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Lark McCapSnatcher: I’ll see you at 1 at the library.
Me: Don’t wear bad shoes.
Lark McCapSnatcher: I don’t own any bad shoes. And I’m officially offended.
Me: Talking about my dick didn’t offend you but talking about your shoes does?
Lark McCapSnatcher: Shoes are sacred.
Me: So is my dick.
Lark McCapSnatcher: Prove it.
I swipe a hand across my mouth, trying to wipe away the silly grin I know is plastered across it.
Logan sits down across from me. “You’ve been laughing at your phone for the last five minutes.”
I hold it up. “L-A-R-K,” I tell him.
He nods. “You going to let the hearing thing stand between you?”
I shake my head. “No.”
He grins. “Good.”
Me: I want another date with you.
Lark McCapSnatcher: I’ll think about it.
Me: See you at 1.
Lark McCapSnatcher: See you then!
Lark
He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt, and he’s the most handsome man standing in front of the library. He’s with a small group of people signing, and I hesitate to interrupt. After a minute or two, he sees me and motions me over. He’s smiling, and his friends look curious.
“This is my friend Lark,” he signs. “I invited her to join us.” He introduces his friends really quickly. Then he stops next to a man who looks a lot like him, but he’s a little stockier and his hair is darker. “This is my brother Mick.”
I stick out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.” He doesn’t sign it. He says it. I look at Ryan. I thought everyone in his family was deaf.
“He’s the oddball who can hear,” Ryan says. “But our parents kept him anyway.”
I must still look confused.
“He’s just jealous because I can hear the pretty girls whistle at me.” Mick smiles and looks at me like I have two heads. Or four boobs. Or something else he can’t quite figure out. “You look shocked,” he says.
“A little, actually.” We walk as a group into the library.
“Not nearly as shocked as I am,” Mick says quietly so that only I can hear. “I’ve never seen him with a hearing girl. Speaking of which, don’t find yourself alone in a corner with any of them. I’m not sure they like you.” He nods toward the girls, who don’t look that happy to see me.
“I’ll be right back,” Ryan says to me and he walks over to talk with a person behind the circulation desk.
“So, what do you do for a living, Lark?” Mick asks.
I grin. He doesn’t know who I am. “I’m a musician.”
