“It’s fine,” he says after a long moment. “You can take your time.”
I stare at him, waiting for something to shift, for him to change his mind. For him to grow impatient, like most people do when they realize how slow I am. How broken.
But he just sits there, watching me.
“I’m not in a rush,” he says again. His voice lowers, softer now. “If it takes weeks or months, it doesn’t matter. Just… show me.”
Something flutters in my chest. It shouldn’t mean anything. I shouldn’t let it mean anything, but it feels like it does.
I nod, and this time I sign to him slowly and carefully.
“Thank you.”
His gaze follows my hands, then back at me, and he gives me a small smile that’s barely there, but I see it.
“You’re welcome,”he signs back. I couldn’t help but smile; that had been among the first basic words I had taught him earlier. He is such a fast learner.
THIRTEEN
LUCAS
Teaching Alexander ASL for the past few days feels like walking a tightrope. One I never asked to be in, but here I am teetering between control and something else I don’t want to name.
It’s not the lessons themselves; the movements are simple enough, the signs flowing from my hands with ease. What’s difficult is the way Alex watches me, the weight of his gaze like a hand pressed to my skin. Heavy and intent. It’s hard to meet his eyes when I teach, yet it’s impossible not to.
On Tuesday, we sat almost close to each other. It’s been so long since I let myself sit close to anyone except Tyler. Sometimes his fingers brush mine when I show him the shape of a sign, and it’s nothing, but it’s also everything. I tell myself it’s just part of the lesson. That’s all. But the insane pounding of my heart doesn’t listen.
On Wednesday, I find myself standing at the mirror for too long. Trying on different shirts, I almost choked on a laugh when I realized what I was doing. Who the fuck was I kidding? I later tell myself it’s just to look presentable. And it’s not for him. But when Alex’s gaze lingered longer than it should, when his eyes flickered down my face, my hands, my throat… I don’t know what to think.
I spent the whole of Thursday morning researching why my heart pounds when I think of someone or whenever I am near the person, and other stupid-related symptoms I’ve been having since I met Alexander. Google tells me I have a crush or a strong attraction and emotion towards him. I shut my laptop so quickly and got ready for my evening class since I wasn’t teaching him ASL that day. I didn’t know if I was happy or disappointed.
Earlier today, my hand lingered a second too long on his. His skin warm beneath my fingertips, solid and sure. The air between us shifted. I could feel it, humming low and dangerous. I looked up, and Alexander was already looking at me, his gaze steady and quiet. I didn’t know what it meant, but it made my chest feel too tight, too full.
I had pulled back first.
And now with the car ride back to my apartment… I feel like I’m waiting for something to snap. I don’t know what. I don’t know if I want it to. The weight settles deep in my chest, spreading until it’s more than just nerves. I stare out the window as the city blurs past, the faint hum of the engine filling the silence. My hands rest on my lap, fingers twisting together, thinking of the way Alex’s gaze lingered too long today. Of how close our hands came again. Of how something tight and warm coils inside me every time his eyes lock on mine.
When the car slows to a stop outside my apartment building, I hesitate for a moment. The driver says nothing, just waits, as he normally does. I finally nod my thanks before stepping out. The air is cooler now, biting against my skin.
I head upstairs. Inside, Tyler is sprawled out on the couch, eyes locked on the boxing match playing on the TV. The room smells faintly of whatever instant noodles he probably cooked earlier, though the window’s open, letting in the cold night air.
“Welcome home, handsome,” he says, not looking away from the screen.
I smile and give him a slight slap on his shoulders, he finally glances over, sitting up a little.
“You hungry?” he asks, returning the smile
I shake my head, dropping my bag on the couch. He smirks and asks teasingly
“Let me guess. You already ate at his place?”
Heat creeps up my neck, and I glare at him but nod.
“Yeah, figured. Bet he’s never letting you leave without feeding you, huh?” Tyler says with a grin.
He’s not wrong. After every lesson, Alexander either orders food or cooks by himself, and he makes me sit on the counter stool and watch him. He’s silent about it and does not explain, but the gesture is loud enough. Like everything he does, it leaves me unsure of how to feel.
I move toward the kitchen, half-thinking about grabbing water, when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, glancing at the screen.
