Page 124 of The Stud

And every other night of the week because much like being on this team…it’s exactly where I belong.

Chapter 20

Arden

I place my non-sauced palm flat over my chest and rub it in a small circle prompting Becks to curiously cock his head to the side. “Why are you feelin’ yourself up at the table?” He sucks a bit of the wing flavoring from his thumb prior to flicking a pointed finger at me. “You wanna play charades or some shit?”

“It’spleasein sign language, you fucking plug,” I lightly laugh as Tanner slides the container, we’ve all been eating out of across the circular surface we’re congregating around at the rehab facility. “Andthis,” my open palm is placed near my chin before coming outward, “is thank you.”

“Okay,” he wipes his messy fingers onto a paper towel, “so we’re not playing Pictionary?”

“Pictionary is drawing, mate,” Tanner chuckles while leaning back in his wicker seat. “You are thinking ofGuesstures.”

“No, I’m thinking, Hot Headed Hoss – of all broadskies – doing sign language is a clear and distinct sign that the end of times is near, aye.” Kicking him under the table causes him to wince yet doesn’t halt laughter from any of us. “Come on, bro.C'est bizarre, non?”

“It’s…different.”

“It was his fucking idea!” leaves me in tandem with wing sauce dropping onto my paper plate.

Becks’ warm sand shaded forehead wrinkles in disbelief. “No shit?”

“No shit,” I retort and lift the umami-soy infused sauced dish towards my open mouth. “He got allTristan & Isoldeon me after my last audiologist appointment and insisted we start watchingYouTubesigning videos together so that we can always communicate.”

“Softttttt,” Becks impishly taunts.

“First off,do notdarepretend you weren’t the one who campaigned for us to watch that sappy rubbish,” my boyfriend bites between sips of his coconut water, “and second it is not soft to want to provide the assist to my Slayer by assuring she always has a way to chirp my opponent.”

Instantly, I stick out my tongue and point directly inside signaling disgust.

“Or me in some cases,” escapes around a chuckle.

Truthskies?

I think it’s one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever done for me.

Post rushing from a training sesh last week to attend my introductory meeting with the otolaryngologist that will be doing my surgery – who is different than my regular otolaryngologist – he made us dinner.

Asked me how I felt.

What I thought.

Was I sure this was the best decision for me.

And after listening –actually listeningunlike my parents who can only see the upside to what’s called a simple surgery – he asked was it alright to express his own feelings.

Thoughts.

Concerns.

Beingaskedversus assumed what I wanted was in itself shocking yet hearing him explain his deep concerns about the possible side effects all but had me confessing my undying love for him like that very gross, girly movie we watched the night of my birthday when my body no longer had any interest in sex.

Though thatdidrevamp it.

Not the point.

The idea of rare – but possible – outcomes such as complete hearing loss and facial nerve paralysis led him to wanting an avenue for me to always be able to communicate with him.

Apparently just drawing dicks on his things isn’t enough, so the idea to learn some simple signing together, was concocted.

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