I gulp, wide eyes darting quickly away. It seems Aleks was spot-on with his BDE assumption.
“All right. Where do you want me?” he asks, and God, that is exactly what I don’t need to hear at this moment.
“On the bed,” I tell him, turning toward it so my back is to him. Those words don’t help either, so I reach down and adjust myself into a more discreet position before he appears in my peripheral. “Sit up against the headboard and, uh, spread your legs.” Fuck me, that really doesn’t help my situation. Nor does the way Hendrix obeys my command without question, spreading those thick thighs of his wide with all the flexibility of a professional athlete. I take a heavy breath to calm myself. He’s straight. “Okay, I’m going to sit with my back to your chest, and you can show me the signs with our hands in front of us. Sound good?”
“Sure.” He spreads his legs wider, getting comfortable, getting ready . . . for me.
Goddamnit, Tahegin.
“If you have a laptop, bring it to the bed,” he tells me.
Do not think sinful thoughts, Tahegin. But, oh, the things we could do with a laptop in that bed with us . . .
I grab my computer from the desk in the corner, using it to cover my crotch as I walk to the bed and climb on. With my back to Hendrix’s front, it’s a little easier to hide my problem, and I am very glad I didn’t choose for this to be the other way around. If Hendrix was the one leaning back on me . . . Shit, he would feel every single vein of my cock pressed against him.
Clearing his throat, Hendrix reaches around me, wraps his arms across my middle, and pulls me in flush against him. “There,” he grunts. “Comfy?”
“Mhm.” My voice is way too high.
“Okay, grab your laptop,” he instructs, his legs folding in gently beside mine. “Set it up to record so you have study material.”
Setting the laptop on the bed, I open the camera application and adjust the angle so both Hendrix and I are in the frame, then press Play on the video. “Now what?”
Hendrix takes my hand, and I ignore the way my pulse stutters. “Now, you learn the alphabet.”
One by one, letter by letter, he shows me the correct signs. He uses his hand to manipulate mine, though I’m pretty sure that isn’t standard practice in a classroom. Still, I’m thankful for the extra help because between my blood still rushing south and my inability to keep my gaze off Hendrix’s face on the camera screen, I’m pretty sure I am not retaining a single thing from this session—probably can’t even copy a sign by myself if he held it up in front of me.
I know—I know—he said he is straight. Maybe it’s been too long since I’ve been with anyone, and that’s why I’m reacting the way I am. Yes, Aleks put the idea in my head, and yes, Hendrix is totally my type, but it is never going to happen. I need to get over this before my heart decides to make it a thing. Besides, dating a teammate is not a good idea. Been there, done that.
So, to the best of my ability, I ignore my raging hard-on and try to relax. I don’t realize how rigid I’m sitting until my back curves into the natural bow of Hendrix’s chest, abs, and hips. The movement has him adjusting as well, settling further down against the headboard, taking me with him until I’m half lying down on him.
His chin rests on my shoulder, his mouth taking up residence beside my ear. Confident, pale fingers work their way around my much darker hand, folding my middle and ring fingers down while pushing my other two up and my thumb out. Then, his low, rumbling voice murmurs in my ear again. “I love you.”
I startle, pulse skyrocketing. “What?”
Hot breath rushes over the side of my face and neck as he huffs, though I can’t tell if it’s from annoyance or amusement. “This is the sign for I love you. You . . . you really haven’t learned this one?” His hand stills on mine, and instead of watching me through the camera screen as he has been, he turns his head to face me now. We are too close. “Why haven’t you . . . I mean, it’s been years, Tahegin.”
Expecting to hear harsh judgment in his tone, I’m surprised when I can’t find any. He sounds curious and a bit like he’s suspicious there is a deeper reason for my procrastination.
I turn my hand in Hendrix’s, absently running the tips of my fingers across his trimmed nails and tracing the lines on his palm—anything to distract myself from the words bubbling up in my chest. “Would you believe me if I said I was nervous about not being perfect at something?”
“No” is his immediate response to my bitter question. He’s still facing me, and the word bounces off my cheek when he says it.
Honestly, I’m shocked, and the emotion is clear when I ask, “Really? Why? Two weeks ago, you would have—”
“We weren’t friends two weeks ago. I thought I hated you.” Finally, he moves, his head falling back against the wall, but I have a feeling this conversation is far from over. He’s simply getting comfortable.
“And now you don’t?” I murmur, tracing the veins over the back of his hands with my finger. He has his arm draped over a bent knee, and the warmth of his leg against my side is soothing.
He hums contemplatively. “Jury’s still out.”
I chuckle, just for a second, then sober a moment before the truth spills out. “You know those personality tests they’d make us take in grade school? Some would tell you the best way to make friends or how to study and learn.”
“Always thought they were stupid.”
That brings an authentically crooked grin to my face. “Of course you did.”
“Let me guess, you’re a type B personality?” He sounds as if he might be smiling, too, and a glance at the computer screen confirms the tiniest quirk of his lips.
“Not always,” I whisper more to myself than him. “Anyway, one test we took—it seemed like the teachers gave it to us every year—told us how we learn and how best to teach us. I don’t know if my parents just forgot when they told me to learn sign language, but . . .” Pausing to swallow against the lump in my throat, I power through. “I’m an auditory learner. I have to hear it, repeat it, be told how to do it, discuss it, ask questions . . . And I— What if I can’t learn ASL? It’s literally the opposite of auditory learning. What if I try and try and try and fail and fail and fail?”
Hendrix sighs gently against the back of my neck. “Tahegin.” When I don’t respond, his hand begins to move, and I quickly interlace our fingers to not lose the comforting contact. Undeterred by my action, Hendrix brings his thumb and forefinger to my chin and turns my head nearly as far as it will go so we’re facing each other. Very close. “T.”
My eyes feel watery as I meet his stormy ones, but the look he’s giving me is far from what I expect to see. There is no pity in his gaze, nothing to indicate I’m being ridiculous. He actually appears to be sympathetic to the situation.
“I’m going to help you, okay?” he assures in a soft voice. His arms tighten around me, not restricting, just here. “And you’re going to help me, right?”
For some reason, I believe him when he says it. “Thank you, Rix.”
That earns me another lip twitch, but no more words are spoken on the matter. Instead, he goes back to showing me the alphabet signs—starting at the very beginning again—and this time, I realize he is being more verbal about it. He tells me which fingers are where and why they go there. Like, the sign for “I love you” is a combination of the letters I, L, and Y displayed all together at the same time.
And that is the most help anyone has ever given me when it comes to learning something new.
The brick in my chest that is always present when I think about my sister lightens just a little with every letter I memorize, and I begin to feel like I can do this. For Willow, and all thanks to Hendrix.
CHAPTER 11
HENDRIX AVERY
