Signed /Dream Team/

5

As strange as it sounds, I'm excited. I know I shouldn't be but deep down something inside me feels warm and safe from the idea of having company for a little while. As someone who grew up without a family or even friends, having something close to that was valuable.

And yes, it really does sound strange, because I just compared 3 strangers that probably want to get rid of me to having friends and family. Desperation and loneliness are serious things I guess.

I get up to unpack, realizing that I'm taking things too seriously and even out of context in a way. I'm alone in the living room. Clay is locked alone in a room again, while the other two are in the second room, discussing something in private. I can't hear them so that makes me think they're whispering. Eh, who knows, maybe they're talking shit about me.

Bag after bag I unpack and try to make the place feel like home. Time flies and I'm deep in my thoughts and fantasies, thinking about my future and then realizing that I don't even have today's day planned. I was thinking about getting a job in the bar I spotted nearby when my thoughts get cut short by the sound of the door opening. Looks like they finally finished.

"Sorry," George apologizes seeing that I jumped a little from the sound, "can we help?"

I shake my head then realize that it's kinda rude and decide to answer verbally.

"No, thank you."

I proceed to continue my tasks but another voice interrupts me.

"How old are you?"

I look up and see that it's Nick speaking. He sits on the couch, directing his attention to me while George leans on the said couch, doing the same thing.

"Uhm. I'm 22," raising a brow I answer. It's weird that he decided to ask my age before even asking my name.

And guess I spoke too soon. I don't even get to ask them their ages when Nick speaks once again.

"What's your name?"

I cannot express how uncomfortable the conversation feels It doesn't even feel like a conversation, Nick's just shooting questions at me.

"Anastasia," I speak, my voice lacking confidence cause I feel like I'm being interrogated.

"Wow, that's a pretty name," George's compliment definitely makes me flustered.

But I don't get to react that much as Nick's answer catches me off-guard.

"Can I call you Nasty?"

I blink.

"Can I call you Dick?"

The words just slip out of my mouth. I didn't mean to be rude but seeing that George laughs comforts me a little bit. And I honestly don't know whether I should laugh or be offended. I don't know Nick, it could've both been a joke or an insult, or even it could've been just.. him. And as far as I see (judging by the apple juice-covered, incorrectly signed papers, and the aggressive questioning tone he's got going on) he definitely seems like the type of guy who would say something like that with no intentions at all.

And that's why I don't regret calling him Dick. If what he said was an offense, he should be offended too.

"Together we can be Nasty Dick."

So it's just him, huh.

I see George bumping Nick's shoulder with his elbow while trying to contain his laughter. I laugh too, feeling as if we finally reached the icebreaker and continue with more confidence.

"Well, not Nasty, but people have called me Nastia before," I speak, "but I usually get Ana, so it's up to you."

"Anastasia suits you, it's a beautiful name. Goes with your face too," George smiles.

Now when I tell you I almost pass out.

"I'm George by the way, this is Nick as you already know, and the other one's Clay," I don't pay attention to his words firstly because I already knew, and secondly because he just called my face beautiful and I'm trying my best not to hyperventilate. It's not like I don't have any experience with men, but most of it I gained during my highschool years. I'm 22 now, it's been a while. And I'm also a failure in every way possible and don't know how to interact with attractive people. Or just people at all.

"My mom named me," I blurt out, "she's a Russian hooker."

And there I go. Oversharing again.

They laugh, thinking that it was a joke. I couldn't fake laugh though, which made them go dead silent immediately.

Nick furrows his brows, "Wait, really?"

Remember when I used the word icebreaker? Well, it suddenly feels like Antarctica in here.

"Yeah, I was an accident," I laugh even though my words were not something to laugh about, but they stay completely silent. The silence makes me uncomfortable and I don't want to bear it any longer, so I change the topic, "how old are you guys?"

They're still recovering from the information for a few seconds before Nick takes the lead.

"I'm twenty, George is like- I don't even know anymore, like in his forties-"

"-I'm twenty-five."

Nick doesn't seem to care. He continues.

"And Clay is like.. how old is Clay?" He looks at George who looks done at this point but still answers.

"Clay is twenty-two," he nods at me, ignoring Nick's rambles in the background.

I process the information and can't help but make a remark.

"You look young," I compliment George, "like younger than your friends."

"I'm a vampire."

"His balls haven't dropped."

They both speak at the same time, looking at each other after noticing the diversity of their remarks and starting to swear at each other. Well, mainly it's George who's swearing, Nick is just laughing at his own joke. And I'm holding back a laugh too, mainly because I value George's perception of me more than his friend's.

The argument continues for a little more. Then we all jump a little when the door opens. Not from fear, just from awareness. Clay's here, and he's holding a backpack.

"Where are you going?" George asks.

"To hell," Clay's answer is dry.

"You have nowhere to go," George sighs, trying to stop him.

"I have nowhere to stay."

I'm about to say that he's wrong, but George stops me. And Clay wastes no more time. He leaves, and nobody seems to care.