Lips Made of Yarn

There was a weird kind of tension bouncing between Brendon and I. As we stood only a few feet apart at our respective cash registers, the whole left side of my body was buzzing with this buzzing feeling. I didn’t know exactly what it was from, but it unnerved me. Ever since the big unveiling of my learning sign language yesterday, Brendon was in a whole a happier person. I haven’t seen that cynical smirk of his in almost seven hours, only a pleasant grin and warm eyes.
‘Do you know what time it is?’ Brendon signed to me once he’d caught my attention, repeating the question for the fifth time today. I suspected he was just too lazy to tell the time on a wall clock.

I shook my head in amusement and glanced at the wall clock quickly, craning my neck to see around a customer’s obnoxiously large hat.

‘We close in fifteen minutes, if that’s what you’re asking.’ I replied, smiling. I was still signing very slowly and deliberately so I didn’t make a mistake, but Brendon had a surprising amount of patience.

‘Excellent.’ Brendon grinned.

“Excuse me,” The woman I was supposed to be helping snapped her fingers in front of my face, exasperated frown adorning her features.
“Yes? Can I help you?” I said darkly. I had this rule with myself: If a customer was rude to me, I was rude right back. I was never the one for philosophy that employees should always treat their customers with respect, even if they didn’t receive any to begin with.
“I’d like my black coffee now, if that’s not too much trouble,” She drawled sarcastically.
I rolled my eyes overdramatically so she would see and made her drink, taking as long as I possibly could.

At the exact moment the second hand of the clock completed it’s full circle fourteen minutes later I was finishing up my last order and ushering the last few stragglers out, unbuttoning my hideous green smock on the way.

Brendon smiled at me and together we walked into the back lounge, him staying behind me and propping the door open after he entered.
“Do you see my bag anywhere?” I said aloud, not really sure as to how I would sign that.
Brendon looked around, turning in a full circle as he did so before he saw my pocketbook half shoved under a chair and bent down to pick it up for me.

He stepped once and held out the bag, a serene and content look on his face. I smiled and took it from him, slinging it over my shoulder and biting my lip.

I hesitated at the door, coat on and ready to leave. Brendon was still taking off his uniform, so it would just look retarded if I tried to stall somehow, but I wanted to walk out with him. Should I just wait here by the door? Pretend to be tying my shoe, and then pop up when he’s ready? Any way I go about it, I think I’d look a little too desperate and very much like I was still fifteen years old.

Sighing and mumbling a goodbye, I tramped through the empty Starbucks and into the street, not enjoying the crisp night air like I usually would.
You would think I would have gotten my car fixed by now, or at least rented one so that I wouldn’t have to walk every day, but the problem is that Starbucks really doesn’t pay much at all, and more than half goes to just keeping my apartment alone. If only I could just formulate some type of storyline in my head, it doesn’t have to be good or anything, just something to get me writing again, then I could try and make it in literature.

Something encased around my arm unexpectedly and I yelped, reaching inside my jacket pocket for mace on instinct. I whirled around and held the little bottle up to my attackers face, finger poised over the release button.

“Brendon?” I breathed, heart pumping wildly inside me, as my arm fell a few inches.

He looked back at me, amused eyebrow raised, and dropped his grip on my arm.
‘Need a ride home?’ He signed, jerking his head to a silver car parked on the other side of the street. I bit my lip and shrugged, an armada of butterflies being release form my stomach to flitter around my body freely.

‘You scared me.’ I signed as I crossed the street next to him, not bothering to look both ways since the streets were pretty much deserted at this time.
‘Sorry, your face was-‘ The last word Brendon signed sparked no recollection in me and I frowned, trying to remember.
“What was that last thing you signed? Still learning.” I blushed, scratching my cheek.
‘Never mind, it’s okay,’ He smiled easily and I decided right there that I could really get used to that smile.

Brendon opened the passenger door for me and I got in after signing my thanks. The car ride was silent—of course it was going to be, Brendon had to keep his hand on the steering wheel—and it took me a while to notice. I must have just become accustomed to the long stretches of silent that surround him, because it didn’t bother me as much as I knew it would if I were with anyone else. If Brendon wasn’t sitting in that driver’s seat, hunched over slightly and concentrating hard, I would no doubt be trying to fill up the silence with talking about the first thing that came into my head. That was never a good thing.

I groaned inwardly when I noticed Brendon had turned down my block and was reaching my apartment solely by memory from the first time his mother had driven me home. I wanted to stay in this warm haven for as long as possible, stay with Brendon so there wouldn’t be a chance of me not being offered a ride home again. This was a big thing for me, the singular genuinely nice thing Brendon had done for me.

The immense smile Brendon gave me as I got out of his car burned itself into my eyes and remained at the forefront of my mind as I entered my apartment and head right for my computer, opening a new Word document and dusting off the keyboard.