Page 35 of Unwanted

“Where and why did you learn how to sign?” it reads.

He makes himself comfortable, moving his feet farther into the room and taking the seat that was mine, closest to Lennox.

Taking the whiteboard and marker from Lennox, he wipes the words off with his hand and then answers the questions.

They go back and forth talking this way and we all watch, enthralled.

It isn’t till Samuel’s stomach growls that I remember the original plan. Pizza.

I open up my Messages app and start a group chat, something that seems so insignificant, yet a wedge of emotion sits in the back of my throat as I add Remy, Lennox, and Clem’s contacts to the group. It’s been a long time since we’ve all amicably been in one place and, though I hate the reason we’re all in the hospital, I don’t know if this would’ve ever happened without it.

Nonchalantly, I ask Samuel for his number, and even Rhys, hoping that when I ask Arlo for his we can bypass the awkwardness of me deleting it all those years ago.

He lets me off the hook when he says, “Yeah, I changed it a while back,” and rattles off the numbers.

When we’re all set, I type and send out a message.

Me: I’m going to pick up pizza for dinner. Anyone have any specific requests?

A string of messages come through, and thankfully nobody seems too fussy. I make the effort to tell everyone through text that I’ll be back as I exit the room.

“Frankie,” Arlo says behind me. “Wait for me. I’ll drive.”

I didn’t want to fixate on the offer he made earlier, but if there was a chance to be alone with him, I was going to take it.

Stopping just outside of the door, I call the closest pizzeria and put in the order while also watching Arlo check in with Rhys before joining me.

I hang up and point to Rhys. “You can stay with him if you want,” I say. “Since he doesn’t know anyone.”

He looks over his shoulder, into the room, and my gaze follows his. Rhys is talking and signing and writing on the whiteboard, like a one man show, and they’re all watching him attentively.

“I haven’t known him for that long,” Arlo admits. “But he looked like he needed a friend tonight, and he seems in his element right now. I don’t think he’ll mind that I'm gone.”

Closing the door, he turns to look at me, and the words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. “It’s so good to see you like this,” I say, my hand cupping his cheek and my thumb grazing his scruffy jaw. “You looksogood likethis.”

He stills, and I know I should drop my hand, but I want him to be the one to tell me to.

I want a reaction from him.

Anyreaction.

His brown eyes bore into mine, his hurt and longing mirroring my own. Calloused fingers wrap around my wrist, but he doesn’t push me away.

We stare at one another, the inhale and exhale of his breath matching mine.

He rubs his thumb over my pulse and I’m certain he can feel it quicken. Closing his eyes, he leans into my touch for a few long, silent seconds before pushing my hand away and pushing away the moment of vulnerability between us.

He doesn’t say a word, instead choosing to walk ahead, leaving me with no other choice but to follow his retreating form.

The silence extends as we enter and exit the elevator and he leads the way to his car. When I climb into the passenger seat, he’s already inside, his head leaning on the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

He refuses to look at me. “For what?”

It’s a fair question when I have so much to apologize for, but I take the easy way out instead of saying what I know he really deserves to hear. “For touching you.”

Lifting his head off the wheel, he scoffs, sitting up straight but still avoiding my gaze. “You think I want an apology for you touching me?”

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