Holding Her Hand (Reed Brothers Book 15) (5 page)

I lean toward her a little like I’m imparting a secret. “
Now about the fucking
…” I toss my hands up in question, leaving it open for her.

“
Well, we don
’
t have to worry about that since
you don
’
t fuck hearing girls
.” She stares hard at me, and this time it’s me who blushes.

“
I didn
’
t say I don
’
t like hearing girls. I just couldn
’
t take one home to meet my parents
.” I must be the biggest dick on the face of the planet after that comment. But she’s not angry. She leans back against the seat cushion and just stares at me.

“
You
’
ve had sex with hearing girls
?” she asks. Her eyes
search my face, like she’s looking for the smallest hint of a lie.

“
Never had an opportunity
,” I admit. “
My circle has been pretty small
.”

She takes a sip of her water. “
Tell me about your circle. Where did you go to school
?”

I name a school for the deaf upstate.

“
You lived there all the time
?”

I nod. “
Except for holidays and weeks off
.”

“
Did you ever get lonely
?” she asks.

I shake my head.
“
Never. Too many people around
.”

“
Then you went to NYU
?”

I nod. “
How did you know that
?”

She smiles. “
I might have asked Logan
.”

“
I met Logan at NYU. It was refreshing to meet someone who was deaf at such a big school
.”

“
I bet it was. Why didn
’
t you go to a deaf college
?”

“
I got a scholarship at NYU to study art
.”

“
You said your circle was small
,” she reminds me. “
If you were at NYU, your
circle was huge
.”

“
No, the school was huge, and so was the
student population. But the deaf population was tiny
.”

The waitress comes back and I assume she asks what we want, because Lark orders and then the waitress looks at me. I point to what I want on the menu, and she writes it down. She asks Lark something and Lark looks at me. “
You want some wine
?” she asks me.

I shake my head.

Lark
tells her no and she walks away.

“
You don
’
t drink
?” Lark asks me.

“
Not when I
’
m on a first date
.”

She smiles at me and my heart skips double time. “
Is this a date
?”

I stare into her eyes. “
This is a date
.”

She lays a hand on her chest and pretends to be startled. “
But I
’
m a hearing girl
!”

“
I know, right? Crazy, isn
’
t it? Just don
’
t tell my mother
.”

A man in a suit approaches the table and
speaks to Lark. She looks around, and realizes that the number of people interested in her being here has grown.

“
Who was that
?” I ask.

She reaches for her purse. “
My security guard
.”

“
I didn
’
t know you had anyone with you
.”

She shrugs. “
It
’
s kind of his job to stay in the shadows. We need to leave, though
,” she says.

“
Why
?”

“
Too many people know I
’
m here
.”

Phones are snapping pictures
like crazy. The waitress hurries to our table and drops off a couple of bags.

“
Mark asked for them to change our order to take
-
out. Is that okay
?”

I get to my feet and pick up the bags.

“
Is it okay with you if we take it to my apartment
?”

I nod, toss an amount of cash I think will cover the bill onto the table, and follow her to the door. Her security guard speaks into a Bluetooth gadget on
his ear, and a car pulls up in front of the restaurant. She nods toward it. “
It
’
s for us
.”

We get in, she settles down beside me, and lets out a heavy breath. I can feel it stir the air on my arm. “
Is your life always like this
?” I ask.

She nods. “
Most of the time
.” Her face falls. “
I
’
m really sorry
.”

“
It
’
s okay. I understand
.” This happens when I go out with the Reeds too. They’re like royalty.

The car stops at her apartment building, and we go up in the really fancy elevator to the even fancier hallway. “S-W-A-N-K-Y,” I spell out on my fingers.

“E-M-P-T-Y,” she spells back.

She motions for me to set the bags on the kitchen counter and she takes out plates, then starts to transfer the food over. “
I know it
’
s not as nice as the restaurant
,” she says.

“
Better
,” I say. I smile at her.
“
Where
’
s your family
?”

“
They
’
re all with their boyfriends and husbands. It
’
s just me here
.” She shrugs and her mouth twists. But then she grins. “
But I do have your baseball cap to keep me company
.”

I look around. “
Where is it
?”

“
It
’
s on my bed. I
’
ll get it for you before you leave
.”

She motions for me to bring my plate and walk into the living room. She sits down on the couch and motions
for me to sit next to her. She sets her plate on the coffee table and then pulls the table closer to us. I set my plate beside hers.

“
We need drinks
,” she says. She hops up and goes to get two sodas. “
This okay
?”

I nod. “
Perfect
.”

We sit quietly and eat and the food is really good.

She accidentally drops a dollop of sauce on her glove and rubs it away.

“
Why don
’
t you take those off
?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “
It
’
s okay
.”

I take her hand in mine and reach for her elbow. Her eyes close and I can feel her deep breaths lift the hairs on my neck. I arch my brow in question as I reach to roll down the edge of her glove.

She nods. “
I can do it, though
.”

I don’t stop. I scrunch it up in my hands until I can pull the fingers and slide it all the way off. Her hand trembles in mine.

“
Are you all right
?” I ask.

She nods. “
I
’
ve just never
…” She stops signing. “Never mind.”

“
Never what
?” I ask.

“
Never…shown…anyone
.” She holds her chin tight and stares me down. “
Until you
.”

I reach for her other glove and do the same to it. She keeps her lower arm turned away from me, but then she tips it and I can see the slashes on that arm.

“
Both arms
?” I look at her face.

“
Yes
.”

“
Same
time
?” I watch her eyes. They stare into mine.

“
Yes
.”

“
Why
?”

“
Guilt
.”

“
Did you ever do it after that
?”

She smiles softly. “
No. Emilio taught me to play piano
.”

“
Emilio
?”

“
My adoptive dad. He and Marta adopted me when I was twelve
.”

“
When your parents died, there was no other family to take you
?”

She shakes her head. “
No
.” She looks at me shyly. “
Do you feel
…
differently about me
…
after
seeing the
scars?”

“
Yes
,” I admit.

Her face falls.

“
No, not like that. It makes me admire you
.”

“
Because I tried to kill myself?
” Her eyes narrow.

“
No. Because you survived it
.”

She pulls her legs up onto the couch and turns to face me, her plate forgotten.

“
I see scars every day
,” I tell her. “
It’s kind of my specialty. And I understand why people want to cover them up. I really do. But
sometimes I wish they would leave them.
”

“
Why?
” Her face is tight and almost angry.

“
Because scars mean you healed. You went through a trauma and your body healed. Scars mean you came out the other side. You survived
.”

Her face softens.

“
But I can also understand the need to cover them. That
’
s why I try to make beautiful art that means something, to cover them up
.” I hold up my hands like
I’m surrendering. “
That
’
s all I meant. I promise
.”

“
I survived
,” she signs.

I smile at her. “
Yes, you did
.”

Suddenly she leans over toward me, and her mouth hovers a breath from mine. I don’t even take time to think about it. I kiss her. I kiss her hard, just like I have wanted to do since I met her.

She tastes like garlic and want.

She tastes like all the things I can’t have. But for some
stupid reason, I’m taking them anyway.

Lark

Oh, God. His lips are on mine and his hand gently cups my neck, holding me close to him, his thumb swiping down the tender tendon at the front of my throat in gentle passes, the tips of his fingers sweeping behind my ear.

He pulls back, lifting his mouth from mine long enough to look into my eyes, asking me silently if this is okay. I nod my head and lean back over to kiss him again.
He pulls me into his lap and I go willingly, sinking into him. He pulls back again and says with his voice, “Too fast?” The words are soft and unwieldy, but I understand him.

“Not too fast,” I say. I kiss him again, but he’s already pulling back.

“No,” he says. “Too fast for me.” He points to his chest. His breaths are heaving from him, and I can feel the ridge of his dick pressing against my
bottom. He’s hard. He’s turned on. I know he is.

But I scurry back to my side of the couch. “
I
’
m so sorry
,” I say.

“
Wait
,” he says. He reaches for me. “
Don
’
t go
.”

But I pull so far back that he can’t reach me, and then I get to my feet. My legs feel like rubber, and shame floods my face with heat. I go to the kitchen and pretend to rummage in the refrigerator, but I’m not looking for anything
in particular. I surface with a jar of jelly and nothing else. He walks into the kitchen behind me, subtly adjusting himself.