Page 54 of Kiss-Fist
Clapping him on the shoulder, I say nothing because I refuse to trust my mouth right now, andI hurry to my office to slip into something a little more classroom appropriate. Snagging my backpack, I head for the door and decide that, at the very least, I’m going to ask my teacher for advice.
Denver was more than welcoming when I first started class, and Leaf had been right: he went out of his way to accommodate me and my pesky dyslexia as soon as I explained my issues with reading. He uses PowerPoint to give his lessons, and he uses a font that’s kind to my brain, which is something none of my other professors had ever done. And he never hesitates to check in with me after class to make sure I understand it all.
I feel seen with him, which is something I’m not used to.
So, if I can talk to anyone about this issue, it’s him. I don’t think he’ll make me feel bad for my serious Deaf culture faux pas, even if Robbie might still throw me to the curb for it.
And in all honesty, Denver is also the only one who’s going to give me a rational solution. I’d call Leaf again, but the dude is clearly losing it—stuck in a groundhog-induced mania, and I don’t know that I trust him to tell me what to do right now. He’d probably suggest buying TNT and blowing the restaurant up.
I don’t think Robbie would appreciate that any more than he would appreciate me dragging him to a fancy restaurant full of hearing people.
The one thing I appreciate about Denver is that he’s so engaging, it’s easy to forget about my problems for the hour-and-forty-five-minute class. Except then it’s over, and suddenly, the real world comes crashing back.
It’s a little weird to be on campus knowing I’m only two buildings away from where Robbie’s office is. I’ve never been, but I couldn’t help myself from looking it up on my first day. He’s in with other humanities teachers, and since I’m only taking ASL, I have no reason to be over in that building.
Except for today.
Technically, I could wait until I see him at the gym. Or I could also be a freaking grown-up and text him. Instead, I’m going to break my promise about bothering him at his place of work and show up in his doorway.
Because that’ll go over well.
But he did tell me he’s working tonight, so I know he’s there, and really, I’d like to explain face-to-face in a place I won’t be tempted to do anything sexual.
At least, I hope so. Our track record at my own place of business kind of counts against us. But I’m going to try, at least, once I get some decent advice on how to bring it up with Robbie without setting this whole thing on fire.
I linger at the table in the front of the room as the rest of the students file out. My Adderall is starting to wear off, which means I’m starting to feel restless. It’s hard to sit still as my brain begins to adjust to not being chemically lassoed into place.
My feet tap on the floor, unable to stop moving as I hum along to a little melodic pattern I make up. It’s not so bad when I’m not disturbing people, but me being me, I immediatelyknock a collection of papers onto the floor, then dive down to gather them up.
Denver peers around his computer, lifting a single brow at me, making him look a little bit like Spock. He’s got the black hair to match, though not a bowl cut. He’s got the hot teacher vibes going on with those thick arms and button-up, short-sleeved plaid shirt.
The only thing missing is a bow tie.
God, I need to control my head. Focus, Thom. Focus!
“Haha. Sorry. Just cleaning this mess up.”
“You okay?” he says aloud.
He doesn’t often speak to me unless it’s to explain instructions that I’m just not getting. He only used his voice in class once to introduce himself, and then it was voices off after that.
But apparently, the rule only lasts until class is over, I guess. Or, I don’t know. I bet it’s different with every teacher. Or maybe he’s just being nice because clearly, I’m having a bit of a day.
I spread my hand into a five and then tap my thumb to my chest. ‘I’m fine.’
He can probably tell that’s a lie with the way he lifts his other eyebrow. ‘Talk to me,’ he signs. He beckons me over to his desk, and I climb to my feet as he picks up a small black flip case and pulls out his set of cochlear implants.
They’ve got some kind of sticker on the sides, but I can’t make out what they are before he tucks them behind his ears and then attaches the round piece to the magnets under his skin. He blinks rapidly for a moment, then clears his throat.
“You can be voice-on for this if you want,” he tells me. “Just make sure you’re looking at me when you speak.”
I wish I could sign better for this. Though if I could, then I wouldn’t be feeling so shitty about this date. I take a deep breath, then say, “Are you married?” Oh mygod, that’s what I decided to go with? I hate my brain.
He blinks. “Um. No,” he says slowly. Cautiously. “And I really don’t fraternize with students, so—” Oh no! He thinks I’m hitting on him.
“No! No.” I sign it, then hold up my palms in surrender. “I’m not coming on to you. Jesus. I’m so sorry, that came out wrong.”
His shoulders sag with relief. “Oh. Good.”
