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“With a body like this?” I pat at my chiseled abs; I’ve worked hard for this. “I’m not wearing shirts unless it is necessary.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m learning ASL to better communicate with Spencer.”
“Really?” he asks with genuine surprise in his voice. “That’s… actually pretty awesome, brother.”
“Thanks,” I reply, feeling a surge of pride at his words. I know that in order to win Spencer’s trust, I need to transform myself—no more being the party-loving womanizer. It’s time to grow and change for the better.
“Keep at it, Percival,” I whisper to myself, my heart swelling with anticipation for the day when I can finally bridge the communication gap with Spencer. “You ready for some In-N-Out? We gotta celebrate your freedom, SoCal style.”
“Man, I’ve been dreaming about a Double-Double with Animal Style fries since I woke up in that hospital bed,” I reply, my mouth watering at the thought.
“Spoken like a true Californian.”
This isn’t a social visit. My brother came to check on me. To see how I’m doing. Since the very moment the doctor gave me the green light to leave the hospital, Morgan and Lance were adamant about taking care of me. But there was—and there is—no need for them to do that. The little boy who needed his siblings all the time grew up, and I’m determined to not be a nuisance to anyone.
~~~
I sit on the edge of my bed, still reeling from the realization that I may have come on too strong with Spencer. My fingers fumble with the ASL learning materials I printed out earlier across the duvet and an open laptop all serving as reminders of my decision.
“Maybe I should give her some space,” I admit aloud, my voice echoing in the dimly lit room.
As if on cue, the setting sun casts a warm golden glow through the window, painting the walls with streaks of tangerine and russet. The sight brings me back to the first time I met Spencer, her green eyes shimmering like emeralds in the alley’s dimmed lights. My chest swells with emotion as I remember how she saved me, despite not knowing who I was.
“Damn it, Percival,” I mutter, swallowing hard. “You’ve got to do better.”
My gaze falls on the ASL alphabet chart with each hand shape representing a letter and another opportunity to understand Spencer’s world. In this moment, I make a decision—a decision born from the undeniable connection we share and the faith that she will eventually come around.
“Alright,” I say with determination, standing up and clenching my fists. “She’s like a butterfly. I need to give her some time and space. Here’s to hope,” I murmur, the words hanging in the air like a promise waiting to be fulfilled.
Chapter Eight
Spencer
Sunlightfiltersthroughthedusty windows of my workshop as I sit on a wooden stool, sandpaper in hand, working on the antique dresser I found last week. My leggings and sweatshirt are covered in sawdust, and the tendrils of my unruly hair have escaped from my messy bun. The old wood comes alive under my fingertips, revealing its intricate patterns and telling the story of a time long past.
But the thought of stepping into the unknown sends a shudder down my spine. My cautious nature kicks in, and I start to weigh the pros and cons of accepting Percival’s offer. On one hand, it could be an incredible opportunity to explore my passion for art and perhaps even transform my life. On the other hand, it means leaving behind the stability I’ve worked so hard to achieve.
As I continue to work, my thoughts drift to Percival and his words when we last met. His charm, that disarming smile, and his shirtless confidence have been lingering in my mind, playing like a movie reel on repeat. I wonder what it would be like to go out with him—to step out of my quiet world and embrace the unknown.
Let me do this for you,he had said, his eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and mischief.
Is it really worth the risk?I muse, pausing my work for a moment. It’s not like me to get swept up in fantasies, especially with someone like Percival. But then again, something about him that makes me feel alive—a spark of excitement that I haven’t felt in years.
I picture him in my mind’s eye: those broad shoulders, his eyes crinkling when he smiles, and the warmth of his laughter. It’s hard to deny that he’s attractive, even if he does have a reputation for being a party-loving womanizer. But beneath that exterior, I’ve glimpsed a heart of gold; a loyalty to the people he cares about that can’t be faked.
“Maybe,” I whisper, my fingers resuming their rhythmic dance across the dresser’s surface, “maybe it’s time to take a leap of faith.”
For the first time in my life, I find myself yearning for something more than the monotonous safety of my daily routine. The prospect of an adventure with Percival, as terrifying as it may be, stirs a newfound curiosity within me. And, perhaps, that’s exactly what I need.
“Spence!” I look up just in time to see her wild, curly hair bouncing as she skips towards me. She stops right outside the workshop, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You’ll never guess what happened!”
“Hey, Gia,” I say, setting aside the sandpaper and wiping the sweat from my brow. “What’s up?”
“Okay, so your aunt told me what happened with Percival earlier, and she told me about this amazing offer he made you,” she says, her face flushed with enthusiasm. “He wants to take you on an adventure! You know, something out of your comfort zone. Surfing is a good start.”
I sigh, glancing back at the half-finished dresser. “Yeah, he did mention something about that.”
