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I almost laugh because, in reality, that’s not even a question anymore. It’s nothing more than an inevitability.

ChapterFive

Rhett

Mellie:

Here. Get table. You here soon?

Me:

OMW, ten mins. Stuck in traffic.

We’re getting dinner.Dinner. This is a first, that’s for damn sure. I’ve never saved a guy from a wasp, gotten a thank-you hand job for it, and then been asked out to dinner. I’ve never actually saved a guy from anything before, and usually, the hand job came after the dinner date on the few I’ve had over the last couple of years.

And then, of course, always came the thanks, this was fun, but I’m not looking for anything serious text, which was something I was still anticipating.

Mellie was different though. The guy had definitely hated me until the whole incident in the truck, but I don’t think he’s the kind of person who’d change his entire tune based off a squashed bug.

So maybe I’ve been reading him all wrong to begin with?

I might not be such a mess of nerves if I’d been given the chance to trauma-dump all my anxiety, but the moment I got back to Robbie’s office, we had to immediately march downstairs for the meeting, which took up all the free time we had left before Robbie’s last two classes of the day.

‘This feels fucked-up,’ I’d told him as we approached the door. ‘It’s like interpreting my own firing.’

He was pretty done with my defeatist attitude. ‘If we get fired, I’ll hire you on as my personal interpreter, and you can follow me around to the grocery store and the bank, okay? Now, will you shut up, please?’

Shut up didn’t mean literally shut up. It meant quit panicking and do my job, which I did. And of course, neither of us was fired. We were told it was a baseless claim and that the student’s test scores and end-of-semester evaluations told all the powers that be who held our jobs in their rich, corporate America hands that there was no difference between a hearing and Deaf teacher.Andthat classes taught in ASL provided the same access to information that verbal English did.

We didn’t get an apology, of course, and Robbie later told me that the student whose mom complained dropped out. I didn’t feel good about it. The poor kid was probably humiliated, and he deserved better than all that.

But whatever.

Our jobs were safe, and that left me the whole afternoon to panic about my date with Mellie. My only saving grace was that Robbie was too distracted with some project he had going on to notice my mood. Or the very faint come stains on my pants.

We said a quick goodbye, and I felt a small pang when I walked out to see the food truck had already left for the afternoon, but that didn’t matter. I was going to see him tonight.

If this traffic ever lets up.

Sitting back, I stare down at my jeans—the most expensive pair I own, which almost makes me look like I have an ass—and I can’t help but wonder if any of this will impress him. He seemed perfectly into me when I was wearing my school interpreter, all-black getup, so maybe he wasn’t super discerning.

Either way, he’d seen something he’d liked earlier this afternoon, and I can only hope he’s still into me now that most of the day has passed.

The traffic dies down five minutes later, and I’m trying not to run the moment I get out of my car, praying that he hasn’t gotten tired and left. The poor hostess jumps when I burst through the door, but I bypass her entirely and make my way into the dining room.

And there he is. He’s facing the front of the restaurant, but he’s not looking up. He’s tearing into the free mini loaf of bread like it owes him money, and he dips it into the butter cup without using a knife. That should be horrific. I mean, really, that’s the worst table manners ever, but I’m helplessly charmed.

He looks up just as I start walking toward him, and the chair squeaks loudly, almost toppling over as he stands. His cheeks flush pink, and he rubs the back of his neck before tipping his hand off the side of his forehead.

‘Hi,’ I fingerspell.

I don’t know what the rules are for us now, but I lean into my courage a bit, rise up onto my toes to close the couple of inches between us, and drop a quick kiss to his lips. He moans very softly, curling a hand around the back of my neck, and takes his own kiss.

Deeper and definitely needy.

We break apart after a beat, and I realize we have a small audience, but he doesn’t seem to care, so why should I? I drop to my seat, and a second later, a server appears with that currently popular wind-swept, shaggy hair look.

I glance at Mellie. I don’t know what his preferred restaurant communication is like. Most of my Deaf friends want me to do all the ordering so we can move things along, but with Mellie, I feel overly cautious.

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