Page 13 of Kiss-Fist
This is going to be a problem. But it’s a problem for future Robbie. Present Robbie is now staring at one of my students from Thursday’s World History Before 1500 class. I don’t know her name, but it usually takes me a while to get most of them—and I only ever retain the ones who give a shit.
Or the ones who make a really bad impression.
This one, well, I have no clue who this is, so she falls in neutral territory.
I peer up and see that she looks nervous to step into my office. They always do, of course. Some of themhave never met a Deaf person before. They don’t even know how to begin to communicate.
She looks at Rhett and begins talking. He shakes his head and tells her to speak to me. Her cheeks flame, and I can see her stammering. When she turns to face me, he suppresses an eye roll.
Yeah. I feel him.
‘Have a seat,’ I tell her, not bothering to look back at him. I know he’s interpreting. ‘What’s up?’
She sits down and sets her backpack on her legs and then onto the floor when she realizes it’s hindering her ability to sign.
Oh god, wait, she’s going to sign.
‘My have question.’ Her hands shake when she does this, and my heart goes out to her, just a little. I get that it’s nerve-racking, having to talk to someone who doesn’t know your language, and I know that Deaf culture, ASL in particular, is different. It seems to make people even more anxious when trying to communicate.
My eyes move over to Rhett, and I see him sign and speak at the same time.
‘I’ll sign for you so you don’t have to.’
“Oh, okay.”
She sighs in visible relief and then begins to speak, my eyes moving from her to Rhett as I figure out what she needs. As I answer her questions, one by one, I find that she’s not the worst student I’ve ever had and actually has potential.
I’ll probably even remember her name in the future.
When she finally leaves the office, my arms are throbbing, and so are my shoulders.
‘You need to stretch after a workout. Next time, don’t just run away like a baby,’ Rhett tells me, and I glower at him.
‘I almost died. Understand? I had to leave.’
I do not mention my hard dick and the very untimely way I got an erection.
That makes Rhett giggle, his hand landing on his stomach as his lips curl up. ‘I doubt that. You’re just lazy and need to work out more often. Start slow.’
‘I did, and it was too much. My heart wasn’t made for this.’
That makes Rhett laugh even more, his eyes starting to water. I reach my foot out and kick him roughly. He gasps, his mouth falling open.
‘That’s not nice.’
‘Stop it,’ I sign with a flick of my wrist. It’s a larger sign, casual, but I know by the end of his ribbing, it will be curt and quick, signaling how annoyed I am. Not that he cares. He’s known me long enough to give zero shits.
‘You can’t quit. You need to go back to the gym today and work out to make your muscles less tense. Do some kind of recovery walk or something. Or maybe a yoga class?’
I’m definitely not a yoga fan, but while I’ve never heard of a recovery walk in my life, I debate that one. It has nothing to do with wanting to go see Thom and his sexy man muscles bunching and flexing as he moves.
‘I don’t think I will. I’d rather die. Just bury me with a lovely headstone.’
That only makes Rhett laugh again, and as if on cue, that sign gets clipped and fast. But then I expected nothing lesswhen it comes to my best friend and coworker. He lives to torment me.
I don’t think too hard on why I’m back at the gym after work. If I did, I’d be slapping myself silly. As I drove here, I told myself that I was only here to inquire about the recovery walk that Rhett mentioned, and it hadnothingto do with Thom.
Or how frantic my dick has been to see him.
