Page 38 of Unloved

I watch as he unfolds his legs and arms, pushing himself up off the floor. The sight of him continues to leave me speechless, and I have to admit, I love how completely unfazed he was by my surly attitude. The both of them, actually. They just took it in stride, content to wait for it to pass. And that’s why I’m here and not with my family.

They love me. So much. But they hover, and after today’s appointment, I don’t have the bandwidth to deal with their hovering. My brain is overflowing with information that I’m struggling to process, and until it all makes sense, I can’t sit there and deal with hundreds of questions when I don’t know all the answers.

Not to mention, Frankie is still pretending he isn’t licking his wounds because I shut him out. I know he’s concerned, but I can’t even carry the guilt I’m supposed to for keeping secrets from him; that’s how heavy I feel right now.

My eyes drift to Samuel and Rhys as they laugh together in the kitchen, and my racing thoughts seem to slow down as I take in the ease in which they interact with each other. I should feel jealous at seeing Samuel so comfortable with someone else. Especially when he’s so prickly and standoffish to ninety percent of the people he meets.

But with Rhys it’s different.

With Rhys, Samuel talks and smiles and laughs. With Rhys, worrying about me isn’t Samuel’s focus, and I think I like that the best.

I watch them as they return, pints and spoons in hand. They both sit down on the floor and I shuffle myself upright. Rhys hands me the tub of cookie dough ice cream and a spoon, and I take it with my good hand. Remembering the sign for thank you, I use my free hand, ensuring it’s open and flat, bring my fingertips to my chin, then move them away.

Rhys’s lips stretch into a blinding smile, his eyes full of pride. He places his ice cream down on the table and picks up his cell. He then quickly types into his phone and turns it to face me as he brings his hand to his chest, stretching his fingers to look like the number five before pointing at his chest with his thumb.

You’re welcome.

My chest tightens and my eyes sting as I try to keep the unshed tears at bay. Tears that have nothing to do with the sign language, but everything to do with the man whose face lights up at teaching it to me.

“Want to pick another movie?” I say, hoping to distract myself and him from the mixed bag of emotions I seem to be carrying with me these days.

He nods and, just like that, the heaviness from earlier has been lifted.

Just as I’m about to lie down on the couch, I realize my selfishness and stay upright. “You can both sit up here, you know?”

Samuel turns his head and eyes the couch before raising an eyebrow at me. Okay, it’s probably a fraction too small for the three of us, but now that I’m out of my own head, it feels extremely obnoxious of me to take up all this space and have them sitting on the floor.

“Fine, I’ll sit on the floor.”

Samuel’s hand finds my knee, stopping me. He rises up to his knees and then leans on the couch to prop himself up. He takes a seat beside me and then Rhys does the same, making it more than obvious they don’t want me sitting on the floor.

It’s a tight fit, especially as Samuel makes sure I have the most space because of my arm. “This is silly, I don’t need this much space,” I grumble.

Both of them ignore me, grabbing their ice cream and their cell phones and then squeezing themselves into the farthest corners of the couch. I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

We all take spoonfuls of our ice cream while Samuel multitasks and flicks through shows we could watch on Netflix.

It’s a nice change of pace for the three of us, enjoying one another’s company. There is no crisis, there is no sad story; it’s just us.

I nudge Samuel’s thigh with mine. “Let’s watch this.”

He stops it onPeaky Blindersand I turn to Rhys. “Have you met Tommy fucking Shelby?” I ask, knowing it sounds like the worst accent ever.

My thoughts are confirmed when Rhys doubles over, laughing at me. He’s breathtaking when he smiles, and the ability to bear witness to it is the only thing that soothes the sting of knowing I’ll never know what his laugh sounds like.

The intensity of my thoughts hits me like a ton of bricks, and I grab the remote control from Samuel to try and push it away.

Is that what this is?

Am I attracted to him?

I press play on the show and am not even a little bit surprised that Rhys is someone who has all his streaming services set to closed captions. It’s always the little things with Rhys, derailing me one unsuspecting moment at a time.

Rhys puts the remaining ice cream back in the freezer and then the three of us squeeze ourselves back into position. It’s not even a little bit comfortable, but I know none of us is going to be the first to complain.

Before I know it, we’ve almost finished season one and I can feel my eyelids getting heavier. I know I need to check in with Samuel and tell him we should leave, but I can’t seem to make my mouth move or my eyes stay open. It isn’t till I feel someone repeatedly nudging my good shoulder that I remember I was supposed to tell Samuel we needed to go.

I squint when the glow of a phone screen shines on my face. Slowly, I open my eyes, noting that it’s Rhys who’s holding the cell in front of my face. The screen reads:

---