I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. My first thought is of Sydney. My second thought is that I can’t believe I fell asleep on the couch in the middle of the afternoon.
I barely slept last night, though. Actually, I’ve barely slept for the entire past week. I was so anxious leading up to the show I had planned for Sydney last night, not knowing how she would react to it. And then after she reacted better than I ever imagined and we ended up at her place, I still couldn’t sleep because I couldn’t stop texting Brennan lyrics. He’s probably got enough material from last night alone to make three songs out of.
When I left Sydney’s apartment this morning, my plan was to come home and catch up on work, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything because I was so exhausted. I finally lay down on the couch and turned on Game of Thrones. I’m probably the last person to start the series, but Warren has been trying to get me to catch up to him for months. He’s on season three, and I made it through the first three episodes of season one today before I passed out.
I wonder if Sydney has watched it. If not, I’d much rather start it over and watch it with her.
I pick up my phone and have two unread texts from Warren, one from Maggie, one from Brennan, and one from Sydney. I go straight to Sydney’s text first.
Sydney: I listened to the song. It made me cry. It’s really good, Ridge. Ridge: I think you’re just partial because you’re in love with me.
She texts back immediately.
Sydney: Nope. I’d love the song even if I didn’t know you. Ridge: You’re not good for my ego. What time will you be here?
Sydney: On my way now. Will Warren and Bridgette be there? Ridge: Pretty sure they both work tonight.
Sydney: Perfect. See you soon.
I close out my texts to Sydney and open Warren’s text.
Warren: Brennan sent me the new song. I like it.
Ridge: Thanks. Started Game of Thrones today. I like it.
Warren: IT’S ABOUT DAMN TIME! Have you made it to the episode where they decapitate Stark in front of his daughters yet?
I press my phone to my chest and close my eyes. I hate him sometimes.
Like really hate him.
Ridge: You are a fucking asshole. Warren: Dude, it’s the best episode!
I toss my phone on the coffee table and stand up. I walk to the kitchen and
open the refrigerator to search for a way to get revenge on him. I hope Warren is kidding. Ned Stark? Really, George?
There’s a block of one of Bridgette’s fancy cheeses in the drawer. I pull it out and open the packaging. It’s some sort of white cheese with fancy pieces of spinach or something in it. Smells like shit, but it looks just like a bar of soap once the wrapping is removed. I take it to Warren’s bathroom, remove his bar of soap from the shower and replace it with the cheese.
Ned gets decapitated? I swear to God, if that actually happens, I’m throwing away my television.
When I walk back to the living room, my phone is lighting up on the coffee table. It’s a text from Sydney, telling me she just parked. I walk to the door and open it, then make my way down the stairs. She’s making her way up, and as soon as I see the smile on her face, it makes me forget all about the decapitation I’m praying is a just a terrible prank Warren is pulling on me.
We meet in the middle of the staircase. She laughs at my eagerness when I push her against the railing and kiss her.
God, I love her. I swear, I don’t know what I’d have done if she hadn’t
signed “when” last night. I’m sure I’d still be sitting on that stage, playing every sad song I could think of while I drank every last drop of alcohol in the bar.
But not only did the worst-case scenario not happen—the best-case scenario happened. She loved it and she loves me and here we are, together, about to spend a perfect boring night at my apartment doing nothing but eating takeout and watching television.
I pull away from her, and she reaches up to wipe lip gloss off my mouth. “Have you ever watched Game of Thrones?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “Do you want to?”
She nods. I grab her hand and walk up the stairs with her. When we get inside, she goes to use the bathroom and I pick up my phone. I open the unread text from Maggie.
Maggie: Yes! Found out yesterday. Got a 5.
Ridge: Why am I not surprised? Congratulations! Hope you’re doing something to celebrate.
Maggie: I did. Went skydiving today.
Skydiving? I hope she’s kidding. Skydiving is the last thing she should be doing. That can’t be good for her lungs. I start to respond to her, but I pause in the middle of my text. This is the one thing she disliked the most about me. My constant worrying. I have to stop stressing about her doing things that might make her situation worse. It’s her life and she deserves to live it however she wants.
I delete my response to her. When I look up from my phone, Sydney is standing at the refrigerator, watching me. “You okay?” she asks.
I stand up straight and slide my phone into my pocket. I don’t want to talk about Maggie right now, so I smile and save it for another day. “Come here,” I say to her.
She smiles and walks over to me, sliding her arms around my waist. I pull her to me. “How was your day?”
She grins. “Excellent. My boyfriend wrote me a song.”
I press my lips to her forehead, then hook my thumb beneath her chin, tilting her face up to mine. As soon as I start to kiss her, she grabs my shirt and starts walking backward toward my bedroom. We don’t break the kiss until she’s falling onto my bed and I’m climbing on top of her.
We kiss for several minutes with our clothes on, which I would rectify, but it’s nice. We didn’t really fall in love in a typical way, so we went from a kiss that filled us with weeks of guilt, to a three-month stretch of not
communicating at all, to a night of making up and making love. We were nothing at all and then suddenly all in. It’s nice taking it slow right now. I want to spend the rest of the night kissing her because I’ve thought about kissing her like this for three months straight.
She rolls me onto my back and then slides on top of me, breaking our kiss. Her hair is falling around her face, so she moves it out of the way by sliding it over her shoulder. She kisses me softly on the mouth and then sits up, straddling me so she can sign.
“Last night feels like…” She pauses, struggling to sign the rest, so she speaks it. “It feels like forever ago.”
I nod in agreement and then lift my hands to teach her how to sign the word “forever.” I say it out loud as she signs it. When she gets it right, I nod and sign, “Good job.”
She falls to my side and lifts up onto her elbow. “What’s the sign for the word deaf?”
I make the motion for the word, sliding my hand across my jaw and toward my mouth.
She drags her thumb from her ear to her chin. “Like that?”
I shake my head to let her know she got it wrong. I lift up onto my elbow, then take her hand to tuck in her thumb and straighten out her index finger. I press it to her ear and slide it over her jaw, toward her mouth. “Like that,” I tell her. She repeats the sign for deaf with perfection. It makes me smile. “Perfect.”
She falls back onto her pillow and smiles up at me. I love that she studied sign language for the three months we were apart. As mad as I am at Warren for ruining Game of Thrones for me, I’ll never be able to repay him for everything he’s done to help Sydney and me learn to communicate without so many barriers. He really is a good friend…when he isn’t being a complete asshole.
She’s picked up ASL so fast. Every time she signs something, I’m impressed all over again. It makes me want her to sign everything from now on, and it makes me want to voice all the words I ever say to her.
“My turn,” I say. “How do you make the sound a cat makes?”
There are so many words I still don’t understand, and animal sounds are a huge portion of that. Maybe I struggle with knowing how they should sound because it’s impossible to read lips when the sound is coming from a cat or a dog.
“You mean meow?” she asks.
I nod and press my fingers against her throat so I can feel her voice when she says it. She repeats the word, and then I give it my best attempt. “Me… oh?”
She shakes her head. “First part sounds like…” She signs the word me.
“Me?”
She nods. “Second part…” She lifts her hand to sign the letters Y, O, and W while saying them out loud again. I keep my palm pressed against her throat.
“Again,” I say.
She enunciates slowly. “Me…yow.”
I love the way her lips form a circle at the end of the sound. I bend down and kiss her before trying to speak the sound again. “Me…yow.”
She grins. “Better.”
I say it faster. “Meow.” “Perfect.”
I start to ask her why meow is used in certain instances, but I forget how new she is at signing, and her eyes grow big with her confusion as she tries to follow along with my hands. I lean over her and grab my phone and type out my question.
Ridge: Why is the word MEOW sometimes used to depict when something is sexy? Does the word make a sexy sound when it’s spoken?
She laughs and her cheeks blush a little when she says, “Very.” I find that interesting.
Ridge: Is it also sexy when a person barks like a dog?
She shakes her head. “No. Not at all.”
The verbal form of the English language is so confusing. But I love learning more about it from her. It’s the first thing that drew me to her beyond the physical attraction. Her patience with my inability to hear and her eagerness in wanting to know all about it. There aren’t a lot of people like her in this world, and every single time she signs for me, it reminds me how lucky I am.
I pull her closer and lean toward her ear. “Meow.” When I pull back, she’s no longer smiling. She’s looking at me like that was the sexiest thing she’s ever heard. She confirms my thoughts by sliding her fingers through my hair and pulling my mouth to hers. I roll on top of her and part her lips with my tongue. Just as I start to give her a deeper kiss, I feel the vibration of her moan, and then I’m a goner.
And so are our clothes. So much for taking it slow tonight.
