Signed /Dream Team/

13

I stand behind Clay and wait for an appropriate moment to tell him to leave.

For a second, I'm mesmerized looking at how quick his fingers are moving on the keyboard. I know nothing about this game, but his skills are pretty impressive if I do say so myself.

"Leave the room so I can change." I speak with a regular voice tone and regret it immediately. He doesn't react; he's wearing a headset. I should've screamed.

For my second attempt, I try to be as annoying as possible by leaning down, pulling the headset back to reveal his ear, and repeating my words - with my mouth inches away from his ear. And I make my voice louder too, close to a scream, which is disturbing for him enough to pause the game and turn his head to face me.

I don't like how close our faces are. Tall people with green eyes and blonde hair that are named Clay scare me.

"I heard you the first time," he speaks slowly, turns back around, and continues to play.

"Then why are you still here?" I cross my arms and stand still in my spot.

"I'm busy."

"You're literally just playing a game,' I can't stand him.

"So?" He's still playing.

"So leave."

"Kick me out. You have all the power," the ignorance in his voice makes me wanna punch him.

Deep breaths. He's not worth it. He can play his game all he wants. My house, my room, my body. I'm not even shy, I'll just change. Anyone who opened my Instagram saw me in a bikini, underwear is the same thing, I don't care.

I hook my fingers around the hem of my sweater and try to pull it up.

"I can see you through my fucking monitor, Anastasia," his keyboard noises intensify.

"So?" I repeat his words, pulling my sweater all the way up and tossing it on the bed. I'm wearing one of my favorite sets, by the way, I figured I should dress up for my first day of work.

He leans back on his chair, takes off the headset, and recklessly throws it on the desk. He gets up and gives me a death stare as I unbutton my jeans.

"You're fucking irritating," he speaks through gritted teeth, his eyes glued on my body before he leaves the room.

First of all, yay, I won. And second of all, is he scared of boobs or something?

Anyways, I proceed to get dressed. They have a dress code in the bar and it's.. questionable. I have never seen a dress code that includes a choker. And the tight button-up black shirt I need to wear is not your typical button-up, it has a deep cut and my cleavage is out in the open. The clients are gonna have a fun time when I start shaking drinks. And I'm starting to think that it was the point when they came up with this outfit.

And I also have to wear my hair up in a slicked-back ponytail and put on specifically deep red lipstick. I wonder if they're asking for way too much for what they're paying.

Once I finish getting ready, I notice that I have flyaways everywhere. I barely brought any hair products with me, all I have is George's hairspray and I'm scared he'll have a heart attack if I use it again.

I'll try to make it work again with no products. I undo my hair, get a good enough height for the ponytail, and realize that I do need the hairspray.

"George!" I yell, still holding my hair up.

"Yeah?" He yells back.

"Will you bring me your hairspray?"

He doesn't respond, but soon I hear footsteps and he opens the door, with the metallic bottle in his hands. I look weird holding my ponytail up infront of the mirror, but he looks weirder with his cheeks stuffed with food.

"Oh wow, you look amazing," his words are muffled from chewing.

"Thank you," I hold my pony with one hand and extend the other to grab the hairspray. He doesn't give it to me tho.

"Hold it there," he steps behind me. I see his reflection in the mirror as he grabs my brush and starts slicking back my hair, finally swallowing the ridiculous amount of food in his mouth, which I think consisted of the gummy bears he found in Clay's bag earlier today.

"Ah- ouch!" I try to pull my head away but he fixes it in place with his hand.

I watch him spray a shit ton of hairspray on my hair and slick it back once again with the brush. I don't know if I'm getting butterflies from the fact that he's doing my hair or chills from the pain he's inflicting on my scalp.

"I'm gonna go bald if you don't chill- aH!" I hope my scalp is not bleeding.

"Shh, look how pretty you look already," I know he's joking from how giggly he is, but I still feel good from his words.

He spends half a minute putting my hair in a ponytail, but I can't say that the end result doesn't look better than anything I could've done.

I stand up and look at myself in the mirror while he's still behind me. I open my mouth to thank him, but my breath gets caught in my throat when I feel his fingertips on the side of my neck - supposedly still fixing my hair.

I look at him through the mirror and hold my breath seeing that he's maintaining eye contact while making changes to my hair.

"Okay, done," when I can't feel his touch, that's when I can finally breathe.

My skin is burning, I can see the redness on my cheeks even under the makeup. To escape the situation, I quickly thank him and leave the room, pretending that I'm running late.

"Anastasia!" George's voice stops me, "Can I get your number? We're living together and still don't have each-"

"Yeah, sure," I just want this to be over already, this is torture.

I type out my number and save it as "Anastasia". Then I almost melt seeing that he saved his name with a blue heart next to it on my phone.

I should go now. I should run.