Page 63 of Kiss-Fist
It has to, because I have never felt like this before, and I’m not ready to give up on what this could be. I will eat as much crow as my friends want to serve me about falling for a hearing guy so long as he and I can talk first.
And my heart kicks up a notch because calling an interpreter during an intimate moment like this kind of sucks—there’s no other word for it—but it means I’ll get to communicate with him fully for the first time since we met.
By the time Thom comes out, I’ve got my laptop set up on my rolling standing desk. I have it lowered toward the bed because every muscle in my body is aching right now, and I just want to collapse against the pillows.
I don’t. But it’s a near thing.
Thom looks a little better now. His cheeks are less splotchy, and his hair is more ordered than the windswept mess the storm had created. He still looks a little unsure, and that only grows when he sees the laptop screen.
‘It’s okay,’ I assure him.
He points at the laptop. ‘What is that?’
‘I’m going to call an interpreter.’
I know he knows that sign. It’s one of the first vocabulary words Denver introduces to his class since there are so many on campus.
Thom blinks at me, then bites his lip. ‘For me?’
‘For us,’ I clarify. I pat the space beside me and sigh, cradling his face between my hands the moment he sits. His cheeks are still cold, so I lean in and press my lips to the right side and just hold him for a moment. God, I needed this. Pulling back, I roll my shoulders, then say, ‘We need to talk.’
His eyes widen. ‘That’s bad.’
I shake my head, fighting off a small laugh. ‘Good talk. I promise. True-biz,’ I add, not sure if he knows that one yet.
He smiles, so I’m guessing he does. ‘Okay. Not dirty talk, right?’ He spells dirty talk, and it says something about what he’s been practicing that he doesn’t mess up any of those letters.
I roll my eyes. ‘Not now.’ I lean in and steal another quick kiss, lingering for a beat when I feel his moan, then force myself to lean back, log in, and start the request. It doesn’t take long for it to connect, being that it’s a weekday and it’s getting late.
The interpreter who takes my call is a woman with olive skin, a young face, and grey streaks in her dark hair. She’s got wide, brown eyes, and a friendly smile, and she’s in her standard black, long-sleeved shirt to make it easier to see her hands on the screen.
‘Hello, my name is Carol,’ she signs her employee number but I don’t pay attention. ‘How can I help you this evening?’ She has a slight East Coast accent to her signs, but I’m used to the geographical differences.
‘I’m Robbie,’ I spell, then give her my name sign. ‘This is Thom. My—’ I don’t know what to call him. Shit. ‘Friend.’ I feel wrong for using that sign, but we haven’t established what we are and I don’t want to tell this stranger he’s the hot gym bro I’ve started fucking and accidentally fell for. Though she’s probably going to get that in a minute. ‘He’s learning ASL but I need some help communicating with him tonight.’
She nods. Luckily she doesn’t seem interested in asking questions or making a big deal out of it, which matters inthis moment. I need her, but I want this moment to be between me and Thom. ‘Whenever you’re ready to get started,’ she tells me.
I nod, then turn back to Thom. ‘You okay?’ I mouth.
He takes a breath, then nods. He doesn’t look it, but he seems as close to okay as he can be in this situation, so I turn back to Carol. ‘Ready.’
She gives me the go-ahead gesture, so I put my attention back on Thom who has his head twisted back around to look at the screen. I catch his chin and pull his gaze back toward me, shaking my head. ‘She’s not here, understand? She is my voice right now.’
His eyes widen a fraction, and he nods. ‘I understand.’
I huff a soft laugh. ‘Use your voice so she can interpret for me.’
He doesn’t match my smile. He looks upset again, her expression and signs reflecting the worry in his voice as he speaks. “Did I really fuck up that bad? Oh god, should I not swear? Is swearing bad?”
I want to laugh. I also kind of want to kiss him. ‘Swearing is fine. This isn’t church.’
His mouth finally twitches up into the ghost of a smile. “Okay. Okay. So…this is a thing we’re doing right now. Because we need to talk? But not a bad talk, right?”
‘Right,’ I answer back. I can see Carol’s lips move a fraction before Thom’s body relaxes.
Although I need to look at the screen where the interpreter is signing, I really like watching Thom’s mouth. His lips are so full, and his face is so expressive. I fight the urge to reach out and touch him, but that’ll lead to other things,and this poor woman isn’t being paid to watch a softcore—or hardcore with the way I’m feeling—amateur porn. And while interpreters have usually seen too much, I’m not going to traumatize this poor woman.
The moment is shattered with Thom’s next question.
