He purses his lips, and it takes everything within me not to lean forward and kiss him. But no, I can’t do that. Not when he hasn’t scored enough points to earn it.
Thankfully, the server appears to take our orders. I haven’t really had a lot of time to look at the menu or the translation of it, so I settle on the first thing that appeals, and Rome gets something that I think might be a Tuscan dish. To be honest, none of it matters.
I’m just happy to be here with him.
To see him actually trying means something important. I’mtoo scared to put a name to what that is, but I feel it in my chest.
The server clears his throat, giving Rome the same anxious look I’ve seen on hearing people’s faces when I’m out with my Deaf friends, but he doesn’t act like an ass. “Anything else?”
I glance at Rome to interpret the question, and he lifts his hands. ‘Not now, but please, leave the bottle.’
Rome’s gaze dips to my lips as they move as I speak aloud what he requested.
As the server walks off, I twist the glass stem between my fingers, swirling the wine around once more. I’m still holding his gaze as I take another long drink, and he holds my eye contact.
Silence drags on, and I wait for him to give me something else.
It’s clear he expects me to keep the conversation going, so I lift my hand to make another negative mark, but he stops me with a hand laid on top of mine.
‘Stop it.’
‘No.’ I pause and then run my thumb across the side of his hand. ‘You need to work for what you want.’
He stares intently at me. ‘I don’t work hard to get laid. I can go out and get any guy at a club anytime I want.’
I don’t doubt that’s true. He’s fucking gorgeous, but it still hurts to see those signs on his hands. I pull away from his grasp and move to the notebook, slashing a gigantic -1on the paper. I really want him to see that he’s near zero again.
I need him to show me he can actually give a shit about something other than my skills with my dick and tongue. That’s all I fucking want.
He huffs, then says, ‘Want to talk more about Paris?’
I swallow heavily. ‘I want to talk more about the night you left.’
Rome bites his lip, and his gaze darts off to the side for a second. He sighs again. I enjoy the little unthinking noises he makes, but I don’t draw attention to it. Denver explained once that some people have a weird fetish for the Deaf accent, and I know that Rome has had a bad experience with a hearing ex.
So did he do that? Did he make him feel like a thing? An object? Does he think I’ll be the same?
Rome meets my eyes again. ‘I have a rule.’
I nod.
‘No hearing men.’
My stomach twists. He doesn’t need to reiterate that. I’ve known it from the beginning, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to drive that point home to hurt me.
Part of me wants to mark him down for that out of spite, but that’s not fair. He’s allowed to have preferences. Before I can say anything, the server returns and drops the appetizer on the table and then leaves before either of us can ask for anything else.
If I could grade the server, I’d give him a big, glaringF.
Instead, I focus on the food. I drag a few pieces of zucchini onto my small plate, and Rome does the same. Silence is heavy between us as he takes a bite, and then he swipes his fingers on his pants.
‘Hearing people don’t understand,’ he tells me, his words slightly abrupt. ‘Not me, not what it’s like to be Deaf. Always prioritize hearing, speech, sound. Act like I can’t do anything for myself.’
‘Idid that?’ I ask him.
He blinks for a second, and then his jaw goes tight, and he shakes his head no. ‘But you didn’t know my language.’
‘I do now. I worked hard.’
