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He tries to soften the scolding because his eyes droop. His hands flag his chest.Break my heart?Is that what he’s saying? It’s close enough to the sign I would use.
The song in the banquet hall changes. The vibrations are thicker, deeper and more chaotic. I love music with a lot of bass, and I wish I could dance instead of endure… whateverthisis right now. It’s so uncomfortable.
The guy takes my lack of response personally. His angry body language matches his angry expression.
A waste of a pretty face.
He’s tall, muscular. A typical gym bro from the way he’s wearing a workout shirt under his blazer. Some girls would be flattered. Most would admit he’s not bad to look at.
Unfortunately for him, I work in an industry where beingnot bad to look atis kind of the point.
Should I teach him a lesson before this gets any more awkward?
Brightly, I smile.
He smiles back with a hint of relief.
I lift my hands, showing off my manicure. Bright orange acrylic nails. The type I wasn’t allowed to wear in ASL class.
“Are you aware that your cologne is causing my eyes to water?” I sign.
Confusion.
It hits him first.
Horror is next.
His smile slips all the way off. He blinks several times, staring at my hands like he’s never seen a manicure this good.
“What’s wrong?” I blink innocently as I sign, knowing he doesn’t understand ASL.
Mouth open, he steps back and speaks what I guess is an apology.
“Sorry. I didn’t know you were deaf.”
Or maybe he says something else.
But I doubt it.
I’ve done this song and dance so many times I can safely assume his response, even if I can’t hear it. His mouth moves in exaggerated circles. He’s speaking slower, but talking unnaturally makes it even harder to lipread. I wish people knew that.
I start to sign again, but my admirer shakes his head and waves his arms back and forth, gesturing ‘no’. Then he backpedals like he forgot he left the stove on at home.
He’s so eager to get away from me, he steps right into the path of a frazzled waiter.
The two collide.
Wine stems tumble. Glass shatters everywhere.
All eyes shift to us.
The stranger’s cheeks turn a screaming shade of red. He runs off, leaving the waiter to clean up the mess. I shoot a dark look at the runaway before dropping to my haunches and helping.
Henry appears at my side faster than lightning. His fingers grope my wrist, stopping me.
I look up.
He frowns.
