Your Voice

“I am so freaking ready for break,” Chris says when he gets to the lunch table. I look up from my book, having just barely made out what his lips sighed but I got the gest. I smile slightly and nod my head in agreement; not because I hated school or Mr. Roberts, just because it meant a lot more time with Dylan. Who doesn’t want that?

Chris smiles over at me, pulling out his lunch and setting it on the table, glancing over from us. He turns to me and this time I’m paying closer attention as he speaks, using choppy hand motions as he pulls out all his food. “Why do we torture ourselves with sitting by girls every day? Their conversations are crappy.”

Gemma suddenly appears, making me jump a bit and I might have been embarrassed had Chris not jumped too. She says something that makes her boyfriend laugh, but I don’t quite catch what it is before she signs to me, “Aren’t you eating?”

I shake my head, holding up my book and smiling tightly. I guess the good thing about being deaf is that I can zone out and read in silence basically anywhere. Unfortunately that’s also kind of sad. I hadn’t read a good book in a while, but I’d actually found one in the young adult section of the library and fell in love within ten pages. I couldn’t stop for things like reading, especially when I wasn’t that hungry in the first place.

Gemma makes a face, and I imagine her running off to tell Dylan I wasn’t eating properly again so he could worry about me in that stupid way of his, but I don’t guess I could honestly be mad. It was almost Christmas, I was sure to eat way too much of my holiday meals.

I sigh to myself as Gemma and Chris sit close together and talk about couple-y things, Gemma’s friends across from the table talking about god knows what. I’d never cared much for their companionship anyway, which is quite rude of me to say but I just don’t care. So I look down at my book and continue to read.

It surprises me when my phone vibrates in my pants pocket, where I’d put it once I left for lunch. I mean, literally no one texts me except for Dylan and Gemma and on the rarest of occasions my mother. But it’s my boyfriend, and I can’t help smiling as I open up a text asking me to come over because he’s dying to see me and he needs to talk to me about something going on this weekend. I hope he’s planning a cute date. The last one we went on was our trip through London to The Eye, but even that was a few weeks back. Schools been getting busy for him, he’s been doing a lot of studying. Which I totally understand, I just wish his schedule wasn’t so hectic. But if he’s planning something for this weekend, it’ll make up for any lost time we’ve had the past few weeks.
~

Dylan gets home a touch later than usual, but I’ve been up reading. Honestly, if he hadn’t gotten home when he did I would’ve finished the book. I’ll just have to save it for tomorrow.

I grin once I see him round the corner, tugging on his tie like it’s an annoyance and running a hand through his stiff hair. He smiles once he sees me, heading straight for the couch and pressing his hands to the back above my shoulders, leaning forward to press his lips flush to mine. Hmm. How nice, I think. I arch up into it slightly, my hand dropping away from my book and cupping his cheek, pulling him closer to me. It feels like it’s been months and months compared to just the few days.

“Good evening,” Dylan says, pulling back from me with a wide grin, and I imagine our lips make a smacking sound. “How was your day?” He signs, standing up from me and settling beside me instead, one of his hands signing while the other reaches down to squeeze my thigh.

I’m sure I blush. “Long!” I sign, exasperated, and Dylan quirks a brow at me curiously. I grab my book, showing it to him. “All I wanted to do was read this, but I wasn’t able to! Only during breaks and at lunch. It’s been driving me crazy.”

Dylan laughs, so I assume, and reads the back of the book curiously, nodding his head in approval. “Seems a bit…” he hesitates, either searching for the right words or sign. “Immature for you.”

I shrug, grabbing the book and slipping my marker in, shutting it and holding it close to my chest. I sign lazily with one hand, knowing Dylan would understand. “Just because it is considered children’s literature doesn’t make it any less amazing. Think about The Giver.” I say.

Dylan nods, understanding. I knew he liked literature took, and I considered The Giver to be a true work of literature.*

“Well, I’m starving,” Dylan says, smiling as he stands up and helps me up too, moving to entwine our fingers and walk me to the kitchen. I smile happily, setting my book aside. No matter how bad I am itching to read it, Dylan is more important. We had maybe an hour together before we slept. I needed to take advantage of it.

I nod my head slightly, agreeing. I hadn’t eaten much, too preoccupied with reading, so I hoped Dylan didn’t mind sharing. If it’s with me, I doubt he will. As he starts to heat the dinner Gemma made earlier, I step up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. I nuzzle my head against his shoulder blade, wishing he didn’t have a top on so I could feel his skin. I squeeze his waist tightly, rubbing my hands up and down his smooth stomach. I’m kind of glad he doesn’t have rock hard abs or anything. I liked a softer Dylan.

Dylan pulls back from me and I assume our food is ready, so I let him go and pour us two glasses of water. I set them at the table, grinning widely when Dylan puts his plate of food in front of me and then takes the open seat to my left, lifting one of the two forks and stabbing into his meat. I swear, he knows me too well.

We eat in silence for a minute or two, before I set my fork down and sip at the water. Lifting my hands, Dylan’s dark eyes stray over to me as I start to sign, “What is it you wanted to talk about for this weekend?”

Dylan makes a face, reaching for a napkin to wipe at his lip. He sits back, and I watch him with weary eyes. Should I suddenly be afraid? “So…” he says, then lifts his hands to sign also. “My work is having a holiday party this weekend… We don’t have to go, I was just wondering if you wanted to.”

I blink, staring at him. He wants to take me to work? Not just work, but a party where other people’s wives and stuff will be. I mean, I’ll definitely be the youngest person there! I’m only sixteen! That’s crazy. Dylan cannot want to show me off to the older people he works with.

But… His face says otherwise. I force a smile and nod my head, and because Dylan looks skeptical I lean forward and peck his lips. “It sounds fun,” I sign. “It really does Dylan. I would love to meet your boss and everyone too.”

Dylan gives me a relieved smile, leaning forward to press a kiss to my temple that leaves my cheeks warm. He squeezes my thigh tightly, saying, “Awesome,” before he signs, “That’s great, baby. I’m excited to go. You should wear maybe your slacks and a nice sweater or something, that would look good. I’ll probably be in a tie,” he rolls his eyes, and I giggle to myself as he keeps rambling. Clearly, saying yes was a good thing.

And… Am I crazy, or did this feel like a bigger step in our relationship?