Signed /Dream Team/

36

The tension in the room is so
unbearable that the sounds Nick is making with the straw are almost comforting.

Clay puts his hand on the side of my bare thigh and gives it a little squeeze. From the way he does it so unnoticeably, I get that it was a signal to get off him.

I awkwardly wiggle around on his lap cause one of my legs is numb and I can feel the annoying pins and needles every time I try to put even a bit of my body weight on it. And the friction of my uncoordinated movements makes him suck in a breath and dig his fingertips in my thigh.

"Sorry," I whisper, finally rolling away from his lap. Immediately my attention moves to George and Nick, "Hii.." I press my lips together.

George is visibly confused. His furrowed brows and slightly parted lips say it all.

"Told you he's not dead," Nick looks at George. He's clearly talking about Clay.

I hear George say something along the lines of "yeah" or "yet". All I know is whatever he said sounded dry and unamused, so I don't even know if any of the options is better than the other.

My whole leg is completely numb from sitting on it uncomfortably for quite a bit, so when I try to get up it bends, making me sit right back down as if nothing happened. They all look at me weirdly and Clay exhales sharply, holding back a laugh. It can't get more awkward than this.

After a few more seconds of silence, somebody finally has a thing to say.

"I'm done with my drink, do you want the ice?" Nick speaks once again, looking at Clay this time.

Just when I thought things couldn't get more bizarre, Clay starts chewing on ice. The silence is now replaced with the crunching sound and somehow it's even worse. I'm begging for my leg to go back to normal so I can escape the awkward tension without limping or even worse, falling over again.

George and Clay make eye contact and something is unsettling in the way they're looking at each other. It's the uncertainty and questioning in George's eyes and the skill of looking like he doesn't give a fuck in Clay's eyes. If George looked at me like that, I would probably pass out. Yet Clay is carelessly staring at him and chewing ice.

I clear my throat and finally stand up, thankful for the heavens for not letting me fall this time, "Does anyone want coffee? I'm gonna mak-"

"Can you add a teaspoon of condensed milk to mine?" I'll never understand Nick's preferences, "And almond milk. And sugar. Thank you."

I look at Clay and he shakes his head. I don't think I ever saw him drinking coffee anyway.

I'm about to look at George. His voice quickens my movements.

"I'll help you," he smiles.

For a moment I want to reject his offer cause his smile is passive-aggressive. But it doesn't look like he was asking. He's already on his way to the kitchen.

If he asks about what just happened, I'm just gonna jump out of the window. And seeing that he closed the kitchen door behind him, confirms my plans. There's no other way out, it's just the window. We never close that door, should I be scared? I didn't even know there was a door there.

Anyways, even though George was here to "help", all he does is lean on the counter and watch. It's not helpful to say the least, it's actually pretty distracting.

"What?" I don't hold up well under pressure.

"Nothing." He's still looking.

I try to ignore his presence and finish making the coffees. But right as I tilt the carton of milk, I pour half of it on the countertop and the other half drips down my elbow.

Great.

I give George the side eye as he presses his lips together to hide the smile. At least he's nice enough to clean it up for me before I finish washing my arm.

And after that, he has the nerve to smirk while speaking.

"So how was your day?"

"It was okay," I dry my arm with a towel.

"Why just okay? Looked like you were having fun."

I knew it was coming, but he could make it sound less judgemental. I huff, looking at him with tired eyes, "It's not what it looked like, George."

"I didn't even mean it that way," he shrugs. It's not believable at all, "I'm glad you're finally getting along."

I keep my eyes focused on Nick's coffee, "Right.."

He probably hears the disbelief in my voice, and to be fair, with the wording too it sounded far from being convincing.

"I'm serious," George walks closer to me, "I was just confused that you ended up in that position when 2 days ago you wouldn't even talk to each other."

It's frustrating that I can't even explain what was going on. I can't just tell him that I straddled Clay to stop him from calling and telling that I like him. And I don't want to lie and turn it into a big deal, I don't owe him an explanation to start with.

"It just happened, I don't know," I'm almost done with the coffees, "nothing's changed."

The way George says "okay" makes me sigh. Everything feels so wrong and weird that I drop a few ice cubes trying to put them in Nick's cup. I groan in annoyance.

Seeing me struggle like that makes George grab my hand and smile, "Ana, it's okay, honestly," he chuckles, "relax."

"It's weird and I'm uncomfortable," I admit, "and even if you didn't walk in, it'd still be weird and uncomfortable. And there's ice on the floor."

"It's nothing," he's smiling at how uncomfortable I am, and his smile is making me even more frustrated.

Because I'll just die on the spot if anyone walks in on us, I try to pull my hand away even though I like the feeling of his thumb drawing circles on it. One embarrassment a day is more than enough for me.

"Heey," he secures my hand and tries to make eye contact but I'm looking everywhere except for his face, "forget about it, alright? It's okay."

"Sure," I look behind George while he's looking at me. The door is still closed and I'm hoping it'll stay like that.

George's hand travels up my waist and nestles there. I finally look at him and melt at the way the corner of his lips is pulled up a bit. It's enough to make me swallow hard and my insides to tingle.

And my head must be high in the clouds, cause when he speaks, I forget about everything.

"Come here," his voice is close to a whisper. I take one small step and it makes him pull my body all the way until our feet touch.

The rest is a blur. He cuts the distance between our lips and my eyelids fall heavily as I sigh into the kiss which is getting deeper and deeper at an alarmingly quick pace, making my hand curl into a fist on his chest. At one point my back hits the counter somehow and even that is not enough to shake me back to reality.

I'm thankful for his cold fingertips that contrast so much with his hot tongue that when I feel them sneaking under my shirt, my eyes pop open. I realize that we're still in the kitchen and his friends are still home, and before things get out of control I pull away and gently push George away.