Dima

The front door slams shut. The smell of beer wafts from the hallway, and four pairs of eyes turn to you in the kitchen doorway. I lean against the refrigerator, my green eyes glittering over the beer bottle, one dark eyebrow raised. "You're more beautiful than anything Dima ever described. He never told me he had such a stunning sister. Want to sit with us?"

My brother brought some friends home from work, and they were sitting in the room at the computer.