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Bodhi knew the hook-up home-sign Wren used whenever he talked about his dates was strictly for his one-night-stands. Bodhi couldn’t imagine going from person to person like that. It had taken him long enough to feel comfortable letting Caleb touch him at all, let alone intimately.
He wasn’t sure how the hell he’d deal with letting a total stranger get that close. Of course, he wasn’t like everyone else, but he was starting to realize that neither was Wren.
“Does it make you feel happy?”
“Hooking up?” Wren asked. Bodhi nodded, and he recognized the thoughtful look on Wren’s face as he contemplated the question. “I think so. It doesn’t make meunhappy and right now, that’s enough.”
Bodhi could understand that. That had been his existence for almost all of the time he’d spent away from his grandparents. At least, until the moment Caleb had put his arms around him and held him. And it had been tempered for a while with Caleb’s declaration that they couldn’t be more than just friends, but that had changed now.
Because Caleb was his boyfriend.
Caleb was fallingin lovewith him.
The beach had been the first day Caleb had so publicly and openly claimed him as a boyfriend, and there could no longer be any doubt in Bodhi’s mind that he was wanted.
“What are you thinking about?” Wren asked after waving his hand to get Bodhi’s attention.
He hadn’t realized he’d drifted, and he flushed. “Sorry. I was just—”
His words were interrupted by the sound of Luke’s frustrated growl. Even without his hearing aids, Bodhi could usually hear the quarterback-sized barista when he got frustrated. He was a loud signer as it was, and when he was pissed, he reminded Bodhi of a giant from the Jack and the Beanstalk story.
Wren moved faster than him, but Bodhi was quick on his heels, and they came to a halt when they saw Luke leaning over the counter. There was a man in front of him looking panicked, and Ananda trying to gently pull Luke back.
“What’s going on?” Wren demanded, stomping to get Luke’s attention.
He turned. “This asshole is telling me I’m signing wrong. What the fuck?”
Bodhi winced. Luke was generational Deaf, and he took any insult to his language personally. Which, as it seemed, was the man’s intent. Bodhi looked over at the guy who was frowning in confusion, his eyes daring back and forth between everyone. He very much looked like some rich CEO who’d gotten lost and wandered into the wrong shop.
Maybe he wanted tea from the boba place? It was hard to mistake all the ASL hand shapes and coffee beans emblazoned on the wall for boba tea, but stranger things had happened.
Bodhi walked to the counter and knocked his knuckles against it, then cleared his throat when he got the stranger’s attention. “Are you lost?”
The guy blinked at him, then said slow and far too exaggerated and loud, “You. Can. Speak?”
Bodhi rolled his eyes before he could stop himself and said aloud, “Yes. And you can stop that.”
The guy’s mouth shut so hard, Bodhi could see the click vibrate through his jaw. “Sorry,” he voiced.
Bodhi waved him off. “Are you lost?” he repeated.
The guy hesitated, but Wren and Ananda finally managed to wrangle Luke back into the kitchen, so Bodhi took his place to better understand the stranger. “I’m not lost.” He was still voicing a little too slow, but Bodhi could just barely hear the faint hint of an accent, and oddly, he read accented lips better. “I just want a coffee.”
Bodhi nodded and rang him up for a large without asking if that’s what he wanted. “Why were you insulting my friend?”
The guy’s cheeks bloomed bright pink. “I didn’t mean to. He was…to me…and it…confusing.” As he spoke, he ran his hand around his mouth like a nervous habit, and it ruined Bodhi’s grasp on the conversation.
Bodhi knocked his knuckles against the counter again. “I’m Deaf. Everyone in this shop is Deaf,” he voiced. “You can’t hide your mouth.”
The guy dropped his hand like it was on fire. “I’m so sorry.” English, Bodhi’s brain supplied. The man was English. “I know some sign language.”
Bodhi tried not to laugh. That phrase had definitely been on Wren’s bingo card. He lifted his hands. “Okay. Do you want milk or sugar in your coffee?” he signed.
The man’s face fell into something almost angry. “That,” he said aloud, pointing at Bodhi, then lifted his own hands and made a series of signs Bodhi didn’t recognize at all. Through inference, he could get a couple of them. But he definitely wasn’t using ASL. “That is not sign language.”
“Are you from the UK?” he asked aloud.
The guy nodded. “Yes. What does that matter?”
