Your Voice

I lay in my bed late on Wednesday night, staring at the ceiling. I can't exactly see it, only the outline, but I was hoping if I stared at it long enough I would fall asleep. It hasn't happened yet, and if I had to guess I'd say I'd been laying here for over an hour. But my mind wouldn't settle enough for me to fall asleep for the night.

I’d gone to Gemma’s house for the third time after school, and we’d revised our project even more. I would go as far as to say it was virtually perfect, and to be honest I had never fixed a project up so much in the past. Gemma was a perfectionist, and she still wanted to show it to Dylan as if we were presenting to class. Which meant just Gemma would present it because I couldn’t even talk. Or hear for that matter.

We were going to show Dylan our work today, but then Gemma got a text message after the sun had gone down, saying he would be back later than usual and not to wait up on him. Gemma had frowned but offered to walk me home; I declined, knowing it’d be pointless and I didn’t want her walking back to her house when it was so late. I don’t think her brother would either.

But for some reason, I was immensely disappointed in the fact I wouldn’t see Dylan today. I still am disappointed really. He didn’t get to drive me home and I didn’t get a goodbye hug, the way I’d gotten one the last two times. Which still made me uneasy but I think I will warm up to the feeling of his strong arms wrapping around me. Especially if it becomes frequent.

I am so unbelievably confused. I'm not going to try to deny it any more. Dylan gives me the oddest feelings, things I've never experienced before. His lips are so enticing, and I find myself wanting to touch them every time he speaks to me. Never mind his hands, in a weeks time I'll be a pro at reading his lips, that's how closely I watch them. The way he looks at me makes my cheeks warm, for a reason unbeknownst to me. When he hugged me last night, my stomach twisted painfully and I realized for the first time, well ever, I was having butterflies. And then today, the overwhelming sense of disappointment that I didn't get to see him made everything click in my head.

I had a crush on Dylan.

It was probably just a stupid school-girl crush, and I knew Dylan saw me as nothing more than his sisters deaf best friend. Why would he see me as anything more? For one, I'm a male. He's a male. That's wrong, isn't it? Another thing is that he is hearing and I am deaf. Never mind the fact he knows sign language, if on the off chance he was into men I would never be able to offer him a normal relationship. I can't go to the cinema with him, watch the new romantic comedy that came out. I can't speak to him in low tones, sweet nothing's that will make his heart pitter-patter. And I'll never hear his laugh; a sound I'm positive would bring back the butterflies. I can't offer him things that a hearing person could, and he wouldn't understand me in ways a deaf person could. And then the last factor is the fact he's three years my elder; I'm his sisters age. It would probably freak him out if he knew about my crush. I'm just a kid compared to him. I feel like one any way.

All these thoughts are preventing me from falling asleep, and I hate it. I hate feeling self-conscious and I hate being so confused as to why I find a boy so attractive. I absolutely hate it.
~

The next day at school, I'm the walking dead. My feet drag behind me and my tie stays loosened, regardless of the fact teachers constantly tell me to fix it. I pretend I don't hear them which is technically more accurate than you'd think.

I'm stumbling my way to the cafeteria, completely bent on napping rather than eating, when a hand lands on my shoulder from behind. It scares the crap out of me, making me whip around and slap at the arm that's touching me.

My heart is beating wildly behind my chest, my breaths increasingly as I pant in fear. But I shouldn't worry because it's only Chris, the boy who eats lunch with me and I'm pretty sure likes Gemma. His face is apologetic as he waves; his brow furrows as his tongue sticks out of his mouth. I watch patiently as he raises his hand and signs incorrectly, "Are you okay?" but he grins when he's done and I can't help but smile too.

I nod, opting not to sign back as he probably wouldn't understand any way. He's beaming, obviously proud of himself for asking me the question. I figure it's better not to point out he messed it up a little bit, I still understood the question. That's all that matters; plus he's too cute to disappoint.

He has nothing on Dylan though. I scowl internally at that thought, wishing he wouldn't worm his way into my head when I was content with him being elsewhere.

Chris speaks now, and I can tell he over exaggerates his words so it's easier for me to read his lips. It's a bit hard but I catch the jest of what he's saying.

"I'm learning sign on YouTube," I think he says. Then he smiles cheekily and says, "I'm rubbish. Are you on your way to lunch?" I nod, smiling as he jerks his head in the direction of the cafeteria. "Lets go."

I follow him in silence, my hands in the pockets of my blazer. He's grinning, but I can tell he's nervous. He keeps twisting his hands together, stumbling in steps every now and then. There's a thin line between his brow, small wrinkles at the corner of his lips as he frowns. He's definitely nervous, but I can't tell what about. And I'm not about to question him on it. He wouldn't understand me any way.

When we get to the cafeteria, he follows me all the way to the table. Which is unusual because he's typically a bit late. He'll get his food first or something. Instead, he stands beside me where I sit, nervously tapping his fingers against the table and looking around anxiously. I seriously want to ask him what's wrong, but I keep my mouth shut.

When Gemma gets here, his face smooths and a giant grin takes over his features.

I understand now what's going on; I bet he's either nervous just to see her or he is going to ask her out. Either way he gains his confidence as soon as she sets her things on the table, leaning against the chair and smiling cheekily as her own face becomes red.

They talk, and I don't know what they're saying, but I watch them any way. Gemma's hair is down for once, and she twirls the ends of it in between two fingers in a feminine manner. Another arm rests across her chest, her hip jutting out. For some reason her actions fascinate me more than Chris's.

I don't know why but I love watching couples interact. Even if they technically aren't a couple, it's obvious they have feelings for each other. So I watch them, wondering if I'll ever be in that situation. (Unlikely.)

Chris breaks eye contact, looking down at his shoes as he speaks. His cheeks get red and I'm comforted because I'm not the only boy who blushes in this school. For awhile I thought I was. He runs a hand through his short hair and then glances back up at Gemma.

When my best friend hugs him, I blink in confusion. I've obviously missed something. If I was smarter I would have tried reading their lips, but I was too busy watching their reactions. Currently Chris is a grinning idiot as he walks away from the table, off to get food. One of Gemma's girl friends, Paige I think, claps her hands and laughs. I imagine it was more a giggle but I'll never know. Gemma fans herself and is laughing too, positively beaming.

I look away quick, realizing how upset I was making myself. I'd tortured myself watching them interact, only to realize I was so out of the loop I might as well be nonexistent. I had no clue what was going on; typically I was able to guess, but I'd never seen two people act the way they do nor the way Paige is acting.

The chair beside me pulls out, and I look to my right to see Gemma grinning as she sits down. Her eyes are crinkled at the end and everything.

"Chris just asked me out,." She signs.

Oh, it makes sense now. That's why Chris had been so nervous, he was afraid of what Gemma would say. Then he saw her and must have decided he liked her too much to care. He was obviously peacocking for her the entire time he was asking her out, and she wasn't doing much better, twirling her hair around and pushing out her hip. Paige reacted the way girls do in some of the books I read; all jumpy and excited and I bet anything she squealed. I hope Gemma didn't expect me to act like that, because I wasn't that excited. Happy for her, sure, but I'm not camp enough to jump up and down. I'm not even camp!

Well, I don't think I am...

I smile to let Gemma know I'm listening, and she begins to explain, her hands moving rapidly. "At first he was stumbling around with his words and I didn't understand what he was saying. But then he finally asked if I wanted to do something Sunday, just the two of us."

My smile widens as I rest my palm against her bicep, squeezing gently. I remove my hand so I can sign, "That's fantastic! Why Sunday?"

She smiles wistfully, brown eyes looking over my shoulder as she imagines what it will be like. I find the situation amusing but I manage to refrain my grin. "He works all weekend, Sunday is his only day off."

I nod in understanding, although I don't work myself so I don't really know. To be honest, I'm not sure what kind of job I would be able to get. I can't exactly hear if my boss dictates orders and I can't speak to customers. Which makes me wonder if I'll never have a job. Surely my parents won't just kick me out, at least not until I'm eighteen. But legally, I can't be denied a job. I hate thinking about my future because of these reasons; it only makes me scared. I'll probably end up homeless and starving, and then I'll die and no one will care.

No, I refuse to let that happen. I'll think of something; I have no other choice but to.

"Are you excited?" I ask. "What do you think you'll do?"

Gemma shrugs, shooting me a timid smile. "Of course I'm excited. Chris is super cute, don't you think?" My face burns red, so hot I can feel it against my cheeks. My smile pulls into a frown as I wonder exactly what she meant. How would I know if he's cute or not? I'm not gay. I mean, just because I find Dylan hot and get butterflies when he hugs me doesn't mean anything. Not really. But Gemma doesn't notice my reaction, she just keeps talking, her hands flowing so smoothly they remind me of water, which is a weird analogy but it's true. "I think we're going out to eat and I'm not sure after that. I'll have to ask Dylan for a bit of money, but hopefully Chris is a gentleman who will pay for me! Speaking of Dylan..."

Her hands stutter before she breaks off. I look at her face to see she's biting her lips, eyes downcast in a manner that almost seems innocent, yet I feel like she's anything but. I wave my hand until she looks up, then sign, "What about him?"

Her mouth opens a bit and I imagine she's letting out a sigh, before she uses one hand to half-hide her face and signs with the other. "I don't want him to know I'm going out with Chris."

My brow pushes together, confused by what she's said. I always thought her and Dylan seemed ridiculously close. Isn't this something she wants to share with him? I don't know what her past love-life has been like, but I'm sure it was hard before she got the implant. Love lives always are if only one partner can't hear or speak. I'm sure he would be happy for her, any way. He seems the supportive type, especially since their parents died. Although I don't know any details about that, I still imagine he's stepped up to an almost fatherly role.

Gemma notices my reaction and sighs again, shaking her head sadly. "You don't understand. He is super over protective and would probably forbid me to go. I really like Chris, so I can't tell Dylan what I'm doing. He'd want to meet him and interrogate him and other awful things. Trust me."

I bite my bottom lip harshly to conceal my grin because, shit, I didn't know I would find that so cute. He's protective of his little sister? It literally does warm my heart. He must have taken the fatherly role seriously to be that protective. But damn if I don't find it to be the most attractive thing. It makes me wonder if he'd be protective of a boyfriend. Or girlfriend, which I'm sure he is more likely to have. But I can fantasize, can't I? Even though it's just pure torture.

"Please don't tell him," Gemma pleads, jutting out her bottom lip in a pout.

I roll my eyes at her before signing that I won't tell him. Who am I to tell him? It's her date and her secret, I guess. Besides it's not like Dylan and I have deep conversations. The odd one here and there, usually about Game of Thrones, but I'm not just going to casually bring up the fact his sister has a date. Talk about awkward. Although that might bring up the subject of dating and I am curious as to what Dylan's interested in. Not that I'd ever have a chance, but it'd be nice to know.
~

That evening, Dylan doesn't come home until late. And despite the fact it's ten when he gets there, I'm still sitting on his couch watching Friends with Gemma. He seems more up-beat than he did the last time I saw him, and I knew he had school after work today. He grins when he sees us, loosening his tie and announcing he'd be back in a few minutes.

Gemma surprises me when she turns off the TV, reaching for her laptop to open our project's PowerPoint. But I remember she wanted to present to Dylan, and despite the fact I'm a bit too tired I don't say anything, because this is Gemma and it's something she wants to do. Besides, it means I get to spend a little more time with Dylan. That's something I should avoid but to be honest I don't have the control for that.

As she sets that up, a thought runs through my head. And out of pure curiosity, I can't help but ask Gemma. "Is Dylan seeing any one?"

One of her brows quirks high, the corner of her lips pulling a bit up. My cheeks get red as I realize how that might have sound, but before I can justify myself she signs, "Why? See something you fancy?"

"No!" I sign rapidly, reaching over to hit my friend on the shoulder. Gemma's mouth falls open as she rubs the area, but not as if I hurt her or she's mad. More like she couldn't believe I did that. But as the days passed on, I grew more comfortable around her and wasn't so afraid to be myself. Or the way I pictured myself being if I had friends before. This is still a new thing to me.

"It's okay if you do," she signs, smirking slowly. She radiates cockiness and I would hate her for it if I wasn't so busy blushing like an idiot.

"I do not!" I sign in what I hope is a firm manner, but she just keeps smirking and finally looks away from me. I suddenly want to hit her again.

Gemma looks to a place over my shoulder, and I follow her line of sight to see Dylan coming into the room, wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a tight t-shirt. His shoulders look so broad I can't help but want to touch them, and then I feel like an idiot because. Well. Who wants to touch shoulders?

"Good day?" Gemma signs, smiling as she sets her computer on the coffee table and stands. Dylan nods, taking a seat next to me and sitting closer than usual. I can practically feel the heat coming off him and it makes me want to lean in closer. I refrain.

Dylan sets his warmed plate of leftovers in his lap before signing, "Great day! I'm not sure why, it just was." As usual, my eyes watch his pink lips. He turns to me and grins, as if he knew I was staring and I can't help but blush, especially with the way Gemma is watching me like a hawk. "Now I'm here with you two and it's gotten better! Are you going to show me your project?"

"Yes!" Gemma says, and I only knew she said it because I was watching her. She didn't bother signing, but I didn't take offense to that. It isn't that big of a deal, at least not the way it was when I was at lunch and she was freaking out with her friend Paige. "In class, I'm going to sign and speak," Gemma says, using her hands this time as she grins. I stay on the couch because it's not like it's that big of a deal if I get up or not. When we present in class tomorrow, I'll stand up with her. But there won't be much interaction beyond that and I don't think anyone expects it. At least my English Language teacher is understanding like that. I can't say the say for my English Literature; it's a shame because that's my favorite class material wise.

Gemma goes through our project, beaming and moving her hands as fluidly as her words. Well, as fluidly as I imagine her words being. She has a great presence, that's for sure. I don't have to hear her to be able to tell that. When she finishes, Dylan sets his plate down again so he can clap; I can't help the laugh that escapes my mouth before I clap along with him, even though I did half the work. Gemma was the good one here though and if we make a perfect score, it'll be her doing. Not mine.

Gemma bows cheekily before Dylan laughs and says, "That was great! The only thing I suggest is rearranging the slides about the effect texting has on essay writings."

"That's what I was thinking," Gemma says, nodding her head as she shuts the laptop. "But I'll do that later tonight. There's only about fifteen left of Friends, can we finish it?" She asks her brother.

Dylan frowns and looks at me, and when I shrug in response he says okay. Gemma settles down on my other side, leaving me in the middle again. As Dylan sets his plate on the coffee table and settles back to watch the remainder of the show, I realize how knackered I am. I barely got any sleep the night before, considering I was up thinking about Dylan the entire time. (Something I will never admit out loud, ever.) And I never napped during lunch. The whole day was pushing down on my shoulders until, two minutes into watching the rest of Friends, I fall asleep.

It feels like seconds later that a hand is shaking my shoulder. I jerk up, heart pounding wildly in fear. When I move my head from the pillow I was using, however, the top of my skull whacks against something equally as hard. I pull back with a hiss of pain, rubbing the sore spot before I look up and realize- I hit Dylan.

He looks a bit in pain, cupping his jaw as he looks at me. It occurs to me then that what was my 'pillow' must have been Dylan's shoulder, and when I jerked up, I must have hit him. I feel awful instantly, and without thinking, I move toward the older boy.

He stares right at me as I remove his hand, wincing at the red spot on the bottom of his chin. It's a bit swollen too; I don't think it would bruise or anything but I bet it hurt and I still felt bad. I touch the tender skin, and when Dylan doesn't flinch I cup it gently, tilting his head to the side so I can get a better look. Dylan watches me, not saying a word as I probe the area with a finger, sure to be gentle.

Eventually, when I touch a bit of stumble and it makes my stomach twist, I realize what I'm doing and quickly pull my hands away. My cheeks redden as Dylan smiles, almost tenderly. We stare at each other for I don't know how long, but it's enough to be awkward and then I force my gaze away from his caramel one, down to my hands that sit in my lap.

Dylan moves his hand into my line of sight, so that I look up in time to see him say, "We should get you home, it's late."

I nod, agreeing, but only because I felt weird after touching his face for so long. I'm sure he thought I was weird, too.

I don't think I'm getting much sleep tonight, not any more.