pulled up the neatly placed duvet for the two of them to get into. Then he walked over to the light and switched it off, plunging the room into a sudden darkness that exhilarated Maeby. As the dim shadow of George Michael walked over to her she felt every part of her body, including the parts below her waist, tingle with excitement. Her body was alive in the dark.

"Do you want to go in first?" he asked, a nervousness in his voice.

"Sure," she replied, and she slipped into his bed. He followed. Maeby took a deep breath and turned around so she was facing George Michael who was facing her. It was dark and only a faint outline of could be seen by the other. They were so close they could feel the slow breath of the other on their face. It was so quiet they could hear the intake of breaths from each other. They both had their eyes wide open, staring at each other. Maeby felt her mouth salivate, opened just a bit but unable to close. She wanted to stretch out and touch him. She did. Only his hair, loose and floppy she pushed it out of his eyes. It felt sexual, the situation. After all, they were in bed together. But it wasn't like back at the school when they had touched each other like that for the first time. Maeby wanted him to touch her sure, caress her neck and fondle her all over. She wanted him to tear of the sheets of the bed and rip of her pyjamas so that her whole excited body was exposed to him. She wanted him to have her in the night and feel him on her in a way that she had not felt before. But it didn't seem right if he had done so. Like it would have soiled this precious moment between them if they did have sex. Like a bad joke at a funeral or a heckler at a great speech. She allowed herself to feel turned on but contented herself to not doing anything about it.

"Maeby, are you comfortable." The question was not asked to break the silence but asked out of genuine concern. The bed was small and they were pushed together.

"Well, my back is kind of squashed here," she whispered truthfully.

"You can come closer if you like." The words were an invitation. Maeby moved herself closer to him, and the bodies touched entirely. Every part against hers, the heat between the two rising to dangerous proportions. She felt his bare feet curl around hers, but they were cold and the cold made it feel so much better. Her forehead was almost touching his, she could just about feel a few strands of his hair on hers. Her breasts were thrust against his chest, both moving in and out as the two breathed in the darkness of the room. Her knee on his groin. They were so close, closer in a way then they had been underneath that stupid coffin when she had felt his erection against her. Their noses were touching now. She gave a small girlish laugh, and he responded with a quiet chuckle. The two fell asleep that night each having one hand held in the other. They just lay their for a while, eyes open, looking at each other. Maeby knew she was in love, as much as it killed her to admit it. But the feeling between them was of a fundamental force that she could only assume was love, deep love and care. She felt safe in his bed next to him. She felt happy and she did not feel alone. Her mind was calmed and she drifted of, the two bodies intertwined completely. That night she had no dreams, she just slept on into the late hours of the morning.