Signed /Dream Team/

35

Me and Clay were sitting on the opposite sides of the couch and waiting for George and Nick to come back. There wasn't much of a conversation going on, just me checking on him every now and then to see if the headache got better or not, and him nodding or shaking his head in response.

Maybe it was because of the silence that when he finally spoke I almost choked on air.

"Do you like George?"

My eyes pop wide open. For a second I thought I heard him wrong. But I can't think of a sentence that would sound even similar to what he asked.

A quick flash of a frown appears on my face as my teeth capture the skin of my bottom lip.

"What?" I'm buying myself time to try to figure out what the hell is going on.

"Do you like George?" He repeats as if I didn't hear it the first time. I thought he'd elaborate, but no, he has to be complicated.

A hundred thoughts race in my head and none of them seem to be a good enough answer. And my silence must be suspicious.

"Uhh, what do you mean?" I hesitantly speak again, just to break the silence.

What if there's a chance that George likes me and Clay is testing the waters? If that's the case, I don't want to say no.

"Do you like George?" He has the nerve to repeat it the third time, slower.

But what if there's something else going on and George doesn't like me? It's gonna be so embarrassing if I say yes.

And also, Clay's opinions, beliefs and feelings have been everywhere lately. I don't think it's a good idea to trust him with that sensitive of an information.

"Why are you asking?" I run my hand up and down the side of my thigh trying to comfort myself.

"So that's a yes?" Clay's face is clear of any type of emotion.

"No," I shake my head, "why are you asking?"

"No?" He's so good at exhausting my mind.

"I'm not gonna tell you anything until you explain," I cross my arms.

Clay stares me down. His poker face is too good. My brain is glitching already.

"Do you like Nick?"

"What? No!" I immediately deny and regret it.

Right at that moment I see what he did there. I didn't give the same reaction to the question when there was George's name in it. He set me up and I fell for it like the idiot I am.

And to make things even worse I unwillingly cover my mouth, making everything ten times more obvious.

"I fucking knew it."

And I'd expect him to look satisfied. That's usually how the kids in middle school looked when they tricked me into saying my crush's name. Yet his expressions became saddened. He looks disappointed..? Regretful almost.

"Why does it even matter?" My voice is full of uncertainty, I'm trying to change the topic or at least put the pressure back on him, "What were you gonna tell me anyway?"

Clay shakes his head again, "Doesn't really matter," he finally speaks, "nothing, I'm gonna call George."

The first thought I had was that he was gonna call George and tell him that I like him. If only I knew earlier that it wasn't the case and he just wanted to see when they'd come back. This whole circus wouldn't happen.

I quickly waddle on my knees towards him on the couch and snatch his phone, "No, stop-"

The poor guy looks disturbed. That's how I would look if someone attacked me and stole my unlocked phone. And keep in mind that all he wanted to do was call George with no malicious intentions.

"Give me my phone back- jeez," he curls his upper lip and forcefully snatches the phone back.

I have him cornered on the couch, but he's annoying enough to hold the phone up - high enough for it to be out of my reach. And he didn't bother explaining that he wasn't going to tell George. Well, I didn't bother to tell him that I thought he was gonna tell George, so blaming him is not that fair.

From his perspective, all he sees must be a crazy bitch trying to steal his phone for whatever reason. And honestly, what am I if not a crazy bitch trying to steal his phone?

"I swear to god, stop-" I try to reach for his phone, but the angle is not quite right.

Without even bothering to reflect on it, I straddle him to get a better angle and reach his hand. But there's no phone in his hand now. He dropped it as soon as I straddled him. And the fact that I did it so carelessly proves that my mother's genes are strong.

Because the object that had my whole focus on it is no longer in my range of view, I end up looking at Clay, "Don't tell George." I warn, pressing my index finger to his chest.

His eyes are foggy. Frozen in his spot, he speaks vaguely, "I- I wasn't going to."

"Then why were you trying to call him?" I frown, still not trusting him.

I know that Clay's done with me at this point, but I have to say that he's holding up really well, "I just wanted to see where they were."

I don't know if it's the patience he's showing that amazes me or the relief that he wasn't going to tell George, but my muscles relax immediately. I deeply exhale, my shoulders slope down, and my legs relax. Which at that moment I didn't realize how disastrous was. I drop down to his crotch.

Clay's breath gets caught in his throat. He audibly whimpers. And even then I'm so caught up in the conversation about George that I don't notice.

"Does he like me?" I narrow my eyes, leaning down a bit.

Clay looks at me dumbstruck. I'm waiting for some type of an answer but he's stuttering over letters, not even words.

"I- how- I'm- I th- I don't- listen- I-"

I part my mouth and furrow my brows trying to understand what's he trying to tell me. I decide to make his task easier, "Just say yes or no."

Clay full-heartedly groans and that seems to reset his brain. He's finally able to construct a sentence.

"Don't expect me to fucking concentrate when- when you're- when you're just sitting on my lap!" He's just yelling at me.

Oh so it wasn't distracting when he slept on my lap for 10 hours, but when I do it, it's weird.

I sigh and roll my eyes, trying to get off him. But then there's an unexplainable look in his eyes as they become focused on something behind me.

I turn around and see George and Nick frozen in their spots.

The only person who dares to move is Nick. He slowly leans towards the straw of his iced drink, wraps his lips around it, and starts sipping the remains of the liquid with an obnoxiously loud sound. And he does all of that while making eye contact with me.