“Got a card? Or a website?”
“Yeah, here.” He digs a cute business card out of his pocket, and I transfer it to mine.
“I gotchu, man,” I promise with a fist bump, then gesture at the doll Willow just unwrapped. “That’s cute. She’ll love it.”
He thanks me, and I continue my rounds, checking in with Kit, Blow, Gal, and Tank. I already know what is up with Aleks, and it has everything to do with the cute graphic designer making eyes at him from across the room. Finally, I reach Hendrix.
Off to the side, Hendrix seems to have distanced himself from everyone, but when I round Aleks’ body, I see another figure in the corner. There is more than an arm’s length between them, which is par for Hendrix and Emo Kid—I mean, Celeste. They’re signing to each other, hands flying faster than I am able to understand yet. I think it’s something about school, maybe?
I don’t greet him immediately, not wanting to interrupt their conversation, and Hendrix doesn’t notice me until they turn to watch Willow open the present he brought.
He gives me a minuscule quirk of his mouth.
“Hey.” I smile in return, then gesture toward Willow. “You didn’t have to bring anything, you know. You only met her today.”
Digging his hands into the pocket of his jeans, he shrugs.
Across the room, Willow unwraps a book, the cover simple and nondescript but bright pink in color. She looks for Hendrix, cocking her head when she spots him, and I catch his moving hands too late. When he’s finished, Willow smiles and thanks him before continuing to open the rest of her presents.
“What is it?” I ask him as everyone remains enthralled by my sister.
“A book.”
My eyebrow hitches upward. “Hmph.”
That has Hendrix looking at me, amusement twinkling in his grey eyes. “It’s a book,” he repeats.
“About?”
“A princess and a knight.”
“Sounds very original.”
“Considering I wrote it, I’d say it is.”
I’m not proud of the way my jaw drops in utter disbelief. “You . . . wrote it?”
Hendrix shrugs again, seemingly trying to downplay how cool it is that he wrote a freaking book. “It was a final project for one of my college classes. We had to write a short fiction novel from the point of view of a main character who is deaf or hard of hearing—using the correct language and adding descriptors void of auditory adjectives. The professor had them printed, bound, and returned to us as a surprise.”
“Is that your only copy?”
A stiff nod is his reply.
“You can’t give her that,” I exclaim. “It’s yours.”
“She will enjoy it more than the cardboard box it’s been packed in has.”
“It’s too much, Rix.”
He doesn’t respond as Willow sets down her last unwrapped present and demands to go to the pool. Everyone files out the patio door, my teammates entirely too excited. They love playing volleyball over the net in the shallow section, especially when Willow is involved. That girl is way too competitive for her own good. After the game, they’ll most likely play chicken, and Willow has been the reigning champion for as long as my friends have been coming over.
“Why a princess and a knight?” I ask as we sit on one of the patio couches. My parents are still inside, probably cleaning up all the wrapping paper left behind, and everyone else is in the pool, the volleyball game well underway. “It’s a little cliché. And sexist. Don’t you think?”
“It could be,” he agrees. “But not in my book. The princess saves the knight in the end, and they’re only friends. It’s very unconventional and female-empowering. Don’t give Willow any spoilers, though, okay?”
This man . . . Why does he have to be so amazing and unexpected?
“How do you keep managing to surprise me?”
No one is paying any attention to us, which is probably a good thing. This couch is more like a love seat, and we’re both turned toward each other, our inside legs bent and resting knee to knee between us. We’re close, and I swear we are leaning in closer. My eyes are locked on his grey ones, which seem even more colorless in the sunshine. I watch his gaze dart everywhere—the pool, my eyes, the patio door . . . my mouth.
He licks his lips, a quick swipe of the tip of his tongue that leaves them glassy and shining. “Tahegin,” he murmurs, and it is all gravel.
“Yeah?” My voice is no better.
“Do you remember Halloween? When we were sitting in the back of your truck?”
How could I possibly forget? I have spent every waking moment thinking about it—about the way I had held him, pulled him close, whispered the word “perfect” against his lips. It hasn’t been brought up since, not by him or me. I wasn’t sure if we were ignoring it or pretending it didn’t happen or what, but I had followed Hendrix’s lead on it.
And now . . . Now, he is drifting closer, his eyes roaming all over my face, his tongue darting out again. I’m being pulled in, like he has lassoed me or put me under some kind of gravity spell—but I am not complaining. I have been thinking about this—pining over him—since that first day of tryouts when he was a total jerk, but a jerk I wanted to get to know. God, to taste him completely, not just the minuscule brush of my bottom lip against his . . . I want it. Badly. I want—
Suddenly, there is distance between us. The sun shines, the pool water splashes, my parents step through the patio door, and dead air fills the space between Hendrix and me as he sits all the way back.
He clears his throat. “I, uh. I talked about my birth parents, and you listened. I wanted to extend that courtesy to you. If you ever want to talk about yours, I’m here.”
“Oh.” I also lean back. Had I imagined everything that just happened? I mean, what was I thinking—that he’d wanted to kiss me? Hendrix Avery, confirmed straight man. Shit, something must be wrong with me if I am making up signs which aren’t there. Obviously, Hendrix doesn’t want to kiss me, and I’m making this weird. “I— Yeah. Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
CHAPTER 17