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The teacher walks us out of the room and Dare puts his hand on the small of my back. I jerk away from him, and I sense—rather than see—his eyes burrow questioningly into me.
Lunch is almost over because the hallway is packed with kids. I don’t see Talia anywhere, and I wonder if I’ll get a chance to chat with her before we leave.
A streak of purple and white streams down the hallway. I have two seconds max to brace myself for a collision before a child barrels into my body. She fits perfectly into my arms and smells like Deej’s favorite jasmine lotion.
“Niko!” I sign. Looking at her adorable face, joy breathes life back into my withering smile and all my anxieties melt away.
“Yaya.” Her little fingers move sprightly and confidently.
Niko was born deaf while I was partially hearing for most of my childhood. Since ASL is her primary language, Niko is far more fluent than I am.
“What are you doing here?” Her almond-shaped eyes, so much like her father’s, shift to Dare. “Is that your boyfriend?”
I glance behind me and notice Dare watching the both of us with an amused little smile.
Humph.
He shouldn’t be smiling like that. I’m still not happy with him.
Dare takes one knee so he’s at Niko’s eye level. He signs a hello and asks her name.
“I’m Niko. Are you dating my aunt?”
“I am,” Dare answers.
“Cool.” Niko grabs his shoulder with one hand and signs with the other. Her expression turns severe and she reminds me of her cold, ruthless father when she threatens, “Be nice to her or I’ll tell my dad on you.”
Dare nods gravely. It’s clear he’s humoring her, but his choice not to laugh at her threat speaks volumes about his ability to be considerate.
Niko glances at the teacher standing behind us and her eyes brighten again. She signs, “Hi, Miss Abbot!”
Miss Abbot signs back clumsily.
I grin. “You know sign?”
“Little. Art class. Niko student.”
Seeing that atrocious grammar, I realize I’ve been judging Dare’s ASL harshly.
My hearing aids pick up a piercing sound. Niko glances up when she sees all her classmates rushing toward their classrooms.
She signs to me, “Gotta go.”
“Have a great day, Picasso.”
She rolls her eyes at our inside joke, waves to Dare, and scurries off with Miss Abbot. Her interpreter, a tall, thin, older woman with a pleasant smile, trails them.
It’s just me, Dare, Mosely and Jenny in the hallway now.
I fix my frown back into place before looking at Dare. “If we’re done here, I have things to do.”
That’s not a lie. I need to edit my pictures for social media and thumb through the casting calls my agency sent. Thanks to all the publicity surrounding my relationship with Dare, I’m no longer invisible. I’m getting offers from some huge and exciting fashion brands. I plan on sitting down with Henry to choose the brands that best fit the vision for our future fashion empire.
Dare catches up to me in three easy steps. He raises both arms in a show of surrender and then, as if he remembers he needs those hands to sign, he drops them.
“Let me give you a ride.”
“Unnecessary.”
