Page 100 of The Right Sign

A smirk grows on her pretty face. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

We hold eye contact.

And then we both laugh.

* * *

Henry’s being weird.

Well, he’s always weird.

So correction—Henry’s being weirder than usual.

He keeps looking over his shoulder as if we’re being watched. Every so often, he’ll check his phone and tap his thumb against the back of it.

“Everything okay?” I sign.

I’m moving carefully since this is an area I’m not familiar with. Walking and signing takes a lot of focus and there have been a few times where I ran into benches on the sidewalk because I was so into a conversation.

He signs, “I think it’s up here.”

“Are you sure this won’t take long? I have a meeting.”

I promised Dare I’d be at the magazine shoot by ten thirty. He offered to pick me up, but I don’t want him and Henry locking eyes.

So far, my best friend hasn’t mentioned the interview, but it seems likeeveryoneis talking about it.

Overnight, my follower count blew through the roof.

The modeling agency sent a long-winded email about how much they appreciate having me ‘on the team’.

I was even recognized in the grocery store yesterday.

If strangers know about me and Richard Sullivan, Henry will find out soon enough. I need a way to bring it up so he stays calm and doesn’t do anything stupid.

“What exactly is the big surprise?” I sign.

Henry leads me into an abandoned warehouse. There’s camera equipment in the center of a graffiti-themed room. The place looks… grungy. But when Henry turns off the light, the room comes alive. Neon decorations hover in 3-D over the walls. Striking pink and purple hues. Another world.

I suck in a breath, impressed.

Time to get to work.

Since it’s so dark, it’s difficult to sign which means there’s very little talking between me and Henry while I pose. That works for me, and I find a nice rhythm.

Time as a concept doesn’t affect me when I’m modeling. This is my happy place. I move fluidly in front of the camera, adjusting the various items that Henry brings me. After a while, I notice the accessories I’m modeling are far beyond our usual sponsored product quota.

I walk under the lights and sign, “Did we make a new brand deal?” Wrapping my fingers around the sunshades I just had on top of my head, I wiggle it toward him.

Henry grips the camera and a little tick appears in the muscles of his jaw. Slowly, he releases the camera and signs, “When were you going to tell me you were dating that billionaire guy?”

My breath freezes in my chest.

Guilt rolls over me like a persistent fog.

Shoving the glasses back on my head, I squirm, “I can explain.”

---