Page 34 of Signed, I'm Yours!
“What glass?” I ask.
“The metaphorical one?”
“It’s my power. More like my curse,” Brandon adds, and it all makes sense.
“Wait a sec. You always see the bright side of life, and you”—I point at Brandon—“always see the shit side? What a pair!”
“Oh, we’re not a pair. I’m nothing. A no one,” Brandon says. “How could Jack ever be with a guy like me?” And here I thought I was disenchanted with life in general.
The drama queen turns to Annie, who comforts him as he cries, and I have to bite my cheek to keep from rolling my eyes. Poor thing can’t help his power. I need to remember that before I say or do something awful to him and make him want to die or something.
“But you’re the best no one there is,” Annie sings, patting his back.
“Are we going to stay out here or what? Let’s get the party started,” Zeke says and goes past me, followed by Robin, Annie, and Brandon, who are still embraced, leaving Jack and me behind.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I forgot it was movie night.”
I roll my eyes.
“You have movie nights? What are you? Five?”
“No. Thirty-five.”
“Do you think that makes it better?” I ask him.
He’s smiling again. Arghhh! He’s so annoying. But also, those dimples are…mouth-watering.
“Of course it does. I have much more cognitive consonance and life experience as well as a deeper appreciation that makes the movie-watching experience more nuanced and meaningful.”
I grimace.
“You just said a lot of big words, and it’s fucking weird.”
Jack’s friends stand by the front door to an apartment building, staring at us, and Jack walks toward them.
“Is that because you don’t know what they mean?”
I gasp.
“Bitch, please. Of course I do,” I reply.
As if I’m going to admit I don’t know what cognitive consonance means. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
Jack goes to the front of the line. I follow close behind him as he unlocks the front door and we all march toward the elevator.
“So, Jack. You haven’t told us yet. Who is Seojun, and where did you meet?” Zeke asks once we’re in the elevator, slurring his words as if there’s hidden meaning behind them. The way he’s smirking tells me there most definitely is.
“Oh, ah…yeah,” Jack says. I glare at him and try to find anything on him to squeeze threateningly. “He’s…”
The only part of him available to me, squished as we are, in the elevator, is his tushie.
A big, fleshy tushie.
“Ouch!” he cries out when I pinch it, and that warmth from before washes over me again.
What is that all about? I really need to experiment with signing people when this is all over because I hate not knowing the full effect of my power more than anything in the world.
“What?” I ask, daring him to tell them who I am. Although if what happened earlier at the office is any indication, he probably can’t say it even if he tries.
