I point to my arm. “I did her tattoo.” I shrug. “That’s all.”
“A tattoo that included dinner?” Sam looks at Pete. “You ever had a tattoo that included dinner?”
“Had one that included a blow job. But not dinner,” Pete replies.
Paul opens his mouth to say something, but Pete adds, “I gave Reagan a heart on the inside of her ankle.” Paul calms down immediately.
Words come tumbling, almost unbidden, from my fingertips. “I like Lark a lot, but she’s not the type of girl I normally date.”
“Tits too small?” Pete asks.
I glare at him. “Her tits are perfect.”
“Ass too wide?” Pete says.
“No such thing,” Sam tosses out.
“She’s too smart for you, right?” Matt asks, but he’s grinning.
“Definitely,” I agree. She’s smart and funny and thoughtful. And scarred in so many ways. But I can’t tell them any of that because it’s her secret to tell. Not mine.
“Then what makes her not your type?” Paul asks. “Is it the hearing thing?”
“The hearing thing?” I ask, waving my hands sarcastically. “You make it sound like it’s nothing. She can hear. I can’t. It’s a pretty big thing.”
“Peck plays drums and I can’t,” Sam says.
“Reagan kicks ass and I can’t,” Pete tosses out.
“It’s not the same,” I protest.
Sam stares at me. “Peck stutters and I don’t.” The room goes quiet.
Logan speaks up. “Emily can’t read well, and I can.”
Emily has been very outspoken lately in the media about her dyslexia and has started some programs for kids who find reading difficult, so I’m not surprised Logan is bringing this up.
“Friday has a foul mouth,” Paul says. He scratches his chin. “Wait, I do too. Never mind.”
Matt shoves his shoulder.
“We’re all different,” Josh says, moving the wheels on his wheelchair back and forth so that he rocks. “Let’s face it, dude. The only thing that makes us all the same is that we are so very different from one another. If you’re going to let the fact that she can hear keep you from getting to know her, that’s on you—but you could be missing out on something wonderful.”
They stare at me until it gets uncomfortable, and I pick up the weights to break the tension.
They all go back to exercising, all discussion on the matter stopping, but I can see them shooting looks at one another, and I can tell this is going to be a topic for discussion later when I’m not around.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out. It’s a picture of my baseball cap leaning against a fire hydrant. There’s a dog standing next to it.
Lark McCapSnatcher: Your hat is in mortal danger. I can choose to save it from the dog that really looks like it needs to pee. Or I can leave it to its fate. What’s your choice?
Me: What are my options?
Lark McCapSnatcher: Lunch with me?
Me: I already have plans for lunch. Do you want to join me?
Lark McCapSnatcher: What kind of plans?
Me: Meet me at the library at 1 and I’ll show you. If you have enough balls.
Lark McCapSnatcher: Last time I checked, I had no balls at all.
Me: 1 o’clock? Library?
Lark McCapSnatcher: You talked me into it.
Me: Now pick my cap up before it gets pissed on.
Lark McCapSnatcher: (Sends me a selfie with her wearing my cap)
Me: Prettiest thing I’ve seen all day.
Lark McCapSnatcher: The cap?
Me: The girl in the cap.
Lark McCapSnatcher: Gotta go throw some cold water on my face. Totally blushing here.
Me: You want to talk about my dick? It’ll take your mind off your blush.
Lark McCapSnatcher: Dude, that just went weird.
Me: My dick wants you to know that it has balls. Since you don’t have any.
She doesn’t reply.
Me: Did I just skeeve you out?
Lark McCapSnatcher: No, I was too busy laughing to catch my breath. Your dick has balls. That’s handy. They come as a matching set, I hear.
Me: You mean I’m not unique?