Page 13 of Signs and Signals

“I am so sorry you had to witness that. I also want to apologize for the way my mother treated you and the things she said. She gets a little overprotective because of my career, but there’s a difference between protective and overbearing. Come to think of it, she’s always been overbearing, never protective. I hope this didn’t ruin your evening, because for me, this night has been a dream come true. Great, now I sound sappy, like a four-year-old dreaming of being a princess and finding her prince charm—” Atlas rambles on, catching himself mid-sentence, clearly saying more than he intended.

His cheeks flush pink, and I can’t help but think, my lord, can this man be any hotter?

“No, my night isn’t ruined, and you don’t sound like a four-year-old girl, trust me,” I laugh, careful not to reveal that I have a four-year-old princess at home.

“Then why haven’t you said anything? I know we just met and know almost nothing about each other, but please don’t let what happened tonight ruin any chance I might have of getting to know you better,” Atlas pleads.

“First off, I don’t know what your career is; you only know mine because you’ve seen my work,” I smile, then continue. “Secondly, I will never let anyone dictate my choices in life again. Lastly, the reason I didn’t say anything is because you rendered me speechless. Atlas, no one has ever stood up for me except my best friend or my big brother. No one. You are the first person in my life to stand up for me, and you don’t even know me, yet you defended my honor. I was just stunned,” I admit, feeling more honest with him than I’ve ever been with a stranger. But somehow, he doesn’t feel like a stranger. It’s as if I’ve known Atlas my entire life, which is an odd feeling.

“You don’t know who I am?” He looks puzzled. Am I supposed to know him? Maybe I should have researched the hosts more thoroughly. I shake my head, still confused.

“I play baseball, Indya. Do you live in Riverside?”

“Oh, that’s cool. Are you in a league where you and your buddies play against other local teams? And yes, I live in Riverside; we moved here six or seven months ago. Why do you ask?”

We move from the dance floor to the wall where I was standing when he asked me to dance. I feel at ease with him, comfortable talking to him. Usually, by this time, I’d be home getting ready for bed. But this is a job, which reminds me—I scan the floor and spot Mr. and Mrs. Moore still wrapped in each other’s arms, slow dancing, oblivious to the upbeat tune that is playing.

“Yes, I live in Riverside. I was born and raised here. No, I didn’t form a baseball team with some buddies. Well, if you think about it, I do play in a league, and my teammates are my buddies, so kind of, I guess. I play professional baseball. For the Riverside Legends. I play center field. Does any of that ring a bell?” His voice is hopeful, and I almost feel bad for letting him down, but a giggle escapes when I respond.

“No, it doesn’t. I don’t watch any sports on television. I’ve heard my roommate mention the Riverside Legends a few times; I guess her boss has a box, whatever that means. But I’ve never been into sports, so I’m sorry I haven’t heard of you before tonight. I bet you play well and win games, right? I’m right, aren’t I?”

Atlas lets out the sexiest belly laugh I’ve ever heard. It’s deep and resonant, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his dimples on full display, his teeth perfectly straight and white. A few heads even turn our way to see where the joyous sound is coming from.

“Wow, you really were telling the truth. You know absolutely nothing about the game. Not to toot my own horn, but I am a phenomenal player. I’m the top center fielder in the MLB right now, so yeah, I play well. I’m known for stealing bases and being a hard hitter, which is rare in this industry. In baseball, our points are called runs, and we win our fair share of games. Last year, we were two games away from the World Series. But we’re confident we’ll make it all the way this year,” his face lights up as he talks about baseball. It’s probably the same look I get when teaching someone to sign or discussing the deaf community.

“Well, to be the best, you must be good. So, congratulations on being number one in center field, Atlas. You’ve gained a fan tonight,” I laugh.

“My position is center field, and I’m the top dog among all the other center fielders in the league. We definitely need to get you up to speed on baseball. Maybe, when we see each other again, I can teach you a few things. Does that sound doable to you?” He waits with bated breath, unsure of my answer.

I hesitate, feeling the weight of his words. “Atlas, if I have to learn something new, you have to learn something new. I’ll make you a deal: I learn about baseball, and you learn ASL. We’ll decide how long we can get together and split the time equally. It’ll be like we’re back in school, having a study group,” I say, hoping he’ll learn to sign so he can communicate with Haven when I tell him about her.

He smiles, but I can see the uncertainty in his eyes. “You’ve got yourself a deal, angel. Let me see your phone so I can add my number. I’ll send a message to myself to add you, and I’ll let you know tomorrow what my schedule looks like. Just a forewarning, though—it’s baseball season, so I may be away or training or practicing a lot. During the season, I don’t have much downtime. But I do want to see where this goes, if you’re willingto give it a try,” his voice is so vulnerable right now. How is it possible that anyone ever says no to him?

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. “I appreciate your honesty, Atlas. But I need to be honest too. I’ve got a lot on my plate, and I can’t promise anything right now. Let’s take it one step at a time and see where things go. No rush, no pressure.”

His face falls slightly, but he nods. “I understand. One step at a time.”

As I say this, Mr. and Mrs. Moore come over to tell me I’m free to go whenever I’d like, as they are heading home. They thank me, and I thank them.

Chapter Seven

Atlas

I just finished my morning workout, stepping out of the elevator, into my condo. I see my sister, Lyra, and my brother, Van, have made themselves right at home. Lyra is currently standing in front of the refrigerator with the double doors wide open, and Van is rustling around in the pantry. I know what they are looking for and they will not find it in the kitchen. I knew it was only a matter of time before their supply ran out and they would come here to steal my stash. They are so determined to find it—they did not hear me come in. I decide to stand there and wait, watching them—dumbasses, why would I keep my stash in the most obvious place.

“I am not seeing it in any of the drawers, behind any of the fruits and veggies, I even looked in his meal prep containers! Van, please tell me you found them in the pantry!” Lyra sounds so desperate; I almost give myself away by chuckling.

“I am going to lose my mind if we don’t find his stash before he gets back from the gym. I have looked in all the boxes, containers, hell, I even looked in his bin that holds his potatoes and onions. I know he can’t be out—he never runs out at the same time we do. Plus, he puts himself on a strict diet during the season. FUCK!” Van comes out of the pantry looking frazzled,his hair is all over the place, more than likely from his hands pulling at his long dark strands. I swear, he needs a haircut, it is past his shoulders. Shaking my head at both of their dramatics over something they should have ordered more of when their stash was getting low. I decide now is the time to make myself known.

I quietly make my way to the breakfast bar that overlooks my kitchen, getting a closer look. It seems Lyra is looking a little worse for wear, right along with dear old Van.

“Is there a reason you both are rummaging through my kitchen at six o’clock in the morning on a Sunday, like two crackheads searching for their next fix?” I say this in a normal tone, no higher, no lower than my normal speaking voice, but it scares the shit out of both of them. I swear they jump two feet in the air, and Van, the dick that he is, pushes Lyra towards me as he steps behind her. Pussy.

“Oh, hey, Atlas. Good morning. Good workout? What did you think of the gala? Did you take that woman you were dancing with home? Did she take you home and you just got back?”

The questions pour from Lyra’s mouth, but she has yet to make eye contact with me. I decide since they want to try and pull a fast one on me, I am going to make them sweat a little bit.

“Good morning, little sister. I always have a good workout. I thought the gala was great. I had a great time. I did not take her home. She did not take me home. We only exchanged numbers before she left, but she was hesitant. I was at the gym and when I walked in the door ten minutes ago, you and Van were here in my kitchen. Is there something I can help you find? Also, why are you both sweating and out of breath, looks like you both are stressed about something? Wait, I know, were you going to surprise me with breakfast? Were you making me French toast?!” I make my facial expression matchthe excitement in my voice. They know I very rarely go off my meal plan during the season, and when I do, those moments are few and far in between.

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