Signed /Dream Team/

9

We got to see the sunrise while we were walking. It wasn't even beautiful.

It was so early that nothing was open yet. I was craving coffee but no coffee shops were working at this time.

"I guess we're sitting here," George starts walking towards a small park that is completely empty. Only us, the naked trees, and some dusty wooden benches.

"I guess we are," I sigh and pick the cleanest looking bench, which still has an inch of dust sitting on it.

During our walk here, we talked a bit. About the weather and how disgusting it was, the birds that started chirping all of a sudden and how annoying they were, the sunrise and how unimpressive it looked, and other random stuff. However, there was something more important bugging me throughout those conversations.

"Was it too far?" My question must have been sudden and unexpected for George. He looked up at my face and blinked, not answering it yet and waiting for clarification, "I didn't want to hurt him, I was just mad that he called me a bitch and.. I don't know, that happened."

George shifts in his seat, thinks a bit and speaks.

"I mean... he had it coming. He deserved it," he shrugs but I hear the uncertainty in his voice. And when I hear the rest of his sentence, the uncertainty becomes even more vibrant, "but yeah, it was kinda brutal."

Even though George laughs, it doesn't help the bubbling guilt ready to overflow inside me. Even he thinks it was too much.

"I was just so frustrated. Like, imagine trying your best to be as nice as you can to someone and they keep being an ass to you in return every time."

He nods as I speak, then sighs. I look at the fog his breath creates and move my gaze away. I feel conflicted.

"As I said, he deserved it. You shouldn't feel guilty," he speaks again, "it's just.. I mean if you slapped him or called him a cunt in return I'm sure he'd take that way better. And maybe that would be more fair."

I totally understand what he's saying. And yes, what I did was as brutal as it could get. I rubbed salt on his wounds when I could just create another wound that would heal eventually without leaving marks.

"Maybe I'm just saying that because he's my friend and I would spare him. He had no right to say that to a girl he just met that was going above and beyond to be nice to him."

Probably he sees that I'm feeling awful about the situation and is just trying to rationalize my actions.

And the weird thing about this is that with the tremendous amount of guilt I feel, I think I don't feel even an ounce of regret. I just regret that I let things get to this point. I know I did something bad, but I'd probably do it again if he tried to run his mouth again.

"I'll apologize if he does it first," I sound like a child. I don't care.

George smiles widely and it melts my heart. He has the cutest smile I've ever seen.

"I don't think he feels sorry, but I'll get him to apologize," he laughs softly.

"Well, I don't feel sorry as well. I just feel guilty and kinda bad for him."

And I make no sense. I can't explain what I'm feeling.

"That sounds like you do feel sorry," he raises a brow with a playful smile and lifts his shoulders slightly.

"No, I don't," I frown, crossing my arms. If I didn't sound like a child before, I'm sure now I do, "I feel good cause I stood up for myself."

"You did not just stand up for yourself, you dissed the poor guy's whole life if we're being honest," he laughs again. His laugh does make me feel better and it's also extremely contagious, "but you do you, I guess."

"Whatever," I start laughing for no reason at all.

"You have the cutest laugh."

I was a breath away from choking on my laugh after his words. I feel my face burning immediately, I'm not laughing anymore and all I can focus on is his knowing smile. It's almost like he said that on purpose to watch me suffer.

"I caught it from you," again, I was trying to say that his laugh is contagious but now he thinks I called his laugh cute.

I'm not even gonna bother to explain myself, I would much rather have him think that I'm extremely flirty than know that I'm an awkward idiot who cannot speak properly.

I don't get the chance to catch George's reaction though, cause he suddenly tilts his head and looks behind me with furrowed brows. I turn around and see two people walking toward us. I can already tell who they are, but I'm wondering how they found us.

"Oh shit, was I sharing my location again?" George pulls out his phone. It's kinda creepy that they used his location to track us.

"Welp," I chuckle, taking my phone out to pretend like I'm not interested in what's happening.

Eventually, they approach us. Well, to clarify things, Clay stands a few feet away and doesn't pay attention to us. Nick's the one who comes closer.

"Oh, you're here!" He sounds genuine.

"Yeah, why are you here?" George raises a brow.

"We were walking and I saw your jacket," Nick explains, "and I think you're the only person in America wearing that hideous jacket."

I hide a smile, keeping my eyes glued to my phone.

"You're not funny," George's voice is emotionless.

I was trying my best to stay indifferent about what was happening, but Nick immediately pulls me into the conversation.

"Hey, Clay wants to apologize," I look up after his words, "is it okay if we leave you two alone for a few minutes?"

I think this is how murder documentaries begin. And the chances that Clay convinced Nick to get rid of me are high.

"Can't he do it while you're here?" I narrow my eyes.

"I don't know, he's shy. But we'll be here watching you, don't worry."

I figured that I don't have too much to lose. In the worst-case scenario, I'll lose my life. Which sadly sounds unimpressive.