The second Nor steps though the door, my body snaps in awareness. Only one person has the ability to do that to me. The one girl I’ve been fantasizing about for a while now. I was so close to kissing her when I took her to my tree house. I can’t seem to stop staring at her mouth, especially when she says my name. That bottom lip, fuller than the top one. Every time I close my eyes, I imagine how her mouth would feel against mine. I just want to kiss her. That’s all. Kiss her and touch her skin. I’ve given up pretending that I’m not interested in her, because I am. I’m admitting it shamelessly. Our nightly star-gazing is the highlight of my day.
Right after our trip to the tree house, I lay in bed, thinking about my evening. She was easy to talk to, and she listened. The longer we talked, the more her eyes came alive, chasing away the shadows and pain from their depths. Other than her dad being the king of douche-dicks, that evening had been in my top five of all times. I can’t stop thinking about all the ways I could erase the constant look of pain in her eyes.
And now, she’s standing in front of me, watching my every move with her big, innocent eyes. She’s pulling me into their lushness, and she doesn’t even know it.
I’m in trouble, and I welcome it willingly.
Clearly, I’m obsessed.
My gaze moves to her mouth as I wait patiently for her to say something.
Cole is still staring at me. Maybe I should have settled for our nightly star-gazing session and let him come to me when he was ready.
I shake my head to clear those thoughts. I’m here now. The need to talk to Cole, to be close to him, has surpassed all rational thought. It’s probably not healthy, but I need to. My desire turned into a craving that night when he came to the roof and hooked his pinkie around mine.
I step closer, braving his stare. The only thing that betrays his nerves is the way his fingers fiddle with his beanie on the table.
I wave at him. “Hi.”
He nods once, but doesn’t smile back. His eyes are fixed on me, watching intently.
I bite my bottom lip and glance down at my hands, feeling a little nervous. Lately, Josh hasn’t been around a lot. I’ve resorted to learning a few signs by searching the various sites dedicated to teaching ASL online.
I bend my fingers to form a curve and bring them to my middle with the knuckles touching and then roll them forward and point at him, smiling and say, “How are you?”
He blinks and the corner of his mouth tips up in my favorite almost smile.
Success! I’ve managed to get that addictive smile and also surprise him.
I pull out the chair across from him and sit down, enjoying that look on his face. I glance at the notebook in front of him. It’s full of what looks like geometric drawings. Elegant and beautiful and very complicated. I feel a vein explode somewhere inside my head. My eyes are drawn back to the notebook and the hand gripping a pencil. They are beautiful fingers. Long, strong, capable of inducing so many emotions in me with just a simple touch. They are artistic fingers.
“Thought you might need this, Keds.”
I jerk my head up and see Simon place a glass of ginger ale in front of me.
“It’s on the house,” he announces with a wink.
He turns and signs something to Cole. Cole’s lips twitch as if he’s fighting a smile and shoves his middle finger in Simon’s face.
Simon laughs and leaves the room, shaking his head. Cole is back to watching me like he’s seeing me for the first time, taking every feature in before focusing on my mouth. I browse through the limited ASL knowledge in my head for something witty or clever and fail miserably.
Angling my face to make sure he can see my mouth, I sign at the same time as I say, “I enjoy talking to you.”
His gaze leaves my hands and returns to my face. He clears his throat, his lips twitching.
Yep. That probably didn’t come out right.
I clear my throat and wait until his focus narrows on my lips. “I enjoy talking to you, but you never talk a lot. You come to my roof, lie down next to me, breathe my air and watch the stars. But you never talk to me.”
He grabs the pen and turns a fresh page on his sketch book and scribbles some words on it. And then flips it around and slides it toward me.
You’re a terrible signer.
Heat crawls up my cheeks and I look up at him. He’s smiling now. Grinning, actually. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
He pulls the notebook back and writes on it again before pushing it back to me.
Use your mouth and speak slowly. I love to watch you while you speak.
Holy hell!
“You do?” Those are the only words capable of leaving my mouth. My brain cells. . .gone. Poof!
He nods, his gaze still fixed on my mouth. I lick my lips, the courage that acted as fuel when I walked over a few minutes ago has vanished.