I call George's phone for the third time in the past two minutes. It rings six times before going to voicemail. I bang on his front door once again.

"George, open up!" I call, hoping to wake him up, "We're meeting our mum's in twenty minutes!"

He still doesn't answer. I would get the key that he conveniently had under the mat, but it seems to have moved since the last time I saw it.

I glance around his little front door area. If I were George, -ew I never want to be George- where would I put my key?

A blue potted plant catches my eye. It's a potted plant sitting next to his door. I have never recalled George having plants. He would kill them after forgetting to feed them.

I suspiciously pick the planter up to find a key laying underneath.

I unlock George's front door and open the door. Loudly. He should've been awake and ready by now, but instead I have to invade his privacy to wake him up.

I slam his bedroom door open. "George Davidson you better get up right now."

He groans as I flip on the lights. "What are you doing here?"

"I broke in with a key, idiot." I go into his closet. "We have to be in Kensington to meet our mothers in less than twenty minutes. Why aren't you awake?"

His face is pressed inside the pillow. He doesn't respond to my question. I grab a merch hoodie and some trousers before closing his closet doors. I know he'll approve of my choice. He would've picked it himself.

"Put these on."

He lifts his head to acknowledge the blue hoodie.His gaze follows as I give him a look that could kill. I'm trying with all my might to laser his brains out with my eyes right now. He cannot make us late to brunch again.

I begin to close his door to let him change in peace. I start the coffee maker. I'm only going to make one cup to get his day started. Then I head into the bathroom to set out his cologne. He has three in his cabinet, and he spends about ten minutes trying to decide which one he's in the mood for. I don't know exactly which cologne correlates with what mood and honestly don't really want to.

I check my phone while I wait for him to get dressed.

I smile to myself at Wilbur's text. We've been getting a lot closer these past couple weeks. I wouldn't say we're best friends, but I think we're on our way there.

I have George's coffee all set to go, but he's still changing. He usually doesn't take ten minutes to get changed, so I walk over to the door.

I knock on it hesitantly. "George?"

No response. I knock again. And again.

"George if you don't respond in ten seconds then I'm opening this door, and I don't want to see your dick at ten in the morning."

I count down from ten slowly, really hoping he's not standing there with everything whipped out and ready to go.

"Three.. Two... One.." I pause once again, really hoping he'll swing the door open, "Okay, George I'm walking in. I swear, if you're still asleep-"

He is. He went back to sleep, and he leaves me no choice.

I grab a cup from the kitchen and throw water on him. He gasps as he sits all the way up.

"What the fuck, Maia." He's startled, which makes sense. "You are such an asshead."

"Damn, Asshead?" I laugh as I grab a new sweatshirt, since the blue one is now soaked, "Is that really all you got?"

"Oh I have a lot more where that came from, but I'm respectfully keeping those to myself." He huffs as he takes the clothes from me.

"Get dressed," I tell him before heading back out the door, now sure he's actually awake.

Right before I close the door, he whips his head towards me.

"Wait, did you break into my house?"

I close the door without giving a complete answer like the asshead I am.

George and I are thirteen minutes late to brunch. Our mums are already sitting with mimosas in the restaurant's outdoor seating.

"You're late." My mum raises a brow as I sit next to her.

"Ask George, not me." I give him a side eye, which he responds to with a sigh.

"Someone broke into my house and poured water on me."

"Wouldn't have had to if someone else didn't fall back asleep," I shot back at him, "Or better yet, actually been ready to go when I showed up."

"Seriously George?" Ms. Davidson gives him a look. "You have to start going to bed on time, especially if you have plans."

"I'm twenty-five years old mum, I don't need a bed time." He mumbles as he picks up a menu. "We should just go to a late lunch."

"What? So you can wake up at two then?" I say, picking up my own menu.

"I swear if you make one more remark-" he begins.

"You'll what? What are you going to do, George?" I tease him.

Both our mothers shake their heads at our banter. We are both secretly still teenagers at heart or at least act like we are.

"Is Max coming home any time soon?" Ms. Davidson asks, taking a sip of her orange drink.

"He's still in Brighton with his father, but hopefully he'll come home for Christmas," my Mum responds.

My parents got divorced a couple years ago. It was one of those divorces that didn't have a specific reason behind it. Both my parents are good people. They just weren't happy with each other.

I always thought they were soulmates if we're being honest here. I grew up with my parents cheesily dancing in the kitchen and playing cards with Jeopardy on in the background. They were best friends. They were lovers.

And then they weren't.

Slowly they became stagnant in their relationship. They didn't grow together nor did they necessarily grow apart. They were best friends, but they found that they couldn't be lovers and best friends.

With marriage, they were unhappy. I think a lot of people experience this. They fall into habits that become redundant and boring. They don't find things to live for anymore because their sole purpose for life relied on a person.

Most people just stick through it until they can't even stand each other anymore. They slowly begin to hate the person for the same reason they loved them, and my parents didn't want that to happen.

They were lovers and they were best friends, but somehow they couldn't do both. They couldn't grow as people when they were together, so they went their separate ways. I admire them for that. For taking that step before they could hate each other.

Now they're friendly, but I don't think they got that level of friendship back. They're forever going to be stuck as acquaintances.

And that kills me every time I think of it.

Maybe that's why I could never date a friend, especially a best friend. I don't want to fall out of love and then lose the friendship. It just doesn't seem worth it. I want to be friends with them always, so it doesn't seem worth it to ruin it.

"Maia?" Ms. Davidson breaks my train of thought.

"Hm?" I say as I notice there's a waitress in front of me.

"What do you want to eat?"

"Oh just pancakes." My cheeks burn from embarrassment. "And a coffee, please."

The waitress nods before going off with our orders.

"How's streaming, you two?" Mum asks to fill the quiet. It's a rotation of questions we go through during our monthly brunch. Ms. Davidson asks about my brother then they ask George and I about streaming, and then we go from there with conversation.

Our Mums thought George and I were spending too much time behind our screens- which we probably were- so they insisted on us going to brunch as the four of us. A mommy-children experience I believe they called it once.

George and I agreed, but that doesn't mean our actions weren't motivated by food.

"Good," George responds for the both of us, "I did another vlog with Tommy last week."

"Oh that's fun," Mum comments, "You still faceless, Maia?"

I nod. They know that it's true. It's not that I'm not confident in my features, although nobody really ever is, right? It's that I like the idea of being a mystery. I like people wondering about certain things. Not everything needs to be broadcast online, not that it totally is. George and his friends are pretty good at keeping their private lives private. Viewers only see what they want them to.

"It just sucks that you can't do things with them," Mum says as she takes a sip. I wonder if that's her first drink of the day or not.

"I could always hang out with them in a private setting." I shrug, not really bothered. "Just not publicly."

"Well that's a positive way to look at it." Ms. Davidson smiles. She's really a sweet lady. Sometimes I wonder exactly how George became the way he is. I'm just kidding, of course.

We continue to talk throughout brunch. The pancakes were just okay. I'm still really wanting the ones from that place in Brighton. I should just go down there for the hell of it in a week or so.