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He taps a finger on the cell screen and then points at me.
I sigh. He wants me to say something. Of course, he does!
I delete his message and start to type, my fingers racing on the screen.
I feel a little thrill at the fact that I’m using his phone and mentally scold myself for acting like a teenager gone crazy from dealing with her first crush.
I give him his phone back after going over the text a few times with my eyes to make sure I’m not going to make too much of a fool out of myself with what I said.
“I don’t know if I can explain properly, but I’ll try. Please don’t feel like I didn’t appreciate your kindness in apologizing to me. You didn’t have to do anything about it. Heck, you could have complained about me being where I shouldn’t have been and gotten me fired if you wanted to. It’s really nice of you that you felt bad for startling me and wanted to say sorry. I’m the one who saw more than I should have in the gesture.”
I give the iPhone back to Carson, and as he reads, he frowns and shakes his head, his fingers immediately starting to work on his reply.
“What do you mean you saw more than you should have in my apology? I think you saw exactly what I wanted you to see in it, Mia. I was being pretty obvious.”
My eyes widen at what he’s implying. I feel my face burning up as I type my response, trying to steer the conversation back to safer grounds. Maybe I'm being stubborn by keeping on stressing the whole deaf aspect, but it sure beats focusing on what he meant just now.
“But you said you felt bad for not realizing sooner that I was deaf. That's what you were apologizing for. That's why you wanted to come talk to me, right? That's why you are here even now. You feel sorry that I'm deaf, and you shouted at me.”
Carson’s brow wrinkles as he reads, his eyes narrowing, his mouth twisting to the side. One hand scratching the dark beard covering his jaw. He is a bit frustrated with me, I guess because I’m dragging my feet.
He types for so long, and so fast I start to get worried, then, finally, his phone is back in my hand.
“Well, yes, sure! But it’s not the only reason I’m here, believe me. I mean, for one thing, I would have apologized to you even if you had heard me loud and clear when I shouted for you to get out of there. Say you were wearing headphones or were just distracted or whatever. I would have apologized for being a rude ass to any person, man, or woman I was impolite to. I hate that people around me could think I'm one of those jerks that think they can treat people like crap just because they're famous. And yes, I felt like shit when it dawned on me that you really could not hear me. I was gutted. You couldn't have gotten that because your back was to me, but I actually screamed at you, asking if you were deaf or something. And that was a total dick move because you really are! It's like this… you walk down the street, and there's a person blocking your way, and you spit out an 'Are you fucking blind, move it along?!' only to realize that person is really fucking blind. Wouldn't you feel mortified? What's wrong with that? Why is it offensive to you?”
Well, damn!
Never thought of this issue from this perspective before. He is making a lot of sense, actually. I need to be honest with him about how I feel. Or as honest as I can be. It’s not like I’m going to admit to him that I’ve got a crush on him. I’m not that stupid. This guy is sharp. I made that oblique statement about how I saw more in the apology he made than I should have, and it took him two seconds to guess my speech had a romantic inclination and to run with it. I need to tread carefully here.
I sigh and start writing.
“I guess it’s because I’m defensive about this, I try not to be, but it’s difficult for me. So, my mind immediately went the pity route. But I can see your point now. Put it like you just did, it's not offensive. I can totally understand what you mean, and I would definitely feel like you said if I was in those particular shoes and happened to be in the situation you described…”
He reads my answer and nods along, then starts to furiously type again.
Man, this boy can text!
Before I know it, his cell is back in my hands.
“And there’s more. Just so that there are no further misunderstandings, Mia. Under normal circumstances, I would have just stopped the person I offended for a sec and said I was sorry for being an ass, and that would have been it. Or if it turned out it was too difficult to locate that person, then I would have written them an apology on a card and stuck it in an envelope along with a hefty compensation tip, and I would have left it with the concierge for them. No way I would have spent the best part of my day stalking every poor bastard in a hotel uniform I could meet in a six-mile radius to get them to tell me your name and when you were going to be in again.”
My eyes widen. Oh boy. I turn to the screen again and type:
“Why are you telling me this?”
I show him the screen so he can read, and then I give the phone back.
“Because you need to understand why I’m standing here right now, Mia! My apology was sincere yesterday, and I still mean every word today, but it’s also true that I can’t get you out of my mind. Had our first meeting been nothing but polite, I would have still racked my brain to find you. I would have used any and every excuse to talk to you, baby.”
I gulp. Wait. Is he saying that he like…likesme?Reallylikes me? And‘baby’?!
Oh man… why did he have to go and call me ‘baby’? I'm a sucker for terms of endearment!
I don’t know what to say to this. My reply is typed fast by fingers that I can’t really feel anymore.
“Are you serious?”
He gives me a smoldering look to end all smoldering looks and then types back:
