Page 193

‘Hi. Can I get you something to drink?’ the server signs in perfect ASL.

It’s only then I notice a blinking light behind a lock of his hair, and I realize the server’s got cochlear implants on both sides. It makes sense why Mellie picked this place, of course.

He’s casting me a knowing smile now.

‘Water to start,’ I say. The server nods and turns away, and I raise a brow at Mellie. ‘I know not all Deaf people are friends, but do you know our server?’

‘My cousin,’ Mellie signs with a shrug. ‘I wanted to eat here tonight in case it goes bad so I have backup.’

I can’t help a small laugh. ‘Okay.’

‘Don’t worry. If I act like an asshole, he’ll take your side,’ Mellie promises me.

The server returns with a tiny smirk, and he ignores Mellie by putting his back to him, and he smiles widely at me. His expression is a little sultry, and it might have worked if I hadn’t already fallen for the indignant man sitting in front of me.

‘I’m Fern.’ He spells his name, and then he gives his name sign, which is a non-initialized sign for plant, and he signs it short and quick. It’s not the most convenient name sign, so my guess is it’s very important to his personality.

‘Rhett,’ I tell him, then offer him my name sign that Robbie’s given me. I have more than one, depending on what group I’m hanging out with, but my work name seems safer.

His smile widens, and then he laughs when Mellie reaches over and physically shoves him away from the table. ‘We need a minute.’

Fern winks, then walks off, and Mellie huffs with his arms crossed. I give him a beat before he relaxes, but his gaze is fiery. ‘Don’t flirt with him.’

‘I’m not interested in him. He’s not my type. I like strawberry blonds with attitude problems and wasp stings on their neck.’

His eyes flare wide, and then he flushes and glances away for a second. ‘I feel bad about today.’

‘What? Why?’

‘I took advantage of you and?—’

‘No.’ I stop him with a quick snap of my fingers. ‘I know you didn’t like me from the beginning, but I think you’re very hot, and I wanted that. It was good.’

He swallows heavily. ‘Too many servers here know ASL.’

Ah. So we don’t get a private conversation in public. Fair enough. ‘We can talk about it later.’

Mellie relaxes a fraction. ‘I want to do this right.’

I frown at him, confused.

‘Date,’ he signs. ‘I want to date. To get to know you. Your favorite color. Favorite food. Favorite animal.’

I can’t help a small laugh, and I lean slightly closer to the table. ‘Blue,’ I say and look pointedly at his eyes. His ears go pink. ‘Mushroom burger,’ I add. His blush deepens. ‘And I used to love cats the most, but a friend of mine recently got into raising button quail’—I spell the name—‘and he’s been sending me videos from his new farm.’

‘You know a farmer?’ he asks.

I snort. Salem is definitely not a farmer. At least, not yet. He and I used to work for the same interpreting agency, but before this college job came up, he burned out and ran screaming into the night. So to speak. A few months after he quit, he inherited his grandfather’s old house, complete with a field of vegetables, four goats, one mini cow, and flocks of silkie chickens.

He’s all but leaned in now, and he’s moved on to button quail. What a life.

‘He’s working on it. He and I used to work together, but interpreting was too much for him.’

He raises a brow, and I wonder if he’s going to challenge me because I know several Deaf people who take offense to interpreters complaining about the job. And I understand why. It’s a symbiotic relationship, but we can just quit and find a new career. They can’t quit being Deaf and needing access.

Mellie doesn’t seem bothered though, which is a surprise, considering his reaction toward me when we first met. ‘What did you do together? College?’

‘Before college. We worked at an agency. It was the worst,’ I confess. He gestures for me to go on. ‘It was a lot of concerts and doctor appointments,’ I tell him. ‘But we lived in Seattle, so it was also a lot of shows. Comedy, plays, burlesque,’ I tell him.