Your Voice

I don't see Dylan again for the rest of the school week, although we text and on Wednesday we Skype until almost midnight. Which hadn't been a smart thing on my part considering Thursday I was barely able to stay awake. I blamed Dylan and he apologized, but even through text I could tell he wasn't serious. I could just imagine him wearing a shit-eating grin that I'd want to kiss off his face.

Ever since our make out on his couch, all I wanted to do was kiss him. It's like once I had my first taste, I was addicted. I blame it on being a teenage boy; I'm young and just like the stereotype suggests, I am hormonal. Especially now. I've always had tendencies but it's like now that I've experienced some stuff first hand my hormones are going insane. I won't even deny it. I just want to lay around and kiss like that all day every day. Which I haven't admitted to Dylan and I don't exactly plan to.

I'm surprised when he texts me Friday asking if I want to come over on Saturday, and even more surprised when he tells me to bring a bag of clothes. It was over text but I can imagine how unsure he'd been; he was asking me to stay the night, which was a lot different than when Gemma asked me because that implied I'd be sleeping with Dylan, didn't it? And ever since I stayed there last weekend that's all I wanted. I didn't want to sleep in the same bed as Gemma, I wanted to sleep with Dylan. And I won't lie, though I'm far from ready, I thought of what people did when they shared beds late at night. And who knows, maybe I was ready. The thought of it got me more than a little bit excited, anyway.

I pack clothes to sleep in and clothes to wear the next day, heading towards Dylan's at about noon even though Dylan wouldn't be home for a little while longer. Gemma had asked me to come over and keep her company; apparently Chris was working that whole weekend and they couldn't sneak off together.

We wind up just watching Friends and she talks a lot. But that's normal considering Gemma is a pretty talkative person; if you got her on any subject she was remotely connected too she was going off into rants. But I sort of liked it and I wasn't filling in the gapes between conversations, so it was okay with me if she did. She mostly talked about Chris, which got a little annoying, but I'd never say that out loud. Well, you know what I mean. Besides that I found her and Chris adorable. I just about gushed anytime we were at lunch and he wrapped his arm around her and she blushed bright red. Chris was honestly an amazing guy, and his sign language was getting better, especially as Gemma took to teaching him. He was honestly sort of cute when he tried signing to me in the hallway and completely got it wrong. I was starting to become fond of the lad, and I felt like maybe we could be friends. He was just so genuinely nice it was hard not to like him.

I hadn't actually spoken since I told Dylan yes, and I didn't plan to. Speaking aloud wouldn't be a frequent thing with me because I had no clue how I sounded. I would probably butcher every word that came out of my mouth and despite the fact Dylan assured me it was good, I didn't believe it. It was too embarrassing for me. Maybe Dylan could interpret what I was saying and maybe it made me feel good, using something I hadn't in such a long time, but I didn't want to risk coming across as an idiot. There are some words I can remember how to pronounce, like the ones I knew from before I got sick, but there was also words I could only guess on. At least in spoken language; sure I could pronounce them in my head for the most part, but actually saying them was different. And I didn't want to risk looking stupid in front of him. So for now I'd stay in silence, even if Dylan had texted me yesterday saying he missed my voice...

About an hour before Dylan was meant to be home, and I'm assuming he was on the train, he text me. We're gonna go out to eat, just the two of us. Dress to impress ;) x. I blush like an idiot because, I mean, come on how could you not? Dylan was like the perfect boyfriend, and this whole time it'd felt we were dancing around each other and he was hesitant to do everything, but as soon as I said yes to being his boyfriend he had no reserve. He just leapt head-first into it, like a nose dive, and I loved it. I loved being pulled down into his lap and him kissing me longer. I don't think I could get enough of it.

I turn to Gemma, biting my lip, and sign, "Dylan says we're gonna go eat, just the two of us."

She grins widely, like she always does, and I suspect she giggles. She says, "The two of you are too cute. It's like another date!" I bite my lip before nodding, looking back at my phone and texting, I'm already at your house, but I'll try my best xxx. At first when we started texting I'd been afraid he would find me stupid with all the kisses and hearts I tended to put. But he'd yet to complain and I'd like to think he liked my 'kisses' anyway. He did call me a good kisser earlier this week and saying that was a confidence boost would be an understatement.

"Can I use your restroom?" I ask Gemma, biting my lip as she furrows her brow. "To make myself look nicer," I clarify, gesturing to my t-shirt and sweatpants I'd come over in. I hadn't been aware Dylan and I would be doing anything, so I only brought clothes for tomorrow, but I guess I could wear those. Hopefully Dylan wouldn't notice something like that.

Gemma rolls her eyes and tells me I don't have to ask for permission before pushing me off the couch. I'd never admit this but she's actually stronger than me; I hadn't expected to get the wind knocked out of me when she shoved her hand into my ribs anyway. But as far as strength goes I was definitely on the lower end of the scale. I'm pretty sure a fly could hurt me I was so wimpy.

In their bathroom, I wet my hands and run them through my hair, attempting to tame it. I tried to make it all stay pushed to the side but some of it stuck straight out. Unfortunately there wasn't much I could do, my hair often had a mind of its own. I just frowned at myself and gave up eventually. Luckily for me my outfit was a little nice, the one I'd brought for tomorrow, so I felt like it would 'impress' Dylan, hopefully. It was only a dark blue V-neck sweater that hung off my skinny frame and brought out the color of my eyes. But it was warm and I wouldn't need a jacket with it; it wasn't quite that cold out. Just a little nippy. And then I settled on the dark-wash jeans I brought with my tennis shoes. I was afraid Dylan was taking me to some five-star quality restaurant, considering he flat out told me he wanted to spoil me. I'd never been spoiled in my entire life; my parents didn't even learn BSL for me! How was I supposed to feel about Dylan throwing money around? That money could go to so many better places and if I just took it from him he might eventually get tired of spending it on me and then what? He'd leave me and I'm not sure if I could handle that.

I shake my head; surely he wouldn't take me somewhere that fancy. I think the only pair of trousers I owned were my uniform, anyway. I hope that wasn't an option for us in the future.

Gemma cuts into my line of sight in the mirror, making me turn around with a questioning furrow of my brow. She's grinning widely though I don't know why and it kind of creeps me out. But then she signs, "Your eyes look really blue!" and I flush in light embarrassment. It's not every day someone tells me my eyes look blue, or that I even look good in the first place. When Dylan called me beautiful the last time I was here I thought I was going to faint! "But your hair..." She signs, grinning and wiggling her brows. I blush again, this time for a different reason, and pout as I turn around to try and pat my hair down. It's just not doing what I want it to do.

"Here come to my room," she signs and it looks weird in the mirror but I get what she's saying. She grabs my elbow and steers me away from the bathroom, even though I protest a little, and then sets me on her bed. I swear my blush is permanent as she flutters around her room before finally producing a black beanie which she promptly sets on my head. I blink, looking up at her as she nods approvingly. "Much better."

I frown uncertainly; I'd never worn a beanie before and it made me feel sort of silly. They were things girls wore weren't they? And this was definitely a feminine looking black beanie, but I guess if it hid my awful hair it was worth it. I might look camp but maybe Dylan would find that attractive. He was gay so maybe that sort of thing reeled him in. I'm thinking too much on this; I always do.

Gemma whips around all of a sudden, startling me. I look around her to see Dylan standing in the doorway, coat in his hand and tie already loosened. I had a feeling he loathed dressing so nicely for work, but he couldn't deny that the way the trousers hug his hips was delicious. Wait a minute, did I just call it delicious? What is wrong with me?

Dylan says something but he doesn't sign, and my heart drops slightly to my ankles as I hadn't been able to catch it. I could only imagine how much harder this relationship would be if Dylan couldn't sign, but even since he knows BSL I found it difficult. It would be so much easier if Dylan dated someone he could just speak aloud to, but he'd never be able to do that with me. Honestly I think the list of reasons why Dylan should be with someone else is endless, and I try not to linger on it's length, but my eyes often stray towards it. I can't help myself, I've never had friends before let alone a boyfriend. It was still all so new to me.

Dylan waves, a form of hello, and I wave back as I stand and make my way to him. Before I'm even there Gemma shoves at my back, making me land straight into Dylan, and then slams the door behind us. I have a sinking suspicion she yells something by the way that Dylan grins widely, but I'm at a loss as to what it was and Dylan just looks down at me with a softer smile. Who cares about Gemma, I see her five days a week and spend hours with her, I haven't gotten to see Dylan's smile since Monday.

"Hi," I sign shyly, taking a step back. I don't get far before Dylan's arm is constricting around my waist and pulling me back in, pressing a tender kiss to my lips. I could definitely get used to this, I decide as I rest my hands on his broad chest. When he pulls away I giggle a little, blushing. "Nice to see you too," I joke and Dylan laughs; I'm positive he does because I can feel the rumble in his chest, and it mesmerizes me a little. I just want to touch his chest all the time, especially since now he is talking and I can feel the vibrations in my fingers.

He signs with one hand, not wanting to let me go to use two, "Are you wearing Gemma's beanie?" I can feel the heat off my cheeks I blush so hard, ducking my head slightly in embarrassment. So maybe it was too feminine; I should have probably stuck with the ratty hair instead. But Dylan quickly signs, "It looks cute I promise!" And I blush again for an entirely different reason. I look through my lashes and watch his lips move as he speaks; I'm a pro at lip reading what Dylan says. "Your eyes look really blue, too. You definitely dressed to impress," he winks and I didn't know it was possible to find a wink so attractive. It's just a wink, yet I felt a little hot under the collar because of it. Being sixteen and male was awful.

"Thank you," I sign shyly and Dylan just laughs, pulling my body closer with both of his arms around me and kissing me. I don't think I could get used to this; Dylan being so free now that we were official. I never thought this would happen, especially with how timid he'd been before. But now he had no care and I loved it, like I said earlier. I loved that he felt like he could just randomly hold me and kiss me. I wanted him to do it because nine times out of ten, I would be too scared too. If Dylan wasn't brave we would probably still be skirting around each other like fools.

Dylan pulls away eventually, making me pout because I definitely wasn't through with him, but he lifts a hand and signs, "I need to change before we leave," and I decided it's okay that he pulled away from the kiss. I'm sure tonight when we shared a bed there would be more kissing so I couldn't complain.

I wait in the living room for Dylan, suddenly nervous. It was technically our second date and now that Dylan left me on my own the only thing I could do was think. I know I've said thinking was a dangerous thing for me and this was no exception. I kept trying to force my thoughts elsewhere by looking at the pictures that hung on the wall, but then all I could see was the faces of a man and woman that looked familiar though I'd never met them.

I'd seen the pictures of Dylan's parents before but I'd never taken a close look like I am now. Their mom was a beautiful woman, absolutely breathtaking with dark features; I wasn't sure where she was from as far as her ethnicity went, but if I had to guess I'd say Italian. Gemma looked a lot like her, actually, with the same facial features and coloring. Dylan was the perfect combination between her and his dad, who was a burly man with the same light-brown hair as Dylan but this man had green eyes, which neither of his children inherited. They look so happy, carefree even, and it makes my heart hurt to think they're both dead. I want to ask Dylan what his relationship was like with them; it was only natural to be curious wasn't it? But Dylan hadn't even told me himself that they'd passed, Gemma had. And she told me not to mention it in front of him; I still stuck to that. I had a sinking suspicion something happened, it was bad, and it was still affecting Dylan to this day. I didn't want to be the one to bring it up.

Dylan scares me a little when he suddenly appears beside me. I jump away from the picture, as if I'd been caught doing something bad, but Dylan doesn't mention it. He doesn't seem fazed at all, just grins and asks if I'm ready to go. Something is definitely up with him and the subject of his parents.

I nod anyway and take a discrete look at what he's wearing; he'd put on a pair of form-fitting jeans and a long-sleeve shirt with a grey cardigan. I didn't realize he had such a nice sense of fashion but he looked edible.

I feel like a cannibal; first I say he looks delicious and now edible. I'm pretty sure there's something wrong with me and it's terribly confusing.

Dylan takes my hand, leading me out of the house and to his car. It's like the sky was watching us or something because as soon as I shut the passenger door behind me the heavens opened up and started pouring down rain. It made my eyes widen as I watched it, wondering where it came from when I swear it hadn't been cloudy this morning. Dylan's shoulders just shake from beside me and I think he's laughing, so I settle on a smile as I buckle my seat belt, watching as the droplets begin to pelt the car window.

For some reason I always wanted to know what the rain sounded like; that's a memory I had forgotten over the years, and it fascinated me more than wondering what music sounded like.

We drive in silence, but that's nothing new, and Dylan surprises me by pulling up to a small Italian bistro five minutes into town. A broad smile stretches across my lips before I can help myself, and I turn to Dylan to sign rapidly, "This is one of my favorite places!"

Dylan's eyes widen and he nods, seemingly impressed. "Yeah?" he says, lifting his hands to sign to me. "I haven't been here in awhile."

"Me neither," I say, turning back to look at the entrance through the rain. "Not since I was a kid. My parents and I use to come here all the time before I got sick." I look to Dylan with a smile but that falls once I see he's frowning. "What?" I ask, worried there's something on my face.

"You don't come anymore?" He asks me seriously, and I know instantly he's asking about my parents. I blush because I don't want him to know how awful they are; who knew what kind of effect that could have. I wasn't ready to find out but Dylan seemed persistent to me. I wish he would just drop the subject on them.

"After I got sick my dad owed a lot of money," I say, deciding to stick with the poor excuse I'd given Gemma just last Sunday. "We don't eat out hardly ever." And Dylan nods in understanding, so I take this to be a good thing.

I grin and hurriedly sign that we need to go before the rain gets worse, and Dylan smiles in agreement. I'm glad he doesn't push me too hard about my parents, otherwise I'm not sure what I would do. The both of us run to the entrance, laughing the entire way as we try not to get wet. In the end my beanie is pretty damp and Dylan's cardigan has stretched some, but neither of us care. Dylan just grins in a silly manner before opening the door for me. I blush but I sort of like chivalrous Dylan.

Once inside, we're seated in a far corner, where a candle is lit atop the table and the lighting is low. It's sort of a romantic setting and I love it. I take a seat on one side of the table and shiver, as my damp clothes met warm air and it gave me goose bumps. Dylan signs to me that he has to go to the loo and I just smile, albeit I'm a little scared at being left here alone. What if our server is rude and doesn't understand that I'm deaf? I just hope Dylan gets back before anything like that happens.

As it turns out, I had nothing to worry over, because less than a minute after Dylan leaves, a gentle hand is touching my shoulder. I jump a bit, turning to see none other than Chris, Gemma's secret boyfriend, a grin stretched across his face. He waves and says my name, and then sticking his tongue out in concentration signs a bit shakily, "What are you doing here?" He has to spell out a few of the words but I actually understand him easily, and grinning I point to the seat across from me. Chris's brow furrows before he bursts into another grin and says, words pronounced easier for me to read but not like he's doing it mockingly, "Are you on a date? Gemma told me you were with her brother."

I nod, blush lightly as I shrug my shoulders. I'd found myself getting a lot more comfortable around Chris lately. Like I said he was such a genuine guy that it was easy. Not as easy as with Dylan, but this was different. I considered Gemma my best friend and he was her boyfriend, so anytime we were together at school he was tagging along. And he was learning sign not just to have a connection with Gemma, but so he could communicate with me; Gemma told me he'd admitted that rather embarrassed the other day. And I found it sweet. I thought we could be good friends if I let it get that far.

"That's-" and I don't quite catch what else he says. Chris must realize this because his brow furrows before he pulls out his little notepad for taking orders and writes the word awesome down, showing it to me. I smile and nod, looking up at him.

At this point Dylan decides to come back, and his eyes are narrowed lightly at Chris. I have a moment of panic as this is his sister's boyfriend, but I remember he doesn't know that. So the 'over protective' Dylan Gemma tells me about can't come out.

Dylan says hello, though he doesn't sign it, and continues staring at Chris as if to burn a hole through him. My brow furrows as he takes the seat across from me and instantly grabs my hand on the space of table between us, entwining our fingers and running his thumb inside my palm. I blush like an idiot as he continues staring at Chris, raising a eyebrow dramatically.

Oh god I think, watching as he eyes my friend up. Maybe I am about to see his over protective side.

"Dylan," I sign, making him look at me with wide eyes. I narrow my eyes at his faux innocence but chose to ignore it. "This is C-H-R-I-S, we go to school together. He's a friend."

Dylan nods, looking at him and smiling tightly. Chris looks ready to piss his pants, and I don't blame him. Dylan is a tall guy and awfully broad, if I was dating his little sister I'd be scared too. But it's not like Dylan knew that's who Chris was and he wasn't about to find out, not from me. Still, I could almost see Chris sweating as he stood there, pen posed over his notepad. He looks at me jerkily before asking what we'd like to drink, and when he says drink he signs it and I don't think that was the right thing to do because Dylan's cheeks get a little red. We both order cokes and as soon as he leaves, I jerk my hand out of Dylan's and narrow my eyes.

He looks at me, all innocent again, and I sign, "What was that? Are you a caveman?"

Dylan pouts, slumping his shoulders some. "He was flirting," he says but I give him a look and Dylan rolls his eyes. "He was I swear," he says and I want to laugh out loud. Chris flirting with me? For one he was straight, two Dylan was the only guy I had eyes for, and three Chris was dating Gemma. I don't think Dylan had it right. "Maybe he wasn't," he says, reaching his hand back across the table to take mine. "But still, you're my boyfriend."

"I am," I muse because honestly I found Dylan kind of cute like this. "No need to worry," I wink. Dylan grins and for a moment I wonder if my wink had the same affect that his had on me. Probably not but a guy can dream, right?

Dylan grins at me, moving to open up his menu. I do as well, blinking at the prices. They'd gone up since the last time I remember, and it makes me bite my lip as I glance worriedly at Dylan, but he just rolls his eyes. He leans across the table and looks at me seriously.

"Get whatever you want- ." I blink, not caring about the prices any more. I tilt my head to the side, narrowing my eyes lightly. Dylan looks at me confused before asking, "What?"

"What did you just say?" I ask, leaning forward some to better look at him.

Dylan blinks. "Get whatever you want?" He offers and I shake my head, holding up my hands.

"You said something but you didn't sign it," I say. "You said it the last time we were together too. What is it?" Dylan blushes like I've never seen him blush before and he leans back in his chair, not looking me in the eye. My stomach drops, jumping to the worse possible thing, as I ask softly (or as softly as I can with my hands), "What did you say?"

"Nothing bad," Dylan reassures me but I'm still worried. "I just called you- I said B-A-B-Y." He spells out the word and suddenly I'm blushing so bad I'm afraid my cheeks will explode. Is that even possible? "Is that okay?" Dylan asks hurridly and I can't help the giant grin that spreads across my face.

Dylan kissing me is one thing. Dylan asking me on a date is another thing. Dylan asking me to be his boyfriend is an even bigger thing. But Dylan calling me baby? Something I remember my dad calling my mom and it making her giggle? Something that feels so intimate? It's on a whole different level.

"Say it again," I say, and I'm pretty sure I giggle. Dylan furrows his brow. "So I can see how your lips form the word," I explain, grinning like an idiot as I lean over the table a little bit. Dylan grins, saying it with his hands still in his lap, and I smile. "Again."

I make him say it possibly a thousand times before I can finally distinguish what it is he is saying, and I'm able to see the 'b' form and the way the rest of the word tumbles from his teeth. I feel like my cheeks are going to break I'm grinning so hard, and my stomach is full of intense butterflies, and Dylan just keeps saying it, the same grin on his face. I wonder how this makes him feel; if this is weird for him. But all I can think about is that Dylan has a name for me, a term of endearment, and it's making me feel like a little girl.

I reach across the table, my fingertips touching his lips as he says it again. "Baby." And this time I can feel the word against my skin, and for a split second, it's almost like I can hear it.

I pull my hand back, smiling sheepishly as I sign, "Sorry." Though by the way I smile it probably doesn't seem genuine.

Dylan chuckles, his shoulders shaking, before he takes my hand in his over the table and says, "Don't worry about it, baby."