How Can You Look at Me and Say That You Don't Love Me?

Bill’s POV

The week was finally over! I missed the way the girls were before “that time of the month”. Never in my life had I experienced such horror! Lisa had started threatening everyone with knives! Not spoons, but fucking knives! Catfights had become a regular hourly thing. I couldn’t even bring myself around Tashy after she pulled my hair and spat at me. She was so scary!
Everyone, but the girls, was sitting in the living area. Tom and Mike were talking on the couch, I was at the table, John and Gustav were playing cards, and Georg was probing through the fridge.
Lisa came tearing into the room. “Georgie!” she screamed.
Georg looked up. Lisa had leeched herself to him and hooked her legs around his hips.
“I’m so sorry! I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you this week!” she said.
Georg patted her back a bit, looking scared. “It’s okay…” he said slowly.
Lisa jumped down and stuck out her hand. “Frenemies again?” she said.
“Of course.” He laughed, taking her hand. “But, only if you go back to spoons.”
“Deal!” she laughed.
Tashy came in and flopped down next to me and pecked me lightly on the cheek. Well, this was new.
“What was that for?” I asked.
“For everything I’ve done this week.” She smiled. “Oh, and Gusti, I’m sorry for the bathroom incident.” She added.
“It’s okay…” he said, not paying much attention to her. “Aw fuck! You win again J-Dog.” John laughed and set up a new game.
Lizzie came in and threw herself onto Tom’s lap.
“Back to your form of normal?” he mused.
“Yup.” She laughed. Tom grinned and wrapped his arms around her. Mike got up and went to join John and Gustav’s card game.
“Seems like we’ve got yet another show, and then we’re off to Finland.” I said.
“Oh! Finland! YAY!” Lisa squealed. “I’ve always wanted to go there!”
We all laughed at her. She was a lot better off with out a butter knife in her hand.

-Later-
Lisa’s POV

I was having so much fun poking fun at Georg. He found it amusing as well. I teased him about straightening his hair and about how much I wanted to curl it. I threatened him tirelessly with a curling iron. He’d usually reply by taking it away and hiding it.
I would pout for hours until he’d give it back.
Georg had passed out, sitting up on the couch with a book in his lap. I went to Bill.
“How deep a sleeper is Georg?” I asked.
“He’s a pretty heavy sleeper, why?” he said.
“I’m curling his hair in his sleep.” I grinned.
Oh! Oh! Oh! Can I help?” he asked.
“Duh!” I said and we grabbed my curling iron and quietly sat down next to Georg’s sleeping self. I plugged in the iron and Bill eagerly clutched a can of extra strong hold hairspray.
Once the iron was hot enough, I took chunk of Georg’s straightened hair and curled it.
“Bill, spray it!” I whispered. Bill sprayed the iron and I let it down. A perfect ringlet twisted down. We repeated the process until it was all curled. Tom walked in and had to restrain himself from laughing. I pulled out my camera and took several pictures of the sleeping Georg and his new hair. Then I shooed Bill out of his seat and grabbed the book out of Georg’s lap. I shushed Bill and Tom both as I raised the book high above my head and slammed it down, hard on his lap.
Georg snapped awake. “What the fucking hell!” he shouted, his new curls bouncing.
“I just wanted to know what would happen if I slammed your book on your lap.” I said innocently.
“Well, silly girl, you now know that it wakes me up and pisses me off.” He grumbled.
Gustav and John walked in to see what had caused all the commotion.
“Oh mein Gott!” Gustav said, doubling over. “You look like Shirley Temple!”
“WHAT?!” Georg shouted, tearing up out of his seat and running to the bathroom. We heard him scream and Lizzie laugh. He ran back into the room.
“Lisa why’d you torture my hair?” he asked.
“I thought you look cute.” I said, kicking my feet.
“Well, you know what?” he said. “I think you’re cute.” His face went tomato red and he bolted down the hall and into the back room.
I felt by cheeks burn with embarrassment. Bill nudged me.
“Me thinks Georgie likes yew.” He giggled.
“Ya think?” I said in a duh tone.
Georg stayed in the room for hours on end. I couldn’t believe what he had just said. He thinks that I am cute? Me? The girl who ragged on him and constantly threatened his life with spoons? How could I tell him how much I liked him back?