My name?
He makes the sign again, his hands coming together like owl eyes then springing apart, his hands separating. His eyes meet mine and he smiles, then fingerspells the word. B – R – O – N – Z – E. Bronze.
A balloon swells in my chest. It lifts me right off the ground. You chose a BSL name for me?
Is that OK?
Before I can think about what I’m doing, I reach over and take his hand. I take his hand. It’s great.
He beams, relieved and pleased and shy, and gives my hand a little squeeze before releasing it so we can carry on talking. How was your food?
Good. You?
It was good.
It’s hard to talk while we’re walking, particularly as it’s already getting darker. I feel a kick of frustration – there’s so much I want to say to him. So much I want to hear. But we are who we are.
How does it feel being eighteen?
He shrugs. The same so far. Thanks for coming tonight.
Thanks for inviting me!
My parents are so happy I’ve made a friend like you. They’re really pleased you came.
Friend.
I look at him, trying to read his face in the dark. One of the things with BSL is that it’s pretty hard to say something you didn’t mean to say. There are no slips of the tongue when you talk with your hands. So did he mean ‘friend’ to tell me something? Was Meg wrong?
I’m pleased we’re friends too, I sign carefully. His eyes flick from my hands to my face, a slight crinkle in his forehead.
Can I ask you something?
Of course. I try to cover my terror with a smile. The pact.
What did you and Meg talk about? When you went to the bathroom? You were gone a while.
How can I answer that? How? I decide to be playful. Girl stuff.
Girl stuff?
I nod. We walk in silence for a while. I slide my hands into my pockets to keep them warm and try not to breathe too loudly. This is the loudest silence in the world. I can hear our footsteps.
After a while, Rhys makes a noise I can’t translate and signs something I can’t read. I squint at him. What?
He tries again. This time, I can just make out you and like and tonight. Well, that sounds promising.
One more time?
He lets out a half-laugh of frustration and takes my arm, pulling me a few steps down the road until we are both standing directly under a streetlight.
Did you like meeting Meg tonight?
Really?!
I look at him directly for a few seconds, letting him register the expression on my face. Then I sign, slowly and deliberately, Do you really want to talk about Meg?
Another long pause. He shakes his head. But . . .
But?
Did she tell you?
Tell me what?
Rhys raises his hands to his head and tugs on the ends of his hair, his face agonized. And then, finally, he says it. Meg isn’t my girlfriend.
I feel a ridiculous, inappropriate beam break out across my face. Isn’t she?
No.
That’s interesting.
He looks torn between laughter and panic. For a moment we just stare at each other. The glare from the streetlight makes his face look orange. She told you that, didn’t she?
Yes.
Did she tell you anything else?
God, this boy. He’s just as much of a wuss as I am. So you know what? I decide to just go for it. Let me be the bold one for once in my tiny, scared little life. She told me you like me.
He hesitates. He looks like a little boy. I do.
Not as a friend, I amend. As . . . more.
He nods. Yes.
I’m still beaming. My face is starting to hurt. Rhys is looking at me with such hopeful fear on his face it’s making me want to leap into the air and punch the stars. Cartwheel down the street. Burst into song. Say ‘hello!’ to everyone I see.
I see him bite his lip. Do you. Pause. Maybe. Pause. Like me too?
I nod. My smile might break my face.
We stand there under the streetlight beaming at each other. This is the part where we kiss, right? We’re going to kiss. I am going to kiss this boy. He is going to kiss me.
I wanted to tell you for so long, he says. His signing is looser and quicker now. But I didn’t know how. What if you didn’t like me too? What if I ruined things? I liked getting to know you.
I want to ask, why? But I also don’t.
I liked getting to know you too. I thought you might have a girlfriend the whole time, though.
His face falls. I’m sorry.
I didn’t think I was allowed to like you.
What an inadequate word ‘like’ is, I think. Such a small word to carry so much hope.
You are. You definitely are.
I know that now!
Rhys gives me a bashful, sheepish smile – my God he is completely, ridiculously beautiful – and then launches into a long, handy monologue about making a friend who he could talk to and not spoiling a friendship and how he tried to drop hints and – And I take hold of his hands, move a step closer and crane my neck. My heart is buzzing. It’s making my whole body vibrate, a dizzy hum of joyjoyjoyjoyjoy.
And he hesitates, leans down and kisses me.