Page 7 of Kiss-Fist
And really, it has to be illegal in most states.
He takes the phone back and begins another agonizingly slow sentence.
Blue Shirt: ‘I’m Thom and this Kyle. Kyle thikns I no asl but I just no som ABCs. Sry. I can do ur appt tho if u wnat.’
I don’t want. I really don’t want.
But I also don’t want to look like some chicken shit who’s scared off by gym bros and sexy nipples and hot tattoos either. And in spite of it all, Dimples—Thom, however you saythatname out loud—seems nice.
Whatdoesn’tseem nice is the thought of having to stop every ten seconds for him to pantomime or type on my phone when he’s trying to tell me how to do a workout regime without tearing an ACL or accidentally ripping my shoulders out of the sockets.
I know I’m being overly dramatic about this, but I wouldn’t be me if I weren’t.
Me: ‘I come back when Zev here.’
Thom’s face falls, and he snatches the phone before I can slide it back into my pocket and end the madness. Why does that make me both angry and hot at the same time?
This time, he pushes something on the screen and speaks into it. Oh. Voice text. Not a surprise that I didn’t think of it before, but why didn’t he?
Thom: ‘He won’t be back for like six months. His mom died.’
Well, hell. That’s almost like a gut punch. I don’t know the guy well, but there’s this unspoken rule that the Deaf community is family in ways that hearing people will never understand. I need to make sure I ask Mellie or one of my brothers about this.
And I need to send flowers or…I don’t know. Liquor.
Before I can reply, Thom’s hand reaches out, and he closes his meaty fingers on my forearm. He doesn’t try to speak again, which is something. He jerks his head toward the front desk and drags me—metaphorically—kicking and screaming toward a smiling woman and a stack of clipboards with paperwork on them.
It feels like I’m about to sign my soul away, and as I look into his light brown eyes surrounded by dark, dark lashes, I wonder if I’m going to be filled with gratitude or regret.
Those dimples show up again, and I feel myself grow a little light-headed. God damn it. Why am I such a pushover? Butngh, the way I want to sink my tongue into one.
No. Nope. I have rules, and I will not break them to get involved with this hearing person. No matter how amazing he looks or how badly I want to climb him like a tree.
The effort it would take to teach and educate him about not only my language but also my culture isn’t something I want to commit to. I’m far too lazy and much too busy to bother. Dimples and abs or not.
A clipboard is shoved into my hands, and I stare down at it. I have to sign something. But I already did this. Mellie sent me a link that wasted a full fifteen minutes of my time signing release forms and other stuff swearing not to hold the gym responsible if I break the rules and then break my neck.
I sigh and then take my phone out to tell him.
Me: Did this already online.
He reads it and then jerks his head toward the gym floor. When I don’t move fast enough, he grabs onto my wrist once more and pulls me forward.
I’ve never been manhandled so much in my entire life. And while I protest against it mentally, my body goeswillingly.
God, the way I’d let him throw me around a room…No, damn it. I refuse. I have my rules for a reason.
As we walk through the gym, I see Thom making conversation with other gym members, pointing to his crotch and smiling. He’s not even embarrassed about it. He seems like perpetual sunshine, and next to him, I’m a rain cloud on agloomy day. I wouldn’t be smiling and joking about wet pants.
I’d have run home and changed. And then maybe refused to show my face for a week.
I’m fun like that.
Finally, we come to a stop in front of an elliptical machine. I only know what this is called because Imayhave watched a few too many YouTube videos with half-naked men using them. The way their asses move and bunch while they’re on them is quite the sight. And sometimes if I squint with one eye, I can catch a glimpse of their dicks bouncing.
I stare at the machine and then meet Thom’s gaze. He points to it and then fingerspellsrun.
Well, hetriesto fingerspell run and ends up spelling outtun,but it’s the thought that counts.
