I want to carry on refusing, but I remind myself that I’m here for Rhys, not me, so I force myself to stand up and take the plastic guitar from him. It’s light in my hands. He chooses a song on the easiest setting – ‘Heart-shaped Box’ – but I still fumble with the buttons, laughing with embarrassment, missing at least half the notes.
You just need a bit more practice, Rhys tells me when we finish. He’s clearly tried to go easy on me, but he still beats me by miles. He leans over and kisses me, right in front of all of his friends. We can play at my house.
For a second I think it’s just me who’s read an innuendo into these words, but then his grin widens, he shows all his teeth. He winks at me.
My entire body explodes in a shower of all-singing, all-dancing sparks.
By the time we leave Owen’s house it’s 10.30 p.m. and it’s started to rain. Neither of us has an umbrella so we hurry to the car, me holding my arms over my head and Rhys ambling along behind me as if the rain doesn’t bother him at all. At the car I bounce on my feet by the locked door, pulling fruitlessly at the handle.
He grins at me from the driver-side door, taking his time with his keys.
‘You suck,’ I say.
He finally unlocks the door and I scramble in, shivering, shaking my wet hair so the droplets fly all over his car. I’m about to start complaining when his hand takes a hold of my chin, his lips open against mine and – oh hello – we’re kissing.
It’s just brief, but it’s enough for my body to heat up, my heart to start thundering, a soppy grin to appear over my face. As Rhys starts the engine and cranks up the heating, I slide my hair behind my ears and settle back against my seat.
I like your friends, I tell him.
He looks pleased. Really?
Yeah. They’re very friendly.
I told them to be nice. You’ll know they really like you when they start giving you a hard time. He rests the side of his forehead against the headrest, his eyes on me. Was it OK? I could tell you were a bit nervous.
I pause, trying to decide how best to respond. I thought I’d find it easier. The BSL.
He nods. Did we go a bit too fast? Sorry.
No, you were at normal speed. I’m just slower than I realized.
You’re brilliant.
I roll my eyes. No, seriously.
You are. You hear perfectly. Why would you need to speak BSL as well as us? They all think it’s awesome that you know as much as you do.
I want to say, I want to be part of your ‘us’, but how can I? Won’t it sound ridiculous? Do you think I’ll be as good as you one day?
He smiles at me, reaching out a finger and wiping a drop of water from my cheekbone. Depends how long you stick with me.
This time, I kiss him. And this time, it lasts a little longer. His hand travels down my back, curls around my waist, hesitates. His thumb eases under my shirt and touches bare skin. Electrical tendrils jolt into my bloodstream and dance through my veins.
The engine is still running and eventually we break apart so Rhys can drive me home. We spend the journey in silence, him paying extra careful attention to the dark, wet roads, me watching the rain running down the windows.
I wait until he’s pulled up outside my house to begin talking again. Do you miss Ives?
I can tell by the time he takes to respond that his answer is more complicated than a simple yes or no. Finally, he gives a slow half-nod. I miss my friends, but I’m not sad I left.
Why did you leave?
The rain drums down on the roof, steady and comforting. I wonder what sense of it Rhys gets, whether he can feel the drumming, or if it’s all dependent on sound.
I wanted a challenge. Rhys makes a face. No, not a challenge. I needed to push myself. I want to go to university but I worried that I’d got so used to Ives that I’d find it too hard. They make everything as easy as they can at Ives – which is great, of course. But they won’t do that at uni. At least, not in the same way. So I decided to go to a new sixth form, in a totally hearing school, to see how I dealt with it.
I wait, but he doesn’t say anything. I prompt, And?
And it’s been hard. He looks away from me, his face twisting slightly. His usual cheer has gone. I thought I’d handle it so much better.
I’m surprised. But you are handling it, I say. You’re handling it amazingly.
He shakes his head. No. I’m just really good at not showing when I’m not keeping up.
I’m sure they’d help if they knew you were struggling . . .
His head shakes again. No, I’m not struggling. It’s just harder than I thought. I think I took it for granted how deaf-aware everyone was at Ives. The staff and the students. It’s about more than just having someone interpreting the teacher during lessons.
Could you ask for more support?
They’re already doing as much as they can. They’ve run deaf-awareness training for the teachers and it’s helped a bit, but a lot of the time they just forget. It’s habit, you know? I can’t blame them. I wish . . . He stops himself, frowns and then shakes his head, looking away from me and out of the window at the rain.
I touch his hand so his gaze returns to me. What do you wish?
I wish I could do this on my own. That I didn’t need anything extra. I wish I could do it all by myself.