Page 46 of The Right Sign

As I study Yaya, I get the feeling that I’m missing something. Since I’ve met her, she’s shown no indication that her deafness causes her frustration. If anything, she seems to thrive on the difference. On her uniqueness.

So then…

Is this all because she truly believes a deaf person and a hearing person can’t be in love? Beyond the ruse. In real life. Is the concept so unbelievable, so distasteful to her that it’s causing a nervous breakdown?

Lips going firm, I step forward.

She skitters back like I’m danger personified.

Back.

Back.

Until she slams against the wall and lets loose a breath of shock.

I press one hand to the left of her and the other slightly above her head. Leaning down until I’m close enough to feel the swell of her chest against my ribs and the warmth of her thigh against my leg, I close my eyes. Breathe her in.

Her chest keeps beating into mine.

One pump.

Two.

The tension in the air snaps tight, a fishing line about to snap.

I trap her, but I don’t touch her. I promised her I wouldn’t, even if my self-restraint is flying out the window. Even if her lips are close enough to steal a kiss. Even if hormones that I haven’t felt since my teenage years are buzzing like a glitching computer program.

Now, the suddenly insatiable beast ticking under my skin gloats,push up her skirt, touch her, feel her, make her beg.

I open my eyes before that voice can get any louder.

Yaya is peering at me, observing.

And I realize, just as I’ve been watching her closely, she’s been watching me.

I stare at her, silently communicating my thoughts.Lucy will believe.

Inching back, I reach for the phone in my pocket so I can type the sentiment. Yaya suddenly grabs my hand. The feel of her delicate fingers in mine makes my chest rearrange.

The air… glitters.

Holy crap.

Did Yaya slip drugs in my water when I wasn’t looking?

She guides my hand to her face and smiles, knocking my heart out of my body and sending a flush of heat straight up my neck. The very neck that she wraps her hands around. With a surprising amount of urgency, she pulls me down until our foreheads touch.

I’m wide-eyed. Spellbound.

But she’s primly calculating when she darts her eyes to the very corners, indicating something to the left of us.

One twist of my head and I notice the reason. My sister is hunkering in the mouth of the hallway.

Yaya grabs my chin between her long, painted fingernails and urges my face to herslook at ME.

And I obey.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Lucy’s voice chimes.