Lips Made of Yarn

“I think it’s time for you two to take it to the next level.”
I frowned against the phone pressed to my cheek, “Ashley, do we need to go through this again?”
“I’m just saying!” She was quick to defend herself, voice pitching an octave. “I think it would be a good idea if you stepped out of your comfort zone and asked him out or something.”
“Yeah, okay,” I snorted, rolling my eyes. I balanced the phone between my shoulder and cheek in order to push a strand of hair out of my face. “I should never have even told you I had feelings for him.”
“But Mel,” She whined. “You learned sign language for him! That seriously has to be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard of. And now you say he’s all nice and polite to you.”
“Well, yeah—"
“So make a move.”

I groaned. She defiantly had a point, and the whole knowledge of Ashley being the boy expert was the reason I had even called her in the first place. Maybe she knew what was going on in Brendon’s head, or could make somewhat of an experienced guess.
“I don’t know.”

“Well, at least it’s an improvement from a definite ‘no’. I like to think I have real influence on you,” She said smugly and I scoffed, saying a quick goodbye before walking into the permanently coffee bean smelling restaurant I call work.

Brendon greeted me with a cheery sign and we worked silently side-by-side. I liked how our relationship was comfortable and un-stressful, how we could work and turn to sign to each other during lulls in the shop. I was getting better at signing, but still found myself having to say a word or two out loud before resuming my hand gestures. Brendon always chuckled when I did this.

But the more I looked at him, the more I wanted things between us to progress. Now would probably be the best time, before I could screw this up and throw Brendon back into hating me. I was known to do things like that without meaning to, and it was only a matter of time now. But a desperate part of my brain was pleading for me to make a move before I could drive him away.

Going out to dinner would be stupid, how could he sign if he was busy with a fork and knife? A movie, perhaps? Maybe something active, like bowling? I considered any and everything I could think of as I worked, my mind not in making the correct beverages and I’m pretty sure I accidentally put a pinch of lemon juice in a man’s black coffee.

Midday there was hardly anyone coming in for coffee, so it was more or less a two hour break with a few customers here and there.
Brendon leaned against the counter and took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes before popping them back on and giving me a tired smile. My heart fluttered when I grinned back and suddenly I couldn’t help it, I wanted to get the question out of me.

“Do you want to hang out tonight?”

The smile flew off of Brendon’s face and his back snapped so he was standing perfectly straight. I couldn’t concentrate on anything but him and the thumping, about-to-be-rejected heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Brendon’s face looked absolutely horrified, not excited or even blasé like I was hoping for. Just completely terrified of the words that had just escaped my mouth. His hands were shaking as he signed ‘Excuse me?’

I almost felt like pleading with him to not make me repeat it again. Instead I opened my quivering jaw, emotions running wild and heart shattering because now there was no way he could accept my offer. I was wrong. Ashley was wrong. He didn’t like me. What the hell was I thinking, who could like someone like me?

“I s-said, do you want to come over and hang out tonight? Like, I don’t k-know, come to my apartment or something.”

Brendon’s jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed in suspicion, as if he didn’t believe that someone was actually asking him this question. Slowly, a bright red blush crept up his neck and overtook his face, wrapping around his plush, pursed lips.
I felt like taking it all back, going back in time and clonking myself in the head before such horrid words could escape me.

‘Why?’ Brendon signed back, hands quivering even more as he ran one through his hair and blinked rapidly. ‘Is this some joke? Are you making fun of me?’

“W-What? No! Of course not,” I stuttered, too insecure to try and communicate via sign language. “I want you to come.”

Brendon was frozen for a few seconds, eyes calculating over every inch of my face with scrutinizing force, making me wince and withdraw into myself.

‘Like a—‘ Brendon cut himself off, exhaling loudly as he blushed even deeper. ‘Like a date?’

Now it was my turn to blush deeply, debating with myself. I could just say no. Think of how much easier it would be. But then again, that would be defeating the whole purpose of putting myself through this. So I swallowed hard and forced the words from my lips. “Yes.”

Brendon jaw went slack and he stumbled backwards a few paces, shock ringing through his features. He rubbed his face aggressively and glanced at me as if to see if I was still there before taking off his glasses and pressing his fingertips into his eyes. I watched in silent agony, not liking at all the way he was stalling to agree or disagree with the date concept.

Finally, Brendon pushed his glasses back on and breathed deeply, shaking his head in slow disbelief. ‘No one’s ever asked me on a date before.’

I smiled unsteadily and bit my lip to try and hide it. “Be at my apartment by seven.”