Page 115 of Fostering Chemistry
“That was amazing,” I said, still a little breathless. “You’re, um, very good at that.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. But his lips twitched upward. “But thanks.” Then his expression grew more serious. “I just meant… at the movie night, I loved having my hands on you, but… I don’t want you to think that’s the only thing I’m interested in.”
“I don’t think that.” I wanted to reach for him, to touch him, but his mood had shifted.
He shook his head, a little frustratedly. “I just… I can’t always put into words how I feel about you. So I guess I’ve been trying to show you through touch instead.”
I stared at him for a moment, wondering if he’d believe me if I said he was expressing himself very well, better than I’d ever heard him. And then I got an idea. “Maybe you can tell me.”
Cody shrugged helplessly. “I wish I could.”
“No, I mean, tell me your way. With sign language.”
“But you won’t be able to understand.”
“I’d still like to see you say it.” Now it was my turn to be unable to express myself well. I couldn’t quite explain why I needed this, but I just knew that I did. If sign language felt like his first language, then I wanted him to communicate with me that way, even if it was one sided.
Finally, he nodded, sitting up. I sat up too, pulling the sheet over my chest and leaning back against the headboard.
Cody was still for a moment, looking down.
Then he started. His hands moved in front of him, slowly at first, and then picking up speed. This was full American Sign Language, not just finger spelling, but full, fluid movement.
And it was utterly beautiful. Almost like a dance.
As he continued, his gaze lifted to mine—and held it. And his face… the expressions on it were easier to interpret than the fluid movements he was doing with his hands.
The earnest expression on his face made my heart overflow.
As for the signed words, I didn’t know what he was saying to me, but I was pretty sure I felt the same way, too.
33
MIA
“Wow, this is so good,”I said for the third or fourth time. The turkey, the mashed potatoes, the stuffing, even the cranberry sauce—it all tasted delicious. “Your sister is a wonderful cook,” I told Aaron.
He put down the drumstick he was working his way through and chuckled. “Katie didn’t cook this.”
“But you said it was from her.”
“Yes, but she didn’t cook it. Circuit court judges don’t have a lot of free time, and she can barely boil toast.”
Diego laughed at that. “So where’d she get it from?”
“Local restaurant, I guess.”
“Wherever it is, I’m a fan,” said Diego. It was high praise coming from him, since he was such a good cook himself.
“I have to stop eating,” Cody said, groaning slightly and patting his stomach. Then he plucked another ear of corn on the cob off a platter.
“You didn’t,” I pointed out.
He grinned at me. We were all being total gluttons, and it was fun. We all had wine, too, and Diego didn’t even blink an eye this time. Though none of us were overindulging on the drinks. Diego and I, at least, had learned our lesson on that.
There was far too much food, but it was delicious, and really fun to hang out and joke with these three. I was relaxed—more relaxed than I thought I’d be, considering that I both desperately wanted to be with Diego and was also a little worried about it. But he’d pulled me aside this morning, took me into the room he was sleeping in, which was one I hadn’t seen before.
There was a balcony overlooking the river, and while we were enjoying the view, he suggested that we wait until tomorrow for our turn. At first, I was a little hurt, wondering if he didn’t want me to stay with him at all, but his easy smile erased that concern.
